Chapter Text
It was a Tuesday.
Crowley liked Tuesday.
Nothing remarkable ever happened on Tuesdays.
Tuesdays were days he could dedicate to being around Aziraphale.
He sauntered his way down the streets of the city, seamlessly passing through the crowds, and slipping into the bookshop. He moved to turn the sign to ‘close’ but paused when he noticed that it had already been done.
“Strange.”
Aziraphale rarely kept the shop closed, as a common courtesy to the public. He’d never sell a book, but he’d never stop people from coming in. He loved people.
“Angel?” He called softly. “Are you here?”
There was something different about the air in the shop.
A new tension had filled it, giving it an almost tangy taste.
Someone else was here.
Crowley lifted his chin slightly and inhaled deeply.
It was an angel.
No.
An archangel.
What did the bastard want?
He crossed the floor of the shop and began to carefully peer around the shelves, following the scent as it got stronger.
“Hold still.”
Crowley’s skin crawled at the sound of Gabriel’s voice.
“Please...stop...”
“I’ve told you not to pull away.”
Aziraphale suddenly made a strangled gasping sound, followed by a whine that seemed to get stuck in his throat.
Crowley melted into the form of a snake and began to slither his way toward whatever the hell was going on.
“I can smell that demon on you. How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from him? It’s off-putting to be near such a foul stench.”
Aziraphale remained silent, seeming to focus intently on his breathing - which was heavy and ragged.
Crowley turned the corner of a shelf and felt immediate anger boil within him at the scene before him.
Aziraphale was on his hands and knees, his clothes disheveled, and his wings, stretching a few feet on either side of him were in full view.
Gabriel was behind him - stroking his fingers through the white feathers.
Crowley nearly threw up at the vile familiarity of the scene.
Angels weren’t meant to touch the wings of another angel. Not without consent, at least, and Crowley knew immediately that that had not been given. Demons were more likely to ignore consent - something he knew personally, but angels? Angels should know better.
“Crowley is my friend,” Aziraphale suddenly managed to say, his voice tight and controlled.
“Friends with a demon? My, my, my.” Gabriel placed his other hand on Aziraphale's other wing, drawing out another strangled gasp. “What are we going to do about that? What was it that I did last time? You'll have to remind me."
Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut. “P-please, Gabriel.”
“Perhaps I should make this punishment a bit more...memorable.” He grabbed a feather with the tip of his thumb and index finger. “Promise me that you’ll never see the demon again, and I won’t do what I’m about to do.”
Aziraphale shook his head, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.
“You’re going to see him again?”
Aziraphale nodded. His chest was fluttering with his uneven breaths, and a layer of sweat had formed on his forehead.
“Hmm. Alright then.” Gabriel plucked the feather from the wing.
Aziraphale cried out and immediately pulled his wings against his body.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Gabriel shoved him to his stomach, and placed his foot on his back, forcing the wings back out. “What did I tell you?”
Crowley had seen enough.
He wasn’t a match against an Archangel - he knew that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull his attention.
He rose into his human form and stepped into the light.
“I think that’s enough.”
Enough anger to summon lightning was coursing through him, but he contained it and simply stared the angel down.
Gabriel looked up at him. “Well, well, well, speak of the devil.” He chuckled at his own joke and replaced both hands into the feathers of Aziraphale’s wings. “We were just discussing you.”
“I know. Now get away from him.”
Gabriel leveled his gaze with Crowley, and cocked his head slightly.. “Or what?”
“Crowley, please, go,” Aziraphale said weakly.
Gabriel fisted a bunch of feathers, causing Aziraphale to inhale sharply and close his eyes. “Silence."
Crowley squeezed his hands into fists in order to maintain control over himself. “I thought angels were meant to be better than this.”
Gabriel tsked his tongue. “ This is punishment. We aren’t above correcting wrong behavior.”
“Through this? Huh. That’s new. Get your hands out of his wings, and get your sorry ass out of this shop.”
“Or. What?”
Crowley raised his hand, drawing a ball of hellfire to his palm. “We both know that this is enough to scorch you.”
Gabriel stared at him for a moment, before chuckling. “You know what? This is sweet. Look at you, coming to save an angel. Really. I’m moved.”
“Do you think I’m bluffing?”
“Oh no. I think you’re very serious. I also just think that if you throw that at me, then you risk burning Aziraphale as well, and I think I’m right in saying that you don’t want that to happen.”
He had a point.
Crowley hated it, but it was true.
“Now be a good boy, and put that out.”
Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale, who was staring at the far wall, his gaze slightly glazed. “Angel...”
“Now!” Gabriel grabbed another fistful of feathers and made a movement of pulling them out.
A soft cry of pain, laced with fear, escaped Azirphale’s lips.
“Alright!” Crowley extinguished the flames and raised his hands. “Alright. You’ve taught your lesson. You’ve done enough. Now, please leave.”
Another sickly chuckle came from Gabriel. “A demon begging me to do something - there’s something I never thought I’d see.” He leveled his gaze with Crowley. “Do it properly and I might consider doing as you ask.”
Crowley licked his lips. “Properly? What do you mean, properly?”
“Get on your knees.” He smiled when Crowley remained frozen. “Is Aziraphale worth your pride, demon?”
Crowley had never hated another being more than the one he was staring at.
And that was saying something.
Aziraphale was worth more than his pride.
He would do anything for him.
Maintaining eye contact with Gabriel, Crowley lowered himself to his knees. “Please leave him alone," he said, failing to keep the venom from his voice.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes slightly. "I don't think you're being genuine." He plucked a feather from Aziraphale's right wing.
Aziraphale whimpered.
"Please," Crowley repeated desperately. "Please, leave him be. Please. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me. I know how much you hate me, so take it out on me. Not him. He's done nothing."
Gabriel plucked out two more feathers, drawing a strangled cry from Aziraphale. "You hear that, Aziraphale? Your demon friend is offering himself up in your place. Should I take him up on his offer?"
"N-no," Aziraphale cried. "No, please. Please, leave him alone. Don't touch him."
"Well, aren't you two a perfect pair," Gabriel sneered.
"What do you want?" Crowley asked. "Please, leave. Please, Gabriel."
Gabriel considered him for a moment, before shrugging and removing his hands. “Very well. I will honor your request - this time. I think the lesson has stuck.” He looked down at Aziraphale, who hadn’t moved. “Until next time.” He smirked at Crowley, before vanishing.
A heavy silence, accompanied by thick tension settled onto the room.
Crowley rushed across the room and knelt next to Aziraphale, who had curled around himself with his wings pulled close against himself. “He’s gone - the bastard.”
Aziraphale remained silent.
Crowley hesitated for a moment, before reaching out and placing his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “It’s just us,” he whispered. “Just me.”
A long moment, that seemed to stretch into eternity, passed before Aziraphale lifted his head and looked around.
“Come on, let’s get you up.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s arms and gently helped him to his feet. “This way.” He kept his arms on him and guided him towards a chair. "Down we go."
His wings were still visible and trembling slightly.
The feathers were disheveled.
Crowley suddenly remembered all the times he had ever seen Aziraphale spend hours grooming the feathers back into place.
This hadn’t been the first time Gabriel had dolled out his punishment.
“Here.” He miracled a glass of water to his hand and held it up to Aziraphale’s mouth. “Drink. Come on.” He pressed the cup to his lips and tipped it slightly. "Down the hatch."
Aziraphale drank.
His gaze was still unfocused and distant.
It was wrong.
So, completely wrong.
Crowley knelt in front of him, and place a hand gently over Aziraphale’s. “You in there, angel?”
A few minutes passed before Azirphale’s gaze shifted and focused on Crowley’s face.
Crowley attempted a smile. “There you are.”
Azirphale’s expression morphed slightly into one of shame and guilt.
He pulled his hands away and crossed his arms over his chest.
Crowley could physically see him putting up the wall. “No, come on, don’t be like that.”
“You shouldn’t have seen that.”
“Seen that? Do you hear yourself? Angel - that never should have happened in the first place. Gabriel had no right to touch you like that. You and I both know the rules that exist to protect the sanctity of an angel’s wings. What he did was equivalent to a human rape.”
Aziraphale flinched and looked away.
“Yes, it’s an ugly word - I know you don’t like it, but I used it because it’s true. You know it’s true.”
“I...I don’t...please just leave it alone.” Aziraphale stood and began to pace. “You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have-”
Crowley stood as well. “What? Intervened?”
Aziraphale didn’t say anything.
"Well, tough, because there was no way that I was allowing that display of power to continue."
"He could have killed you."
"I don't care. He was hurting you."
"I deserved it."
Crowley placed himself in front of Aziraphale. "You did not just say that."
"Gabriel-"
"I'm sure Gabriel would love to have you believe that you deserve that, but you didn't. I won't stand by you saying that."
Aziraphale stared him down for a second, before wilting slightly. "You weren't supposed to see that," he whispered.
Crowley sighed.
They were both too riled up to properly talk about anything.
He needed to try a different approach to helping the angel. His angel. “Would you like me to fix your wings?”
It took a moment for the question to register in Aziraphale’s mind before he slowly looked up. “What?”
“The feathers in the back will be hard for you to reach. Would you like me to do it?” It was a lot to ask, but Crowley knew his intentions.
“Oh. Oh. I don’t...I...” He massaged his hands together nervously and glanced around the shop, taking a small step back. “I...alright,” he finished softly.
“Are you sure? Because I don’t have to.”
“No, it’s alright. I-I trust you.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, before moving back to the chair. “I trust you,” he murmured.
His wings were still pressed against his back.
Crowley walked around so that he was facing Aziraphale’s back. “I’m going to place my hand on your left wing,” he said softly.
Aziraphale inhaled shakily and nodded. “I’m ready,” he replied just as softly.
“I need you to spread your wings out,” Crowley prompted.
“Oh. Right.” Aziraphale took another deep breath, before slowly unfurling his wings.
The sacredness of the situation weighed heavily on Crowley, as he placed his hand on the bow of Aziraphale’s left wing.
Aziraphale shuddered and inhaled sharply.
“It’s just me,” Crowley soothed softly.
Aziraphale nodded. “I know,” he replied softly.
Crowley took a breath and set to work carefully rearranging the feathers. “It’s just me,” he commented, whenever Aziraphale got worked up and pulled his wings close to himself. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Nearly an hour of patiently coaxing Aziraphale to relax passed before all of the feathers on both wings were rearranged.
“There we go. Perfect.” Crowley pulled his hands away and stepped back. “Done.”
Aziraphale glanced over his shoulders at both wings. “Thank you,” he said softly.
The wings shimmered out of view.
Crowley walked around and sat across from the angel. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Aziraphale looked away from him. “No,” he whispered.
“How many times?”
Aziraphale remained silent, refusing to look at him.
The anger boiled within him, at the implication.
“When did it start?” Crowley tried.
Several minutes of Aziraphale studying the ground passed before he finally answered. “1827,” he whispered.
Crowley shot to his feet. “1827?”
Aziraphale flinched and looked up at him. “Crowley, please.”
Crowley began to pace, his mind racing to connect dots. “1827...that was when we were in Scotland...we stopped the girl from killing herself...I was taken down to hell and...” his voice failed, as the realization slammed into him. “Oh.”
He hadn’t been there.
Hell had kept him prisoner for years, leaving Aziraphale alone and defenseless.
An emptiness settled in his stomach. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He lowered himself back into the chair. “I could have helped you.”
Aziraphale looked down at his nails. “You were dealing with the aftermath of your own...punishment,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to burden you.”
“You should have burdened me. What Hell did to me was within their realm of actions. Heaven had no right to do what they did. Gabriel should be ashamed of himself for performing such a vile and disgusting act.”
Aziraphale hugged himself. “He told me he was punishing me for consorting with a demon. But after a while, it became less of a punishment and more of a...a...” He looked away, shame and guilt radiating from him.
Crowley closed his eyes. “You should have told me.”
“What would you have been able to do, Crowley?" Aziraphale looked up, his gaze blazing slightly. "Gabriel would have gladly taken the opportunity to do away with you. It was my burden to bear.”
Crowley slipped off his chair and knelt in front of Aziraphale. “Do you think so little of our relationship?”
Aziraphale frowned slightly and shifted. “What?”
“I want your burdens, angel. I want every part of you. We’re a team, remember. It’s you and I against...well against everything else.”
Aziraphale looked away, his eyes suddenly glassy. “Crowley...”
“Hey.” Crowley placed his finger under Aziraphale’s chin and turned his head back towards himself. “Stars fell when we met,” he said softly. “And I fell right along with them.”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I have been in love with you since I knew what love was - both coincidently happened at the same moment. I’m saying that if Gabriel thinks he can defile you in the way that he has, and not get away with it, then he has another thing coming. There is no way in hell - or heaven that I’m allowing him to touch you again.”
Aziraphale was staring at him, his expression one of shock. “You love me?” He whispered.
Crowley stared back at him and nodded. “Yes.”
“Love?”
Crowley suddenly became very aware of what he had just confessed. It had come out so naturally, that he hadn’t even thought twice about it. “Love, angel,” he confirmed. “Are you really so surprised?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I just...I never imagined that we would - that you would...like this. This is...no...this is wrong." He pushed himself away from Crowley. "You-you saw me - you saw what Gabriel has done to me. You know that my soul is now defiled and tarnished and broken and-”
Crowley pushed himself up and kissed Aziraphale. It was the only thing he could think of doing - the only thing that seemed right. He’d been doing the wrong thing for centuries, and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to do right by his angel.
Aziraphale remained frozen for a long moment before his hand found the back of Crowley’s head. “Oh,” he whispered when Crowley pulled away.
“You listen to me, angel, I don’t care how you view yourself. I do, actually. I care deeply. But it will never ever change how I view you. You are the purest, kindest, loveliest being that I know. Heaven never deserved you. What Gabriel has done to you doesn’t change that.”
Aziraphale stared at him before tears suddenly spilled down his cheeks. “Oh...” He covered his mouth. “I thought...I was certain that you would leave...that’s why I didn’t tell you. I was terrified that you would realize the truth of how damaged I am, and...”
Crowley’s heart squeezed with emotion. “You daft angel.” He placed his hands on Aziraphale’s cheeks and thumbed away his tears. “My angel. My sweet, sweet, angel. I am yours until the last star of the galaxy goes out. I will never ever leave you. You are not broken. You are not damaged. Your soul is not tarnished. I do not think any less of you. I could never think any less of you.” He hesitated a brief moment, before closing his eyes and willing his wings into view.
Aziraphale gasped softly, his eyes widening as he took in the ruffled and disheveled feathers, the scars where something sharp had been dragged against the coverts, and the places where feathers had been ripped out and were still growing back.“Who...”
“Hastur did quite a bit of it. And Beelzebub. I was chained in the common area, left to the amusement and use of whoever passed by.”
“Oh, Crowley.”
Crowley pushed past the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him. “We bear the same marks, angel. We are rejected and scorned - the punished. Our sides will never understand us, but we don't need them to. We have each other."
Aziraphale slid off his chair and knelt in front of Crowley. “May I?”
Crowley swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes.”
Aziraphale reached out and carefully placed his hand on the right wing. His hands were still shaking slightly, but Crowley still felt the steady sureness of his power.
A warm feeling washed over Crowley, and when he looked at his wing, he realized that Aziraphale had healed the scars, and fixed the feathers.
“Angel...” Tears stung Crowley’s eyes, as his wings were returned to a state of wholeness.
Aziraphale closed his eyes and willed his own wings back into view.
Crowley immediately tracked the places where Gabriel had pulled feathers.
They were the same.
“I haven’t said it back, yet.”
Crowley was too stunned to catch onto what Aziraphale was talking about. “Said what, angel?”
“I love you,” he said. “I fell with the stars, as well, my dear. I’ve been falling ever since.”
Crowley smiled, the same warmth that Aziraphale had procured, spreading throughout his entire being. “It’s about time we caught each other, then.”
Aziraphale smiled softly and nodded. “Yes.” His wings moved forward and carefully wrapped around Crowley. “We should have trusted each other with our burdens.”
“We should have,” Crowley agreed. He shifted his wings so that they were wrapped around Aziraphale. “I’m not going to let Gabriel touch you, again.”
“Nor am I going to let hell touch you. We just have to figure out - ”
Crowley had been waiting for this moment. “We make them forget us.”
Aziraphale frowned. “What?”
“I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time. What if we perform a combined miracle that forces both heaven and hell to forget that we exist? We erase everything from all of their minds. The bookshop, the Bentley, our reports - every-everything. All of it.”
Aziraphale nodded slowly. “That would be quite the miracle.”
“They wouldn’t know who did it. They would walk right past us, and not even know.”
Aziraphale thought for a long moment before he slowly nodded. “I suppose it could work.”
“I know it would.”
It had to.
Crowley reached out and interlocked his fingers with Aziraphale’s. “You and me, angel. That’s all we need. No more doing the bidding of those that use and abuse us. Just us.”
“Us,” Aziraphale whispered.
Crowley placed his hands on Aziraphale’s cheeks. “Ready?”
Aziraphale nodded.
“Count of three. One...two...” He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale, allowing his power to perform the miracle that would erase them from any record that heaven and hell kept.
Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and returned the kiss, his mouth opening slightly so that Crowley’s lips could slide in and fit perfectly.
Crowley could feel the power around them, doing their bidding, but he didn’t care.
Stars could be falling from the sky, but the only thing he would ever care about was Aziraphale.
His angel.
It was a Tuesday.
Crowley liked Tuesdays.
Nothing remarkable ever happened on a Tuesday.
That is until the most remarkable thing happened - Aziraphale became his.