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In 1862.. there came a time where two celestial beings stood side-by-side in a hushed fit, over Holy Water. Aziraphale was beyond appalled by Crowley. The audacity the demon had to even ask such a thing was beyond him. It was a suicide mission, he thought. And the demon beside him was all upset with himself as to how this was playing out. The angel wouldn’t ever see to it, he thought. It was a fit of miscommunication.. and desperation.
“Crowley you have no idea what you are truly getting into.”, Aziraphale’s voice shaked with worry and fury.
The demon kept his gaze on the lake, thoughts overflowing on those simple words. Don’t know what you are truly getting into. He grimaced.
“Oh, I know a lot more than you do, angel.” Crowley chided back.
The angel’s eyebrows furrowed, beginning to become annoyed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“...Nothin’.”,
Aziraphale huffed, “It doesn’t mean nothing.”
“ Nothing.” Crowley mocked
“Why in the world do you even need holy water?!”
“Drop it, angel.”
“I won’t just— just drop it! This is no dropping matter, Crowley! The last time I heard from you, you disappeared without a trace and now you— you want holy water?!?”
The angel became mad at the mere thought of potential suicide from the demon. To know that they both witnessed a failed attempt the last time they were together. Only to be asked of Holy Water . A gateway to end a demon. It was beyond plausible. He wouldn’t allow Crowley to do such acts.
“I told you, angel. Hell doesn’t sssend rude notes.” his hiss came out.
Aziraphale paused, looking at Crowley with a confused expression. His face began to show several emotions, almost too fast to catch. Not for Crowley though, he could tell what just clicked in the angel’s mind, and he did not like it. Confusion, Irritation, realization, worry, and finally fury. It was more of a mix of worry and fury, as far as Crowley could tell. He internally winced, groaning to himself at the look the angel held. He hated how much he loved the way it contrasted him. How it meant he cared .
Crowley bared his teeth in a grimace. Averting his gaze from the angel, staring blindly at the lake. He scowled at the ducks as if they’d just heard everything. Still wondering if they have ears. Everything stilled around him when heard a bare whisper in his ear. “Let me kiss your burns, dear.” —it almost sounded like a temptation. A flushed heat spread throughout his neck and on the tip of his ears. He could feel Aziraphale’s breath on his ear and he wouldn’t dare turn to face him. The amount of closeness was enough to make him feel dizzy. Out of reflex, Crowley shuddered.
Of course he had burns from hell’s last visit. But they weren’t the holiest of burns. Hell wouldn’t dare to carry holy water, not yet. Nevertheless, it left scars on the shoulderblades of his back. Almost where his wings should be sprouted out. Which felt nauseating to be reminded of to say the least. They still ache and sting but he’s not going to ever admit it easily.
Crowley sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Would you?..”, he barely huffed out. Out of his own will, he turned directly to Aziraphale. And oh, the angel was so close. He could feel his breath on his own.
Aziraphale hinted a small smile, almost in disbelief of what Crowley had just said. “Of course I would.”, he whispered again.
A small tug of a smile hinted into the demon’s lips. Aziraphale watched the movement, presently taking pride in causing it. “Well, let’s go then.”, he said rather suddenly, turning around abruptly and speeding away. Hoping Crowley wouldn’t be able to see the visible flush of his ears.
Staggering along, Crowley fumbled his way to catch up with the angel. “W-wot? Right now, angel?”, he breathed out.
The angel didn’t seem bothered by this, “Yes, right now. I’ll need to tend to you immediately.”, he rushed out.
Crowley huffed out an unintelligible sound, “tend?!?”
“Yes, tend. Now hurry along.”, he responded, not bothering to spare a look back. His voice was hoarse and high, it startled Crowley. He wanted to reach out to the angel’s hand. Furrowing his eyebrows together, he began to slow his steps, until he came to a stop overall. Maybe this was a bad idea. How could Aziraphale want to kiss, heal him, a demon? Sure, he’s done it once before.. But that was completely different. The angel was crying! It was merely an act of transitional appreciation… Whatever that means for the future.
Crowley felt the urge to grab a hold of his hand and stop all of this. He stared at the back of Aziraphale’s fluffy head and grimaced to himself.
He scowled at the angel in an unnerving manner without an explanation. A long stretch of paces passed through them until Aziraphale looked to his side, confused. Even more confused as he noticed Crowley not besides him at all. He turned entirely around, baffled. “Crowley!” His face portrayed confusion and then shock at the sight of Crowley behind him, holding a scowl directed towards him. There was a tense moment of silence. Aziraphale and Crowley both held their breath as the angel walked over to him slowly.
“My dear boy, if you do not wish for me to help… then think of it as a part of our… arrangement. ”, the angel said quietly, looking at the demon with conviction. He was standing quite close, to the point the serpent could feel the angel’s breath on him. It sent a sudden shiver down him.
The demon raised his eyebrows high, the scowl wiped off his face. He wasn’t wasn't opposed to the idea… But he wasn’t keen on it either. To feel the angel touch and kiss his scars was nerve racking. To have his angel know what he’s gone through in Hell. To have to show his angel his vulnerability of truth behind his exterior persona. But he felt as though the angel already knew him behind his demon act. Behind the angel he once was.
A sudden soft hand was on his cheek, and he snapped out of his own thoughts immediately to see the angel staring up at him with deep worryful eyes. His plump hand on the serpent’s cheek as a form of gentle comfort. Crowley’s mouth opened on its own, jaw dropping at the mere touch of the angel. It had been so long since they’ve touched each other.
Aziraphale smiled a little hesitantly, “Crowley… please, let me heal you..”, he whispered.
And dammit, Crowley had to fight back tears. He knew now that his angel would notice his scars soon enough. There was no true hiding from the inevitable. He knew his angel would help him. He gladly would without a thought. And that single piece of knowledge was both heartwarming and heartbreaking to him. With a strong but heavy heart, Crowley nodded wordlessly.
—-
With a long stretch of silence in the angel’s new but warming bookshop, the demon and angel stood solemnly. It was a tense moment. Neither knows what to expect out of this. Not knowing how this would eventually play out. Aziraphale was overly worried just as Crowley was overly self-conscious of his own vulnerability. For what seemed several minutes, the serpent spoke.
“..Aziraphale you know my scars aren’t from holy water, right?”, he said quietly, only above a whisper.
The angel turned to him, frowning with a look of worry. “Crowley..”, he whispered, coming to a stop and looking at him. “What did they do to you?”. It was beckoning on him now how real this situation was. How hurt his hereditary enemy yet friend truly was. The gravitating reality of Hell.
Crowley paused, not looking at Aziraphale and holding a tight frown. He was glad for his shades right now. They could hide the vulnerability in his eyes. They could hide the memories of Hell. The truth behind it all. He shook his head lightly, “You’ll see, angel. You’ll see.”, he replied solemnly.
And suddenly the angel’s heart froze over those simple words. ‘You’ll see.’… Was it truly that heart wrenching to where he couldn’t even explain? To where he couldn’t seek help from the angel on his own? Out of mere fear of him seeing the sight of his scars. The realization dawned upon the angel. Crowley had hidden his torment out of fear of Aziraphale seeing him in slight pain of vulnerability.
“Take off your shirt.”, was a sudden firm tone from the angel. He couldn’t help it. He felt angered out of the thought of anyone hurting Crowley. It was infuriating to know how hurt he might be. How much was inflicted upon him.
Crowley’s eyes widened slightly behind his shades and he hesitated. He froze momentarily before doing as told, slowly taking off each layer from the century. It was rather difficult to do at once, especially with the angel watching closely.
With a huff, the angel snapped his fingers and miracled them off, as well as his shades and hat. Crowley’s eyes widened once more, from both embarrassment and shock. He looked at Aziraphale, noticing his shades were gone as well. “You—Thought you couldn’t use frivolous miracles, angel.”, he remarked, trying not to feel awkward half naked.
Aziraphale smiled a little, glad the demon was able to lighten the mood even a bit. “Yes, well.. This was a time in need. Now go over to the chair over there.”, he pointed to his armchair that he would soon find himself in the future sitting on late nights with the serpent.
Crowley turned around to it, and Aziraphale gasped at the sight of his scars.
The angel took his hat off at the mere sight, lowering it and eventually dropping it. Not caring for it, and only focusing on the sight of the demon's scars. There was a stretch of burn scars shielding over his shoulder blades where his wings would sprout out; The thought of the amount of pain it would bring him to open his wings was shuddering. The burn scars were deep.. but not deep enough to stay permanent, not without the angel’s help.
The serpent tensed, realizing the angel already saw them. He was bound to see them of course but the suddenness was nerve racking. He’d expect the angel to not want to touch or kiss his scars away anymore. Not after seeing them. He wouldn’t ever be beautiful to the angel again. Not after he fell. And not ever now that his scars were shown. The demon took a deep breath, ready to escape the situation when he suddenly felt a gentle touch between his shoulder blades—in between his scars. He froze.
“Who did this to you?”, the angel’s voice sounded wretched, as though he couldn’t contain his anger.
He would’ve responded with ‘Hell’ or ‘Who do you think, angel?’ , but he could tell this wasn’t what he was asking. He knew Aziraphale wanted to know exactly which demon had inflicted the pain. And it was both terrifying and worrying. His breath hitched at the knowledge of Aziraphale seriously angered. Anger not directed at him, but the ones who caused him pain.
In only a whisper, the serpent responded, “Doesn’t matter.”
The finger pressing against his shoulder blades stilled, and so did Crowley. “Who?” he asked again but in a softer tone with a wary fury behind it.
Crowley hesitated, “..I don’t remember, angel.”, he whispered once more.
Aziraphale fell silent at his words but his thoughts were screaming at him to smite the demon(s) who dared to touch Crowley.
The serpent became uneasy, the angel’s rage was radiating off of him without a single word. Crowley’s breath caught knowing the anger came from the care for him. There was a moment of silence that spoke more volumes than words between them, and the demon spoke once more. “Angel..—”
“I’m going to smite them.”, his voice came out as a whisper that held power.
Crowley’s eyes widened, turning quickly to face the angel. “Aziraphale.”, he said but wasn’t quite sure what else he needed to say. He didn’t know what to say. He hoped the look in his eyes said enough.
The angel stared into the serpent's eyes without a single doubt or bluff in his words. He sighed, shaking his head lightly. “..Crowley…”, he frowned, contemplating everything. With a stern look, he decided his first priority would be to heal his scars. The smiting will have to be held off… for now.
“..Go lay down on the sofa.. on your stomach.”
Crowley went over silently after a few seconds of contemplation. He laid with his head on his arms, watching the angel as he went over to him. Aziraphale gave him a worried expression as he glanced at his eyes and then his scarred back. With a deep breath, he went over and sat on the edge of the sofa. “..I’m going to touch you now, Crowley.”, he whispered.
A low grunt of acknowledgment was all heard from the demon. Aziraphale placed his palms below his shoulder blades, below the scars. And began to rub his thumb gently, noticing how stiff the serpent seemed to be under his touch. Crowley allowed himself to slowly relax his body. Though he was still on alert.
Aziraphale lifted his hands and brought his fingers to almost graze the scars, ghostly caressing them. It sent a shiver down Crowley’s body. It was ticklish but comforting.
As the angel leaned closer to the scars, his eyes began to slowly well up with tears. He couldn’t help them. It was both infuriating and saddening to even think of Crowley being harmed. And knowing he couldn’t do anything to prevent it. With a shuddering sigh, he slowly pressed a soft kiss onto the top of a scar. Lips lingering onto his skin like a ghostly angel kiss awaiting for it to bloom. And slowly, a small freckle bloomed at the top of the scar. He slowly trailed down the scarring, leaving his lips onto each point longer than needed. He was gentle by the time he was finished with the first scar, he had silent tears escaping his eyes.
Once he leaned away, he ran a gentle finger over the freckled line of kisses. Some were small and others bigger.. Until a few caught his eye and he paused. There were star-shaped freckles among the others. The angel smiled a little at the sight, at the memory of when Crowley was happy. When he was an angel. When he could be with him safely in Heaven. He slowly frowned at the remembrance.
“Angel..?”, a low voice snapped him out of his own thoughts.
“Yes, my dear?”, he whispered, still softly tracing over the freckles.
Crowley didn’t say more, only another inaudible noise. Aziraphale smiled at that, before he looked at the other scarring on the other shoulder-blade. His lips tightened and he leaned down once more. Pressing his lips softly onto the top of the scarring as he did before. Slowly kissing downwards on the line of the scars. And then, Crowley’s body jerked away from his lips. Aziraphale’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, and he leaned away from him. He was about to ask what was wrong, when he saw a new burn forming between his shoulder-blades. It was a single dot.. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he realized he was crying. And then he realized he had just hurt him.
“Oh—Oh, fuck!”, he exclaimed.
Quickly Aziraphale wiped his own tears away hastily, quivering while doing so. He then bent down and placed a longer kiss onto the burn, lips lingering. Until eventually he had to pull away to see if it healed. “I’m so sorry, Crowley..”, he whispered.
“Blasphemy angel, not like you to curse.”, the demon grunted.
Aziraphale ignored his comment, staring down at the big star-formed freckle between his wings now. He slowly gave a small smile at the sight.
“Crowley… did you know some of my.. kisses that turn to freckles are.. star shaped?”
The serpent turned his head to the angel, eyes suspicious and blown yellow. “What?..”, he croaked.
The angel brought his finger to the big star-freckle, and gently pressed down onto it. “Star-freckles… how cute, dear.”, he smiled softly.
Crowley grumbled then, “ ‘S not cute, don’ call it cute, angel.”
Aziraphale only smiled further in an almost teasing way. “Why ever not? They’re beautiful..”, he whispered before leaning down and softly pressing his lips against the last small trail of scars. Crowley turned his head back around, grumbling while small incoherent noises fell from his lips.
With a small yet soothing touch, Crowley found himself fully relaxing under the press of the angel’s lips. And slowly, he couldn’t help but ask quietly, “What do they look like?”
The angel paused, confused. “What do they look like?”
“The star-freckles..”, he whispered.
There was a quiet pause and Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to describe them. They were beautiful. A hint of marking the demon with his very own symbolism. It was beyond description to put into words on how meaningful this seemed to be to the angel. And the demon even more so..
Aziraphale then smiled, “I can draw them.. for you. I can show you how beautiful they are. How beautiful… you are.”, he whispered almost to himself. Forgetting of all his walls he put up against the demon. To preserve their.. fraternizing from Heaven. To protect him.
Crowley’s eyes had widened, unblinking and unbelieving. To hear the confession of the angel believing him beautiful. It was beyond his comprehension. He’d always been another demon, but he’d always hoped to be more. And perhaps he could be. There was a stretch of silence before he replied, “Would you..?”.
“Of course I would.”, he whispered.
It felt like deja vu, and both the celestial beings smiled to themselves.
The freckles of stars on the demon’s back would forever be a reminder of the past star-maker. The star-maker who the principality fell in love with. The star-maker turned into a serpent, and somehow, the principality still found himself.. slowly and un-admittedly falling in love with. It was all a reminder of how they’d find themselves in any different circumstances and still find an inevitable love for one another.
Throughout the silent bookshop, the angel found himself pressing small kisses over the demon’s other freckles, for no apparent reason. Perhaps it’s to fade the scars more. To comfort the demon. Or perhaps it’s for his own sake. The sake of finding himself starved of kisses. Of kissing. And now that he’s found a way of giving, he won’t stop.. The serpent found no arguments against this. No, in-fact he loved it himself. It made him feel praise worthy, and he’ll soon find out how true that is.
The two celestial beings stayed in the bookshop for more time spent than needed. And neither of them minded. It was inevitably a matter of freckle kisses being formed. And the angel sketched the demon’s beauty as he laid asleep.. They kept telling themselves, It was all a part of the arrangement, of course