Work Text:
"..."
"What was that?"
"... nothing. Nothing at all!"
That had happened a lot of times through six thousand years.
So many whispers that had been uttered too softly by Crowley and Aziraphale had been lost in the wind.
Some of those whispers had been compliments, others had been sarcastic remarks. However, most of them had been prayers about each other's well being, especially in difficult and tiring times, or confession about themselves.
For six thousand years those whispers had been closely guarded and never revealed: those had been too dangerous to be revealed.
After the Armageddon't, some of those whispers had been uttered a little louder, enough for somebody else to hear those. More often than not, those words had painted a smile on the other being's lips (sometimes a fond smile, other times an affectionately annoyed one).
Since that day, a new kind of whisper was born: in fact, the angel and the demon had found they liked the idea, on many occasions, to get closer and closer and utter some words between themselves that nobody else could hear.
Those whispers had become Crowley and Aziraphale's most precious ones, especially when they were able to see a blush on the other's cheeks.