Archive of Our Own

The first time Crowley had the idea, it seemed like a really good one.

He'd wanted to do something special for Aziraphale on the anniversary of the Day (the one that deserved a capital D and a special place in his memory as in his heart, because it was the Day they had been truly freed - freed from their respective sides, freed to choose their own), and what could be better than creating something out of the angel's oh-so-beloved written word?

Writing down all the things he couldn't say sounded really tempting at first thought, but the demon had soon discovered that it was not as easy as it sounded. He just didn't find the words. What a stupid notion. There were thousands of them in the English language, but none seemed to be quite fitting for what he wanted to express (at least he wasn't able to bring them in the right order). It really was enough to drive you up the wall!

Why had he committed himself to poems, out of all things? He should have known that this endeavour would be doomed to failure. He was not the one with the language kink after all. His angel had the ability to build palaces out of paragraphs, cathedrals held together by sentences that left the reader totally enthralled and utterly defenceless.

Crowley knew he wouldn't be able to live up to that no matter how hard he tried, and sure, Aziraphale would probably love anything he wrote, because that was just who he was, but the demon still didn't want it to be just anything - he wanted it to feel right. So he wrote and wrote and crumbled the paper and wrote and swore and wrote and cursed and wrote and wanted to burn all the bloody paper balls with crossed-out sentences he had produced so far.

This had been a horrible idea. How was he supposed to put something in words that he still didn't fully understand himself? (A little smirk shortly curled the corner of his mouth when he heard the angel's voice saying "ineffable". Because it was. It was.) The things he felt were far too great to describe or explain them. He could never capture everything...

But perhaps...perhaps he didn't need to. Because his angel knew.

He should just...write something Aziraphale already knew (to say it like this sounded stupid, but at that moment, Crowley was sure that was the way to go). It was not about writing something new, it was about communicating what had never been said. And Aziraphale would understand. The demon was certain of it. Aziraphale would be able to see beyond the words and into the endless space of love that had created them. Love. And gratitude.

Taking a deep breath, Crowley ripped the piece of paper off the pad he had been writing on, crumbled it and threw it into the already overflowing basket (not that rhymes about snakes and cakes wouldn't fit them, but it was probably better to start all over again one last time...)

~oOo~

"What is that?", Aziraphale asked when the annual Day came and Crowley, struggling to pull himself together long enough to make any kind of effort beforehand, quite unceremoniously held out a plain white envelope to him over the array of picnic foods assembled on the blanket between them.

"For you."

Aziraphale laughed, a melodic sound that had the little hairs in the nape of Crowley's neck standing up.

"Obviously", the angel smiled, taking the envelope from Crowley, "but what is it?"

"It's just a little..." He made a vague waving motion with his hand. "...thingy", he said eloquently as ever. "From me. For you. Cause, y'know. Today's kinda-"

Aziraphale beamed brightly at him.

"Oh, you absolute sweetheart, you remembered!"

Crowley just shrugged evasively, feeling his cheeks heating up under the angel's attention.

"Shuddup."

"Oh, dear", Aziraphale's smile fell a little, "but I don't have anything for you-"

"Don't mention it", Crowley waved him off. "Seriously. Don't mention this again. Ever."

"Are we officially gonna call today our anniversary, then?" Aziraphale looked so excited, ecstatic even, but all Crowley could think about was the weight of the words trapped inside that envelope in the angel's hands, his nerves rising with every second. If demons were prone to sweating he was sure he would be resembling Niagara Falls by now.

"Will you just bloody open it?"

~oOo~

"Will you just bloody open it?"

Aziraphale shook his head fondly at the impatiently squirming demon, but he couldn't deny that he was quite eager himself to find out what that envelope contained.

He opened it cautiously, throwing a curious sideglance at the demon sitting next to him on the blanket, nervously chewing on his lower lip. The angel tore his gaze away from the enticing picture to let it wander over the two pieces of paper his hands had produced. The first one seemed to be a letter and he immediately sunk into the words, dying to know what they would bring...

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to look at Crowley. He could hear him shifting beside him, probably watching every twitch of emotion on his face, and the angel knew meeting the look of nervous anticipation in those golden eyes would be too much for him.

The letters had already begun to blur in front of his eyes as they watered with held-back tears, and the restraint would surely melt away at the demon's sight immediately.

Don't make a fuss over it, Crowley's voice echoed in his ears as if he had actually heard him speak the words instead of just reading them. Fine. He would control himself. He blinked the dampness away and turned the pages to reveal the text written on the second one, unable to stop his fingers from trembling slightly as he did so.

Aziraphale didn't know when it had started, when the last traces of his self-control had begun to crumble away into dust, blown into oblivion by the sound of the words he heard reverberating in his mind as he read. Maybe it had been right at the beginning, maybe somewhere in the middle, he really couldn't say, all that he knew was that the tears had finally started to fall freely, rolling down his cheeks as silent cascades to openly display his overflowing heart. He blinked a few times, forcing them back until his vision stopped being a blurred mess when he finally found the strength to face his demon.

"Crowley, I-" He broke off, voice choked and without a clue how he wanted to finish the sentence, how to find any words that would have done those justice that had been directed at him.

"Yeah, I mean..." Crowley shrugged his shoulders, rubbing his neck a bit awkwardly, "it's not much, but-"

"Oh, dearest..." The angel had to close his eyes for a moment in order to stop the tears from returning. "I can't-" He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat without succeeding. "I don't know what to say. Seems I'm the one at a loss for words now."

"So..." Crowley bit his bottom lip, mouth crooked in an insecure smile. If demons were able to look shy, this would probably have been the closest they got. "You liked it...?"

"Oh, you daft demon, of course I did!" Aziraphale couldn't help but shake his head fondly. "It's-", he began, broke off, tried again, "you're- I can't even begin to describe- Oh, for Hell's sake..." He gestured vaguely around, no more soundly than the sentences he didn't seem to be able to end. "See what you did to me?", he asked instead, smiling broadly. "I love you so very much."

And then he kissed him. When words failed, there were always other ways, other languages.

"Love you", he heard the demon mumble against his lips between kisses as he was pushed on his back in sudden surprise, the angel falling half on his chest. They couldn't help but giggle quite un-supernatural-beingly when their noses bumped together, and Aziraphale placed another peck on his mouth, trying to memorize the shape of it as long as it was still curled in this display of open and honest happiness.

"Sorry for making a fuss", the angel said, unable to suppress a smirk at the demon's panting breaths. "I know you said I shouldn't."

"Oh, you know. Don't mind that much after all", he dismissed it, the lovely pink shade on his flushed cheeks betraying the nonchalance in his voice. Aziraphale smiled, resisting the urge to turn that colour into an even darker red and sitting up instead, pulling Crowley along with him.

"You are aware that it was me who needed saving though, aren't you?"

Crowley seemed startled by the sudden unexpected turn to the angel's question, watching as Aziraphale's eyes flew over the words in his letter again, then back to Crowley's face.

"I-I'm touched that you seem to think-" The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, gratefully. "I hope you know that you never needed rescuing, my love", he said then, voice warm and serious. "You were always so very good at doing that. You never needed me."

Crowley shook his head.

"But I did, I- " He trailed off, swallowed as he returned Aziraphale's soft yet intense gaze.
"Maybe you're right." He watched his hands in his lap, looking almost embarrassed, really, the long elegant fingers scratching at the edges of his black nails. "But I wouldn't have done it without you", he added, not looking up. "Not to this extent, anyway. Surely, you must know that it was for you, angel." There. Golden eyes met blue ones once again. Pupils wide and vulnerable. "All of it", Crowley mumbled. "Everything."

"You're kind, my dear." The angel sighed softly. "But you're not who you are because of me, Crowley", he contradicted him, a smile in his voice. "You decided who you wanted to be, long before we even met. You saved yourself." He took one of those busily fidgeting hands in his, squeezing reassuringly, "And for that, you truly are the strongest person" (well, supernatural being) "I know."

"I- " The demon's mouth hung slightly open, eyes fixed on the other's face, motionless. Then he blinked slowly, swallowed.

"You think so? I never..." He trailed off, brow furrowing, as if he needed to contemplate the angel's words.

"Mhm." The hum sounded...accepting, but there was something else in those golden eyes, something deeper the angel couldn't quite put his finger on...

"But...Aziraphale? You- You're stronger than you think", Crowley said, taking the angel completely by surprise.

"Oh." He blinked rapidly, trying to cover up in what a flustered state this simple innocently spoken statement had left him. "Oh, t-thank you, dear."

~oOo~

"Oh." Aziraphle sounded anything but convincing. "T-thank you, dear."

"No, honestly, I mean it." Crowley watched how Aziraphale's eyes flit down to their still joined hands when he felt the demon squeezing lightly, but when he looked back up, he discovered in slight shock that tears were dwelling in the angel's eyes once more, his features troubled, legs writhing in unease on the tartan blanket.

"Ah, yes..." Aziraphale pinched his eyes shut, face contorting uncomfortably. "Ehm. I- I'm..." He withdrew his hand from Crowley's grasp, palming it protectively with his other and the demon's unnecessary heart constricted painfully in his chest at the sight.

"I'm really not at all", Aziraphale said then, unable to look at him. "I know I'm not. It's very sweet of you to say, but- quite on the contrary, I fear that I- I've been-" He let a shaky breath leave his lungs through his mouth before pinching his lips together to a thin line.

Crowley didn't know what to do. This had all taken place so quickly. They had only just been kissing, laughing and smiling, and the next second...

And it only got worse. Aziraphale looked back up at him, eyes glistening, pain written all over his beautiful face.

"I've been such a coward", the angel choked out, obviously struggling not to let his voice dissolve into sobs. "And I'm so very sorry. I should have seen through them sooner. I should have listened to you, I should have done something, I should have..." He trailed off, his voice breaking.

Crowley wanted to reach out to him, take his hand again, feel the warmth of his skin, but he had drawn his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them to steady his trembling body. The picture stung like a knife in his chest, so the demon followed the urge to let his fingertips ghost carefully over Aziraphale's back, waiting to see how the angel would react to the touch. He flinched slightly but didn't withdraw, and Crowley took it as permission to gently press his palm against the fabric of his cream-coloured coat, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"Hey...angel." He wasn't sure what had brought this up, but it didn't matter. He hadn't known Aziraphale was still struggling with their past, but it shouldn't have been so much of a surprise. They both had their burdens to carry.

"Wanting to believe in something good is not a weakness", Crowley whispered softly, relieved that the sobs were subsiding. Aziraphale sniffed.

"It is when it makes you blind to the truth."

"You saw it in the end."

"Almost too late."

Crowley didn't like the bitter sound of his voice at all. It reverberated far too closely around the edge of self-loathing for his taste. He certainly knew enough about that himself, after all.

"It wasn't, though." A weak consolation. But the only one his overtaxed mind could come up with.

Aziraphale stared a hole in the air in front of him, absentmindedly fidgeting with a beaded handkerchief he had pulled out of his waistcoat pocket. He closed his eyes, sniffed again, breathed out slowly. The huge blue orbs shimmered when they were directed back at Crowley, wet trails staining the angel's flushed cheeks.

"Can you ever forgive me?", he asked then, voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his sore throat, but it did nothing for the stifled sound of his words when he continued. "Oh, my dearest, I- I know I've been awful to you over the years", he choked out. "I must have hurt you so many times, the things I've said, the ways I've pushed you away for their sake even though- you were - are - my best friend, and I treated you like that meant nothing to me. Rest assured that it did, it did, it meant...everything, I was just-" Aziraphale sighed deeply. "Please, Crowley, can you forgive me?"

"Angel.."

"I understand if you can't", Aziraphale said, apparently expecting to be declined. "I don't blame you." He sounded small, broken, exhausted. Crowley couldn't bear it.

"Angel." He reached forward, a warm thumb brushing over the dampness on Aziraphale's cheek. "It's all forgotten already", he assured him truthfully, "In the past. Don't torture yourself. Please don't. It's fine."

"It's not fine." Aziraphale shook his head vigorously, pushing the demon's hand away as he did so. "Not for me. It's haunting me, Crowley."

Oh Lord, please God, Satan, anyone. What could he do? What could he say to ease his angel's mind? Crowley begged no one in particular and everyone all at once to tell him, he sent his plea out into the universe, desperately craving to get an answer.

Of course, he didn't. All he could do was stare at Aziraphale, the angel's distress mirrored in his serpentine eyes in the face of his own damned helplessness. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know. He didn't...

All he could do was listen.

"I have my own nightmares, you know", Aziraphale confessed, mouth twitching sadly. "I just don't react to them quite as...vividly."

"What?" He had to press the words out, his throat tightening in shocked surprise. "W-Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to burden you further. I know you have enough to carry already."

What was worse? The meaning of the words as they sank slowly into Crowley's agitated mind like a thousand little needles? Or the tiredness in Aziraphale's voice, the apologetic shrug of his slumped shoulders?

Oh, this damned (not literally) selfless idiot!

"But that's what friends are for, angel." Crowley was in a trance, a trance of hurt and sorrow and empathy and altogether far too many blasted emotions for one single demon to handle (especially as said demon wasn't supposed to feel any of them in the first place). His lips moved, he heard words leaving, but he couldn't remember to have thought them out before. They were just flowing out of him while his mind seemed to be in a daze, and he let them, not caring if his voice dissolved into a whimper. "That's what love does. Share everything, good or bad. I could have helped you."

"Oh, you already did, my darling." His head noted how Aziraphale somehow managed something resembling a smile. "I...ah. I tried sleeping before...well, us", he told him. "And then I gave up on it again because I used to have this one dream over and over again. And having you beside me helped. It's not that frequent anymore."

A pause. The angel seemed to believe he had finished, but Crowley was far from letting the matter rest.

"Tell me."

"Pardon?"

"Tell me", Crowley demanded, or he would have, if his voice could have gathered enough authority for it.

"Now?" The angel's eyes widened impossibly more, almost frightened. "Oh dear...shouldn't we- sh-shouldn't we go back to the meal?", he stuttered, stumbling over his own words in his failing attempt to sound light-hearted and enthusiastic. "I've darkened the mood enough already with my foolish rambling." He tried to laugh, but Crowley could see on his face that even Aziraphale knew how forced it sounded.

"No." Good. His voice was steady again, resolute. "Tell me now. Please", he added more softly, relieved when the angel finally nodded hesitantly, despite his horrified expression. It killed Crowley that he had to force him to go through his literal nightmare, but he needed to know. He needed to.

Aziraphale swallowed visibly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as if to find a more comfortable position, or maybe it was just the nerves.

"It usually starts with the two of us", the angel began slowly, his voice quiet but fairly steady (for now). "St James' Park, 18- (he swallowed) 1862. Or the bandstand. We argue." He gave Crowley a pleading look, asking him to understand, to forgive, to interrupt him and say that all was well, to stay silent because he wouldn't be able to hold himself together otherwise. There were so many questions in Aziraphale's eyes, so many unspoken words, so many emotions, so much of everything - Crowley couldn't make out what it really was his eyes wanted to say, so he swallowed all the answers he could have given and kept his mouth shut (also for now).

"I say all those...those terrible things to you", Aziraphle continued, voice pitched higher with every word. "I hear them over and over again in my head, I see the hurt on your face. But then it changes, transforms into something hard and indifferent...something that doesn't look like you at all." A pause. Another gulp. When he went on, the tears had left his voice, leaving it empty and emotionless.

"And then you go", he said. "And you...you don't return. You never return. I know you won't. Because how could you? I've driven you away and I don't deserve you and your kindness, nor your forgiveness. It was always just a matter of time until I'd push you too far and you'd realize that I'm not worth the trouble." Aziraphale swallowed thickly. "Then I'm being called back to Heaven. And there are the other angels. They don't say a word, but I can feel their eyes on me, the satisfaction on their faces. They know. They know I lost you. They know I...know I love you. They know I'm nothing but a silly, book-hoarding, pathetic excuse for an angel who was stupid and weak enough to fall in love with a demon. A demon that would never...could never love him back. And I'm so alone." His voice was barely above a whisper by now, and just as it appeared to get lost completely, Aziraphale straightened himself almost invisibly, pulling everything back together somehow to bring it to an end with the slightest hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. "I'm surrounded by them but I'm completely alone. And it doesn't matter anymore if I'm up there or down on Earth because you're not there", he explained, that strange sad smile increasing. "And you never will be. Because you don't want to. Because I've driven you away. Because I'm not worthy of you or your affection. So I'm left with nothing." He shrugged his shoulders, his tone light, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. "Because that's what it comes down to. If you're not with me, Crowley, I have nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just...pointless."

His eyes had been flitting around while he spoke, settling on a point in the distance, brushing over Crowley's face, averted to rest on the blanket. But now he looked at the demon, waiting, expectant, and Crowley knew he had to open his mouth, had to speak, to say something, anything...If just his mind didn't feel like the circuit had been cut off.

"Az-", he croaked out, unsure how he managed to speak, not knowing what to say, "Aziraphale. Angel, I-"

But the angel in question smiled, a kind and gentle smile, a soft smile, but also an almost unbearably sad one. He silenced him with a little shake of his head, just smiling that sad understanding smile, and Crowley felt like crying. Not just because he couldn't stand to watch Aziraphale hurting.

It was the fucking empathy in his gaze now. The knowing way his mouth twitched. The sad acknowledgement that Crowley wanted to help and yet couldn't, didn't have the words, the actions, the strength, the power. And what did Aziraphale do?

He smiled. He smiled at him. Always kindness and understanding and acceptance and love even in the face of his own pain, and yet he thought himself weak and a coward and unworthy, and it was too much. And Crowley felt like crying, but then the wetness on his cheeks told him that he already was. No loud sobs. No sniffing. Just silent streams running down his face and dropping down on his chest, in his lap, catching in the fabric of his shirt and turning it an even darker shade of black (yes, that's possible. Something can be blacker than black. Especially when you're a supernatural being and believe that it can).

"And now", Aziraphale said as he picked up the pages again, and Crowley felt his heart break a little more when he watched how the smile increased, blue eyes flitting over the verses, "I read these words and...it seems almost too good to be true."

He looked at Crowley and his eyes were sparkling, shimmering with tears but not hurting anymore, no - just filled and positively overflowing with love and something that looked very close to astonishment. "That you would still be able to feel this way after everything...that you would still want me, still want to be with me after every horrible thing I did to you and-"

There was so much damned gratefulness in his voice. How was a demon supposed to handle something like that? For heaven's sake, he wasn't supposed to incite anything alike, ever! Especially not from an angel. An angel that had no idea how incredibly good and amazing and special he was.

"Angel." Thank someone he'd found his voice again. He couldn't bear to be silent for even another second. He knew his words wouldn't be enough, would never be. But they were all he had to give right now, so he'd keep talking and telling him over and over for as long as it took. "Angel, listen to me. I've left all that behind me a long time ago, do you hear? Ain't nothing you could do or say to drive me away." He couldn't resist, didn't want to. He cupped Aziraphale's cheeks with both hands, pressed their foreheads together. "I love you", he whispered, their breaths mingling. "You're too hard on yourself. You're my best friend, I love you, of course I do, of course, of course..."

"Would you say it?" The request was nothing but an exhale against his damp cheek, so quiet he probably wouldn't have heard if it wasn't for the current proximity. "Please, dear, would you say it? Just once."

Crowley pinched his eyes together, shifting ruefully, but not breaking the contact. There was nothing he wanted more than to give the angel what he wanted, and he knew exactly what it was Aziraphale was craving, but...

"I don't think it works like that when I do it", he mumbled, just a hint of an apology reverberating in his voice. He felt the angel slightly shake his head against Crowley's.

"Doesn't matter. I'd just..." He could hear Aziraphale swallow, "...like to hear it."

He could do that. Oh yes, he could do that. Even if it meant nothing in the end, at least he could do that.

"I forgive you", he whispered and the tremble that ran through the angel's body at the words caught in the point their foreheads touched and sent an echo reverberating through the demon's veins as well. Crowley released a long breath, felt his shoulders relax.

"Aziraphale." His voice was calm and steady, the words easy on his lips (easier than they probably should have been for a demon, but then, loving Aziraphale had always been far too easy for him, too). "I forgive you, I forgive you..."

"Thank you."

Crowley shook his head, finally breaking the contact, but only to press his lips to the angel's forehead instead, just where they had been resting against each other.

"Never thank me for loving you."

There was another sob, but Aziraphale nodded, wiping his nose very un-elegantly (and un-aziraphalishly, for that matter), causing the corners of the demon's mouth to curl upwards.

"And you're wrong. You're not a coward. You've been so brave, angel", he smiled sincerely, wiping the traces on Aziraphale's cheeks with his thumbs. "Thousands of years and you never let them break you, never let them change you, make you one of them. And I'll thank you every day that you didn't let that happen. Yes, you", he accentuated to cease the doubtful frown between the angel's brows. "Not God. It's been your own strength that did it, nothing else. So don't you ever dare say again you're a coward, Aziraphale."

"I wanted to", the angel admitted, "Give into them. Sometimes." The pain in his voice was gone. But there was something else. Regret, maybe. A hint of shame Crowley only spotted because he'd been studying Aziraphale's ways for six thousand years, had committed every line on his face and change in his voice to memory.

"I didn't want to be like them, not really, but...I wanted to belong." Aziraphale shrugged apologetically, and Crowley resisted the urge to tell him that he didn't need to explain himself, didn't need any justification, but something told him that Aziraphale knew. He knew and yet he needed to speak it out loud, get rid of the past by putting it into words, setting it all free in order to be able to let it go.

"I just wanted to belong somewhere", he said as if more to himself, "And I thought...if not in Heaven, where else? What else have I left if I can't be the way they ask, the way I probably should have been. If I can't match their expectations, can't -..."

"It wasn't your fault", Crowley silenced him, voice gentle but firm. "I know they hurt you. I know. All this stuff they whispered in your ear and planted in your head all that time." Lies about being the good ones, about the Great Plan (without really knowing it themselves), about earthly pleasures being a sin, about hereditary enemies bullshit, about demons being unable to love.

"It's okay. I understand. But we're done with all this. Let it go, angel", he asked tenderly. "Try. Please. I can't bear to see you blaming yourself for shit these archasses fucked up", he added, sounding more like his usual self, and watched how Aziraphale's mouth twitched slightly. The demon revelled in it, taking pride in being the thing that would always bring the smile back to those lips, one way or another. It didn't quite reach his eyes yet, the lines of worry hadn't smoothed out completely, but it was a start.

"I'm just so ashamed, Crowley", Aziraphale sighed. "How long it took me to understand that it was you I belonged with, belonged to. It's always been you, my dear." He lifted a hand to the demon's face, thumb brushing lovingly over his now dry skin, tracing the high cheekbone. "And we wasted so much time. I've wasted so much time and just because I was too afraid."

"No." Crowley covered his hand with his own, pressed a kiss to the angel's open palm to underline his words without breaking eye contact for even a heartbeat. "Not a second spent with you could ever be wasted, angel."

And Aziraphale looked at him, just looked back at him, their eyes locked together as if Crowley were the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Then tell me I'm yours, the angel's gaze seemed to say, to plead, a silent scream that clouded those impeccably blue skies. Tell me you'll have me as long as you want. Even longer. Even if you didn't want me, I'd still be hopelessly, eternally yours.

And Crowley could do nothing but surge forward and press his lips against Aziraphale's, a desperate desire rushing through every fibre of his body to chase the last traces of doubt out of the angel's head.

Hush, my angel. His lips were gentle but insistent against Aziraphale's, the kiss slow but deep. Don't you ever believe there could be a place or a time where I wouldn't want you. You're mine as I am yours. Forever. Hopefully, Aziraphale would be able to feel the words on his lips, taste the essence of it in his mouth. Nothing you do or say could change that. Nothing.

It wasn't a promise. It was their truth.

Crowley broke the kiss to trace a path from the angel's mouth over his cheek and forehead, leaving tiny pecks in his wake as he travelled to his nose and finally back to his lips. He could feel the angel smiling against his mouth, causing him to lean back just enough to be able to look at it properly. And yes, that was it - the smile he'd wanted to bring back. All joy and gentleness and love. All Aziraphale. It was beautiful. Goodness, how was he always so damn beautiful?

"You're such a sweetheart", Aziraphale said, all fondness and affection, and Crowley didn't have it in himself to do more than a half-hearted protest. You know. Out of principle.

"Am not", he grumbled, but the angel just smiled, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You can deny it as much as you like, I know the truth. And the truth is that you're a big softie, my dear."

And fuck it all. It was bloody true.

"For you, angel", Crowley granted. "Only for you."

The light blush covering his angel's cheeks at that was one of the loveliest sights Crowley could possibly imagine. This was what he wanted Aziraphale to look like - smiling and smitten and bashful and beautiful and happy, because of him, Crowley. Always.

"Oh, and...Aziraphale?" He covered one of Aziraphale's hands with his own where the angel has rested it on the blanket. "Wake me up the next time you dream, okay? Please. Let me do this for you. Let me help you." He tangled their fingers together. "Allow me to save you one more time."

And Aziraphale looked at him with wide glassy eyes, smiling this small incredulous smile full of- Crowley could not describe it as anything else- awe.

"Do you have even the slightest idea how beautiful you are?", the angel said, shaking his head to himself. "I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that." Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's fingers. "Never say stuff like that."

~oOo~

"My dearest, darling demon." Aziraphale leaned in, carded his fingers through the soft red hair, brushing a strand out of the demon's face. "You beautiful, beautiful soul." He could watch how the blush crept up from Crowley's neck, painting his cheeks and licking at his ears. Crowley squirmed, clearly embarrassed, but didn't draw away from his touch, and Aziraphale loved it, loved him with all of his heart and probably even beyond that.

"I do love you desperately, you know", he said just because he could. It didn't matter that Crowley did indeed already know. The mere possibility, the simple fact that he could finally just say it out loud without a second thought was such a blessing, Aziraphale was unable to resist.

Before - before Antichrists and dogs and horsemen and prophecy books, before the world didn't end - he'd believed that-...it had felt like saying the words would be too much, that the weight of it would scare the demon, drive him away. Now he felt rather foolish to have thought so. Because the words weren't enough. Not nearly enough. They didn't capture in the least what he meant to tell him. But if there was one thing Aziraphale was sure of, it was that never, in all the history of time, anyone had ever loved another being as much as he loved Crowley.

"The feeling is mutual."

And didn't that still make the angel's heart flutter every single time.

Sometimes, Aziraphale still wished he could be better. A better friend, a better angel, a better person for lack of a better word. Not for Her, certainly not for Upstairs - for Crowley. But the thing was, he didn't need to be anyone or anything for Crowley, except for exactly who he already was, who he'd always been - for that flawed, imperfect version of him was the one that his demon had inexplicably chosen to gift with his love.

Crowley took the angel's left hand and pressed a kiss to the ring on his finger.

"Did I ever tell you why I chose this one?", Crowley asked him.

"I supposed it was because of the snake."

"Yes. But also the stone. Moonstone", Crowley explained. "Instantly reminded me of you when I saw it. White and shimmering... We've been orbiting each other for 6000 years, angel. Like moons to each other's sun. Always held in place by an invisible force of attraction, yet unable to touch."

(Until they found a way to do so. And the ring was a promise never to lose that touch again)

"Huh." Aziraphale stared at his demon, this sweet, thoughtful creature that had somehow ended up being his. "And you say you don't have a way with words, my dear."

Crowley just shrugged his shoulders.

"Also", the demon went on, "the design was called Eden. Couldn't resist such a disgustingly perfect cliché."

"Oh!" He had almost forgotten! "Speaking of it. I..ah. I may have a gift for you after all."

~oOo~

"An...anniversary tree?"

Crowley stared at the newest addition standing proudly in the centre of his greenhouse. It certainly hadn't been there yesterday, or even this morning, Heaven knew where the angel had hidden that thing until now.

"What?" Aziraphale looked at him from the side. "Not good?"

"I didn't say that. It's just...unconventional."

"I was looking for herbs and simply couldn't resist when I saw it. Because..."

Aziraphale bit his bottom lip in that sinful way that drove Crowley absolutely crazy.

Speaking of sinful-

"...it's an apple tree", Crowley realized, and Aziraphale nodded.

"Well, yes. I guess I became a bit sentimental." He took Crowley's hand, searching the demon's gaze, a heavy swallow betraying his nervousness. "Do you like it, though?", Aziraphale asked, and his eyes were so fucking big and blue and hopeful Crowley could feel himself falling all over again.

"Of course, I do! I love it." Alziraphale beamed at him, and yep, Crowley was in fucking free fall right there. "I love you", he said, because he had to, and he wanted to, and he was allowed to.

Aziraphale squeezed his hand.

"I love you, too."

Maybe falling wasn't all that bad when there was someone there to catch you.