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Eden
As they huddled together under the canopy of Aziraphale’s wing, Aziraphale looked over at Crawley. He looked like he wanted to say something for a few moments, but Crawley stayed silent and continued to listen to the rain.
“Does it still hurt?” Aziraphale finally asked, voice breaking in what seemed to be anxiety.
“What?”
He fidgeted with his hands nervously. “It’s a new thing: hurt. She’s given it to the humans, so they know when something’s wrong, but I-” he looked down worriedly, “I thought She might have tested it out on you all first.”
He frowned, looking back out into the desert. “Doesn’t still hurt. Can’t see as well as I could, though.”
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Aziraphale fussed, blue eyes filling with emotion.
“‘S alright. Comes with bein’ a snake, I guess.”
“They’re rather pretty, though.”
“Ngk.” Crawley turned his head so Aziraphale couldn’t see his face as it became hot quickly, and resolved to invent something that would hide his eyes so the angel couldn’t make him feel like that again.
2500 BC
After the whole debacle with the angels and convincing them he was a shoemaker and midwife, Crowley found himself rather exhausted. As he left, he knocked his shoulder hard into the doorframe – he hadn’t seen it, what with the snake eyes and sunglasses. Aziraphale made an indignant noise behind him.
“What happened?”
Crowley rubbed his shoulder softly, frowning. “Nothing, just bumped into it.”
“That’s not nothing.”
Crowley let out a chuckle. “It’s a joke! Haven’t you caught up to human’s humour yet?”
Crowley might not be able to see very well, but he could make out the confusion on Aziraphale’s face. “You bumped into it because you can’t see, that’s not funny at all!”
“Oh come on, angel. It’s called slap-” he blanked on anything and glanced at the ground, where he was stepping over a large stick, “slapstick, that’s what it’s called. Like how it’s funny to watch people fall over.”
“That’s not funny!”
Crowley crossed his arms, looking away. “Well it should be funny when it happens to me. Us being enemies, ya know? Angel, demon.”
Aziraphale nodded. “I see!”
He seemed to be realising that he shouldn’t care about Crowley’s well-being, and looked up slightly to make eye contact with him, through the sunglasses. They continued to walk together, until Crowley misstepped and stumbled slightly, but kept walking. Aziraphale’s large blue eyes shone at him for a minute, before his mouth curled into a smile and he let out a small laugh. Crowley held back a grin, nodding.
“I see! It’s funny!”
“Exactly, angel.”
1941
“Little demonic miracle of my own.”
Aziraphale was handed the bag full of his books, and he felt an overwhelming swell of love that was so strong he needn’t hide it or be afraid of it himself. He glanced up to Crowley, who had begun walking out of the bombed church towards his miraculously intact Bentley, but was stumbling and tripping more than he usually did. Aziraphale rushed towards him, frowning.
“Crowley!”
The demon turned, head cocked in confusion. “Yeah?”
Aziraphale laughed softly, shaking his head, and held out his arm. Crowley looked confused, so Aziraphale linked their arms together and helped him to walk back and step over any hazards. He clutched at Aziraphale’s arm as he was led, and Aziraphale realised with a start that he’d never really helped Crowley like this, especially this intimately. They walked back to the Bentley, and Aziraphale only realised after propositioning Crowley (and getting rejected?!) that Crowley couldn’t see very well – and was currently driving as the city they were in was being bombed. He imagined there must be some kind of miracle in place to keep them safe, and attempted to relax.
1967
When Aziraphale watched Crowley struggle to get into the Bentley, he did what was normal for them both, and seemed to make Crowley feel more comfortable. He didn’t like laughing at poor Crowley, but it was a way for the demon to cope. He was trying hard not to be scared by the holy water conversation, but was distracted from that worry by Crowley clearly not being able to tell that the thermos was tartan. He had to stifle his chuckles until Crowley dropped him off.
2012
It was a rather good thing that Aziraphale and Crowley were in such close quarters while taking care of Warlock, as it made it much easier for Aziraphale to clear a safe path for Crowley, especially as a gardener. He’d been caught clearing sticks off the stone path to the back garden by an excited Warlock, trailed by his strict (and remarkably attractive) nanny. Aziraphale – as Brother Francis – stood up quickly, smiling with his buck teeth at the young boy.
“Hello, Warlock!”
“Brother Francis!” The boy ran up to him and gave him a hug, before pulling back and staring at him in confusion.
“Why were you picking up sticks?”
He puffed up his chest. “Well, it’s my job! I don’t want anyone to trip or get hurt.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t. Right, nanny?"
“You never know. No one falls on purpose.”
He looked up at her. “Do you ever trip, nanny?”
She chuckled, looking up at Aziraphale over her sunglasses. “Look at my heels and take a guess. I’d thank Brother Francis for keeping us safe!”
Warlock nodded, looking back at Aziraphale and rushing to pick up the last of the sticks and toss them into the garden. “Thank you, Brother Francis!”
Aziraphale assumed that she had some kind of devious reasoning behind it – maybe it was sinful to listen to a demon, or he would have to tell himself that, at least.
Present Day
Crowley remembered that Aziraphale liked the eccles cakes from across the street, so he bought four, planning on lying and saying he’d gotten a coffee. Until he clocked his head on the doorframe on his way into the shop and stumbled a step backwards. It would have been perfectly fine – he could have miracled away the slight headache that had just begun – if Aziraphale hadn’t been standing right there watching him.
“Oh, Crowley.”
Aziraphale rushed to his side, swiftly discarded the plate of eccles cakes on a table (for a later date) and locked the door behind them as he dragged Crowley in. He helped him onto the couch despite Crowley’s protests and insistence that he was fine, and Aziraphale paid him no mind. The angel sat next to him, and their faces were so close together that Crowley assumed he was about to be kissed. But Aziraphale simply pressed his hand gently to his forehead, and the warmth of an angelic healing miracle washed over him. Crowley sagged into the couch with a sigh, frowning.
“Why didn’t you say it was this bad? You let me- you let me laugh at you for millenia- just like what we did with our feelings!”
“Ngk.”
Aziraphale frowned, sitting back on the couch. “You could have told me. I would have helped you more.”
“You couldn’t have. You were too worried about being watched. We were already too close for Heaven’s standards.”
Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Fine, but now I’m not. I’m going to help you as best I can from now on, but that means you need to be honest with me. And- you know very well that we couldn’t be together like this if She didn’t want it.”
Crowley blinked. “You think She wants us to be together?”
“How else could we be?”
“So all the- hmm- it was- all for nothing?”
Aziraphale grinned at him, cupping his cheek contentedly. “Not for nothing. It just took a bit longer than it should have.”
“A bit?! A BIT-” Crowley was cut off by Aziraphale pulling him into a soft kiss, and he suddenly didn’t mind at all that it took over 6,000 years for it to all happen.
It was all up to Her, after all.