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It was a beautiful day, or so the average person would say. The sun was shining, no longer covered with a blanket of clouds, and the grass was greener than ever after the previous month full of rain.
But to Aziraphale, it wasn't. He was supposed to go out with Crowley this afternoon and canceling plans just wouldn't do!
He grumbled to himself, pacing anxiously around the bookshop and mentally rehearsing everything that they had planned. Crowley was supposed to pick him up at 3 pm, then they'll go to get some fresh pastries from the bakery they opened earlier this year. At around 4 pm, they'll go feed the ducks (not with the pastries, mind you) and then just take a short walk around the city. They should be back at the bookshop by 5:30. Nothing too overwhelming, right? Except it was now 3:06 now and Crowley still wasn't here.
Aziraphale knew that the demon would show up fashionably late as he always does, but that still didn't stop him from worrying and rethinking their plans. Would they have to move something? Or would they cancel altogether? Maybe Crowley wasn't coming today. 'Did I mix up the date?' he thought to himself, checking the calendar for the third time. But no, he was quite sure everything was correct. Then why. Wasn't he. Here.
The angel straightened his coat and fixed his bowtie before his hand retreated to the hem of his waistcoat, rubbing his fingers along the familiar fabric. His other flapped slightly, occasionally stopping to fix his hair. Today was already a stressful day for him, not for any particular reason. Everything just seemed to set him off or startle him, whether it's accidentally brushing his arm against a bookshelf or closing a drawer too loudly. He didn't like being like this, but he didn't know how to deal with it and so he just pretended everything was fine.
The door swung open in a familiar fashion, and he jumped, as he already had countless of times that day. His hands both darted down before wringing together and he turned to look at his friend. "Hey, angel! Sorry for the delay, London traffic, ya know how it is," his companion greeted while striding up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Aziraphale physically stopped himself from flinching and, instead, smiled back. "Hello to you, too. Shall we go?" Aziraphale requested, more as a plea so they wouldn't be even more late. Receiving a nod in return, he grabbed his keys, and they exited the bookshop, locking the door behind him.
Crowley gave him the usual content grin, walking to the Bentley. "Alright, in you go, angel."
After that, things seemed to calm down for a bit. The ride to the bakery, while dangerously fast as always, was one Aziraphale was already used to and one he knew well. When the usual bickering and conversing about anything and everything replaced the angel's complaints about "going a 100 mph in central London", the atmosphere in the car felt lighter and Aziraphale finally allowed himself to relax. He watched the trees pass by one by one through the car window, listening to Crowley talk about his usual "demonic deeds" and how they always seemed to bite him in the arse later. For the first time that day, Aziraphale smiled a genuine and content smile. Nothing could beat this...
And then, a truck horn blared, the horrible sound piercing through his skull, and he shut his eyes as tight as he could. Quite involuntarily, his plump palms covered his ears to block the sound out, yet he still felt the ringing in his head long after it went quiet. Then there was a hand on his arm, and he recoiled in blind panic without thinking. He realized what he'd done, but he had no courage to move nor to open his eyes. The car slowed down, he registered vaguely, before stopping on the side of the road. The car engine went silent, and everything was okay.
"Angel? Aziraphale," he heard Crowley call him, "hey, you okay?" He cracked an eye open, only to be met with the dark lenses of his companion, his friend and only family. He opened his other one, slowly releasing his ears after realizing how uncomfortably warm and sweaty they were. He breathed out slowly, looking down in embarrassment. How could he let himself react like that? Oh, Crowley must think him a coward. An angel of the Lord, who was made to fight and protect, was scared of a horn.
He expected a laugh or an amused smirk, but instead, was met with sympathy. "Aziraphale, it's okay, 's alright now," Crowley whispered, as if careful not to alarm him again, "it was just a truck, we're safe." Aziraphale felt his face heat up, blinking away a tear that threatened to fall. He didn't say anything, so Crowley continued. "You wanna step out for a bit? Get some air?" And there was that damn voice again, colored with fondness and care. The softness of it felt like a heavy blanket, embracing him when the world felt hard and cold. He welcomed it.
Nodding slowly, they got out of the car and for the next ten minutes, they simply stood next to each other in a comfortable silence. Aziraphale knew Crowley was side-eyeing him the entire time, but he couldn't quite understand why. It was just a little mistake he'd made, just a moment of letting his guard down and letting his mask fall off.
'It won't happen again,' he promised to himself when they got back into the car to continue their drive in a not-so-comfortable silence.
The two supernatural entities now sat on a bench in St. James's Park, as they always had. Ducks surrounded them, occasionally quacking as a plea to get them to throw more grapes and as a thank you when their wish was granted. Crowley and Aziraphale settled back into casual talking and the world felt okay again. Though, there was still something that the angel couldn't quite get past. And it was that damn sun, shining seemingly brighter than usual in contrast to the precipitations they'd been met with the previous month.
While Aziraphale enjoyed a little glow from the star, today his eyes only watered in protest and his attempts to hide it only brought up more suspicion to Crowley, signaling that something wasn't right. He'd always known that his friend was more sensitive to, well, everything, even if he wouldn't admit it. Loud and sudden noises startled him, populated places overwhelmed him, so the fact that light was a problem too wasn't exactly a surprise. No wonder he always kept his bookshop so dim.
"Everything okay?" he finally asked, hoping to get an honest answer, but was once again only met with denial. "Of course. Tickety-boo, even," he added, "absolutely tip-top." Normally Crowley wouldn't push, but he didn't like seeing his partner so...not tip-top. If Aziraphale wasn't going to bring it up, he would. "The sun's too bright for you?" Aziraphale froze for a second before shaking his head. "Nonsense. The sun may shine however it wants," he muttered.
"It's a bright bugger. Come on, I can see your eyes watering. It's okay if you have a problem with it," he paused, trying to sound as genuine as he felt, "we can move somewhere else." The other shook his head again. "I'm doing just fine here, thank you."
Crowley groaned. While he adored the angel's stubbornness, he absolutely hated it when it came to times like this. But he wouldn't let him gaslight himself any further. "No. Let's move. Shade's more comfortable, anyway," he insisted, getting up. Aziraphale looked up at him but lowered his eyes immediately after getting a metaphorical slap to the face with sunlight. He rubbed at his eyes, yet still stood his ground. "It's okay, Crowley, you don't need to worry about me," he grunted.
"Ngk, 'course I'm fucking worried, because you won't ever admit that you're uncomfortable," he hissed back, his attempted annoyance being completely overshadowed by worry. "Because I'm not!" "You are." Aziraphale huffed, now getting up as well, looking anywhere but at Crowley. "It doesn't matter, anyway," he mumbled. They stood in silence for the second time that day. The gears in Crowley's head turned, powered by the imagination that other demons visibly lacked, and then it was decided.
He slipped off his sunglasses in what he hoped was a nonchalant and swift movement and offered them to Aziraphale. He looked at them, expression softening. "Oh, Crowley, I can't possibly..." "Take 'em. You need them more than I do," he uttered, more sure of himself than before. Aziraphale hesitated before reaching for them and putting them on, careful as if to not damage them. There was an odd tension in the air that Crowley didn't acknowledge before. After a brief silence, Aziraphale smiled at him. "Thank you, it is a bit better."
Heat rushed to the demon's face, realizing that this was the first time Aziraphale wore something of his, but he brushed it off to deal with later. Instead, he grinned back. "Told ya." He noticed his friend finally relax a little and he let himself feel proud of the accomplishment of making him happy.
"So, still wanna go on that walk?" he offered, tucking his hands back in his pockets. But the smile on Aziraphale's face stiffened a little bit. "I, uh," he paused. He didn't need to say anything, however. Crowley understood. "We can go home, if you'd like." The other seemed taken aback, but then he smiled again and nodded. "I... I think I'd like that, yes."
Inside the bookshop was always welcoming, despite how dusty and dark it was. While people may say that it was too cramped, to Aziraphale that was the comforting opposite that he never found in heaven. No bright lights bouncing off the blinding white hallways that covered the entirety of the excruciating empty "paradise" that humanity idealized. Just thinking about it made him feel sick. But here, in his beloved bookshop, he could always be shielded by the wooden shelves stacked with books. Nothing could harm him in here. Nothing could get to him.
He'd taken off the sunglasses when they came in, handing them back to Crowley who declined and let him keep them for "when he needed them again". Now, they were both seated down in their usual places, drinking the day away as always. This was Aziraphale's favorite part of their routine. It was so easy and natural, there was no pressure, no expectations to hold yourself up to. Just drink, talk, and be comfortable. Right. He could do that.
Crowley always got drunk faster than Aziraphale so by the time that the angel started processing the events of what happened that day, his occult counterpart was already red in the face and blabbering about incoherent nonsense. He eyed the glasses sitting on his desk and pondered whether what he was doing was okay. Everyone had always taught him that being himself is about the worst thing he could do. Who would want an angel that flaps his hands around, talks about a book for hours, constantly worries over every inconvenience or change and almost cries because of a loud noise?
He sighed to himself. 'Why does Crowley even like me?' he thought, looking at his friend who hasn't even noticed he'd gone quiet. After today, he was still here. Why? Didn't he see how ridiculous Aziraphale was being? He looked down at his hands, suddenly noticing he'd been rubbing his waistcoat again. He stopped instantly and smiled at Crowley. Everything was okay.
But it wasn't. His mind replayed the blaring car horn, and he felt a shiver run through him. He closed his eyes for a moment to block out the sunlight that wasn't there anymore. No, none of this was okay. He wiggled in his seat nervously and cracked his knuckles a couple of times. He didn't like doing that in front of others, especially Crowley, he thought himself as annoying. And still, Crowley didn't seem to mind it. He just kept talking about something that, while reaching Aziraphale's ears, didn't meet his consciousness. There was only one sentence going through his mind.
He doesn't mind, does he?
He couldn't mind, right? Otherwise, he wouldn't be here right now. If it really bothered him, why would he stay? His body rocked back and forth slowly, as if to soothe the thoughts running through his head. Yet, the thoughts kept screaming. Loudly. Almost as loud as that truck. So loud that he couldn't even hear Crowley calling him- "Angel? Hey, you alright?" Was he alright? Probably not. If he was then he wouldn't be...oh, lord...
He only now realized he'd started crying. He wiped at his eyes desperately to stop the stubborn tears but to no avail. Crowley seemed to sober himself up immediately and he went over to Aziraphale. "Hey, 'Ziraphale, what's wrong?" he asked with that same voice he used before. His no longer shielded eyes were wide open as they watched him with worry. Aziraphale choked back an involuntary sob, looking down. Nothing was wrong, he was just bothering Crowley with nothing again.
"It's okay now, angel, it's okay. Can I touch you?" he asked. It was such a simple question that still took him by surprise. He wasn't used to having others respect his personal space, even though he should be. In heaven, no one cared if they did something that made you uncomfortable. You were just meant to deal with it, ignore it, push it down. They laughed at your reactions, laughter that masked the hatred they felt for you. You were never safe. But he was now, here with Crowley. So, why was he still surprised to feel safe?
He only nodded in response, and he felt Crowley's cold hand meet with his cheek. He desperately leaned into it, so overcome by the gentleness of it he cried harder. Oh, dear. "Hey, hey..." Crowley comforted, placing his other hand on Aziraphale's back and pulling him closer. In return, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, returning the embrace and burying his face into the crook of Crowley's neck. Nothing was okay. Comfort wasn't okay, he didn't deserve comfort.
And yet, here he was. Being comforted. Some angel he was.
They stayed like that for minutes. Hours. The light outside had gone to bed quite a while ago, only the streetlights and car headlights luminated the city. The dark was comforting, in a way. At least it didn't hurt his eyes, whether it was the night or the color of Crowley's jacket which he had been cried into for an upsetting amount of time. But now, there was only dark and comfortable silence.
"Angel?" "Hm?" "You, uh, you feeling better now?" Aziraphale separated himself from Crowley, nodding. "Yes, I do," he paused to recollect himself, "I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sure I wasn't exactly good company today." Crowley frowned. "You're always good company, angel." But the angel only shook his head. "It must be annoying to constantly have to deal with me. I mean, what kind of angel would get scared by a horn? Or be unable to focus due to the sun being too bright? Or who starts crying out of nowhere?" Crowley stared at him in disbelief. "Exactly. A bad angel, is what kind."
Thirteen seconds passed, Aziraphale counted each one, before Crowley reached out and placed a hand next to Aziraphale's, almost touching. An offer. Aziraphale inched it closer, and Crowley carefully took his hand in his. He squeezed it. "Not a bad angel. Just a different one," he smiled at his friend, "and being like every other angel is boring, don't you think?" Aziraphale smiled back. "I suppose." "And not to mention the other angels are fucking wankers who have no concept of respecting others."
They stared at each other before bursting out into laughter, letting their foreheads meet as they leaned against one another. Aziraphale could feel the anxiety melt off him. Everything was okay. It was all okay now.
When they both calmed down completely, they went back to drinking the day away, this time both chattering and joking around. If a passerby were to walk in, they'd say they were cuddling, though Crowley would surely use a more "demonic" way of describing it. This, of course, wasn't the last time Aziraphale had a day like this, but that didn't bother Crowley. And if the sun happens to bother his angel again, he'll always have the sunglasses he gave him. And if those still aren't enough...
...then Crowley will just have to destroy the sun, I guess.