Chapter Text
The first time Aziraphale had touched Crowley it had been an absentminded gesture. Crowley hadn’t seen it coming and didn’t manage to flinch away from it. He’d seen demons burn under the divine power of an angel’s touch and Crowley had, for several thousand years, been careful not to stand too close. And on the occasions when he had passed any object to the angel he had been careful to keep his fingers out of the way. He’d often gone so far as to set whatever it was down within the angel’s reach instead of handing it straight to him.
And Aziraphale had risen from their pub table and just walked past him and companionably laid a hand on his shoulder. Damn him.
Crowley had gotten too comfortable with their arrangement. Had, in his head, begun to think of Aziraphale not as his foe but as the only person like him. Not friends, at least not good friends. But to an extent Crowley trusted the angel. (And he’d deny it but he’d liked Aziraphale from the moment they’d met in their newly established roles as angel and demon. He wasn’t supposed to, but... he'd never done as he was supposed to.)
Aziraphale’s hand lifted from his shoulder almost as quickly as Crowley registered that he had been touched. Crowley’s eyes widened and he froze. He suddenly remembered that he had lungs and a heart as both systems malfunctioned. His heart pounded and his breath hitched in his chest. His head snapped to the side to watch as Aziraphale swayed towards the bar to procure another round.
It had been warm, that hand. He’d felt that even in the brevity. It had made the rest of his skin prickle with a perceived cold. He wanted the angel to do it again.
The next time it had been awhile since he had seen Aziraphale. Admittedly he’d holed up in a disused castle and slept for the majority of the 14th century. It was a bloody boring century. The Angel had seen him and practically bounded up to him. Crowley, so good to see you, where have you been? Aziraphale had reached out with both hands and clasped Crowley’s arms right above the elbow. It was the closest they had ever stood and Crowley was aware of how bright Aziraphale shone in the dimensions that humans couldn’t see. He felt blinded. No wonder, he wasn’t wearing his glasses. His arms felt fever hot and he could feel where the Angel’s hands had been days after. It wasn’t a burn though. His flesh hadn’t been destroyed by the encounter. He wanted Aziraphale to do it again.