Work Text:
i.
This was a stupid idea Crowley thought as she looked up at the sign of the tattoo parlor, alcoholic drink in hand. The sign stood bold and proud with thick letters looping around each other: Ingrid's In-House Ink. Crowley scrunched her nose up at the name.
She sighed, taking one of the hair bands off of her wrist and using it to tie her long, red hair into a low ponytail. She was doing this. She was really doing this. Lord help her.
As she stepped inside, the bell rang out clear and loud. Crowley winced. Her eyes darted to the counter, where an enthusiastic looking man stood. His hair was bright green and he had several facial piercings on his eyebrows, lips and nose. He beamed at her as she waltzed in, trying to conceal the nerves that she felt must be apparent to everyone.
"Hi," Crowley said, pulling discreetly at the ends of the sleeves if her black dress shirt. "Your sign outside says you accept walk-ins."
"We do," the man - Matthew, that's what his name tag said, with his pronouns underneath - said. "We've actually got an appointment free now."
Crowley hesitated. She supposed it was better to get it over and done with before she could change her mind.
"Okay," she said. "I'm ready."
"Great," Matthew said. "You done this before?"
"Yeah," Crowley lied. She did have her snake tattoo but that had come with being a demon. She'd climbed out of the boiling sulphur pit with it; a permanent mark of her new status.
Another laugh in her face from the universe and God Herself.
Crowley was handed over to Ella, a purple haired woman with green eyes that crinkled at the edges when she smiled at Crowley and helped her sit down.
"And what would we like today?" Ella asked, her voice bright. Jeez, was everyone here this perky?
"These words," Crowley said, handing her a piece of paper. "I don't mind the style."
Ella nodded. "Well, I'll do a stencil and you can tell me if you like it, alright?"
It took a couple tries before Crowley was satisfied but, when she was, it was difficult to suppress her smile.
"That's perfect," she said, far too softly.
Ella grinned. "Glad to hear it. Where would you like it?"
"I was thinking on my hip," Crowley said.
Crowley had burned alive in the pits of hell before but she couldn't deny that getting the tattoo hurt. She winced and tried to imagine nicer things like ducks and wine nights at the book shop.
Speaking of Aziraphale, he could never know about this. She knew he would approve of the tattoo. He was very much a 'do what you want with your body' kind of person and had even privately admitted to Crowley that he thought that tattoos were quite beautiful. Something about the story of a person written across their body.
No, the problem was he would like it too much.
His eyes would do that thing where they went impossible soft and fond and he'd say "oh, Crowley" in that devastating tone of voice and nope, nope, nope. He might even call her 'nice'.
The thing was, Crowley's new tattoo was completely and utterly sentimental and the first step towards Aziraphale realising how hopelessly in love with him she was. And she couldn't have that.
Crowley was halfway through paying when she got a notification on her phone. She'd only just managed to start teaching Aziraphale how to send text messages and she was privately delighted that it was him who'd messaged her a gif of an adorable, white cat that reminded Crowley very much of Aziraphale himself.
She couldn't help but smile down at where Aziraphale had written 'should we get a cat?' underneath. As if that was something they did - own cats that is. As if Crowley wouldn't be the one picking up the pieces of Aziraphale's heart after its death. As if that was something they'd inherently do together.
No, she texted back. It would get fur all over your books.
Jolly good point, Aziraphale replied. Where would I be without you, dear?
Discorporated, Crowley almost texted back but the pain of Aziraphale's discorporation and assumed death was still so fresh that she couldn't bring herself to send it. Instead, she sent a winking face and hoped it was in character enough for her that she wouldn't be called out.
She was second guessing everything now. Why did she do this?
"That your partner?" Matthew asked. Crowley blinked. She'd forgotten where she was. She handed him her credit card and smiled wryly.
"How'd you know?" she asked, rather than correct him. It was nice lovely to pretend for a little while.
"You look besotted with them," Matthew said, swiping her card.
"The tattoo's for him, actually," Crowley admitted.
"Well, I hope he likes it," Matthew said, handing her back the credit card and wishing her well.
She left with a sore hip and a small smile on her lips.
ii.
"Angel," Crowley said, tossing his head back over the arm of the sofa and looking upside down at Aziraphale, who was reading a Jane Austen novel at his desk. (Crowley still couldn't believe that Jane had written novels.)
"Yes?" Aziraphale replied, not looking up from his book. It was something dull about two people that were ridiculously in love with each other but never actually talked to each other and so never realised that the other felt the same way. It was irritating, in Crowley's opinion, and entirely unrealistic.
Today, Aziraphale wasn't wearing his coat, which was a rare sight. Crowley had been eyeing the glimpses of skin that flashed when Aziraphale reached up to get a book or a pen rather shamelessly. After all, he didn't know when he'd get to do it again.
"Nothing, I was just bored," Crowley said. He put down his phone from which he was reading an article about cats and their owners looking alike and definitely not picturing a cat that looked like a mix of him and Aziraphale.
Aziraphale sighed. "If you're bored, you don't have to stay here, you know."
"No, no," Crowley said, feigning nonchalance as if the idea of being anywhere else but the bookshop didn't send him into a spiral. "I've got nowhere else to be. Not now that head office has buggered off."
"If I remember correctly, you worked very hard to get them to bugger off."
"We," Crowley corrected. "We worked hard. Give yourself some credit."
Aziraphale set down his book, marking it with a flowery bookmark and turning in his chair to face Crowley.
"You were the one who realised what Agnes meant," Aziraphale said.
"And you were the one who came up with the plan to switch," Crowley countered.
"But you were the... oh, goodness, what are we doing? Let's not argue."
Crowley almost smiled but he managed to turn it into a smirk.
"I'd battle to defend your honour any day, angel."
Aziraphale seemed pleased by that.
"Thank you, Crowley. That's very-"
"Don't say it," Crowley interrupted.
"Nice of you," Aziraphale finished, completely ignoring him. Crowley groaned.
"I'm not nice," he snapped.
Aziraphale stood up, walking over and brushing a hand against Crowley's shoulder.
"You know, you needn't worry," he said. "Hell doesn't care if you're being nice anymore."
"It's- It's not about that," Crowley protested. "It's the principle of the thing! Hm, anyway. Why don't we go for lunch?"
Aziraphale smiled at him, impossibly fond. "Crowley, it's only eleven o'clock."
"Brunch then! You can't say no to brunch! You love brunch."
Aziraphale stared off into the distance for a second and Crowley could only imagine the images of food flashing through his head.
"I do love brunch," Aziraphale agreed after a moment.
"Excellent!" Crowley said, pushing himself up off the sofa and getting Aziraphale's coat off of the rack and holding it out for the angel.
"Thank you," Aziraphale said, taking it and letting Crowley open the front door. The door opened right into the face of a young woman, who recoiled in shock, blood dripping from her nose.
Blasted humans always standing too close to doors.
"Oh my goodness," Aziraphale exclaimed, rushing to help her and leaving Crowley standing awkwardly in the doorway. "There we are, no broken bones."
Crowley felt a miracle and watched as the woman's nose righted itself with a crack. He winced at the noise.
"I'm so sorry, sir," the woman said. "I was only hoping to buy a book."
Crowley snorted and Aziraphale shot him a deadly glare.
"Actually, Crowley and I were just about to go and get lunch," Aziraphale said with a level of glee to his apologetic tone.
"That's too bad," the woman said, taking the tissue Aziraphale offered her and dabbing around her nose. "When are you open?"
"Um," Aziraphale said, looking to Crowley for help.
"Actually, we're closed indefinitely," Crowley interjected. "Aziraphale and I just got married and we're going on honeymoon for a few months. Might end up retiring in the South Downs. Shop's closed whilst we're out."
The questioning expression on Aziraphale's face made Crowley feel like crawling into a very, very deep hole but he'd already began to dig one himself and he couldn't get out of it now so he sent Aziraphale a look that he hoped conveyed a message of 'trust me'.
"Ah, yes," Aziraphale said, a little too eagerly to be believable. "Dreadfully sorry, dear. You know how it is."
"Oh," the woman said, looking disappointed. "Well, enjoy your honeymoon."
"We will," Crowley said with a grin and, fuck, why did he keep digging?
The woman walked off.
"Shall we go then?" Crowley said quickly and, before Aziraphale could even open his mouth, he was in the Bentley.
iii.
Thankfully, Aziraphale ended up saying nothing about what had happened and Crowley let out a sigh of relief. They went to the Ritz and dined as usual, neither one of them bringing it up. Crowley shuddered to imagine what Aziraphale had been thinking about it all.
A few days later, Crowley was in Aziraphale's bookshop, as she usually was, with her feet up on the sofa, sagging into the cushions. She was immeasurably comfortable. The smell of Aziraphale's scones, which he'd bought from the cafe across the road, wafted through the air. Crowley breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell.
She was dressed casually today, or casually for her. Her hair was down to her waist, falling in soft curls, and she was wearing black skinny jeans and a ruffled black shirt. Her sunglasses were perched on top of her head, pushing her hair out of her face.
It was a quiet day. A few customers had come in to browse but none of them came behind the row of bookshelves where Crowley was so she hadn't been disturbed. She'd spent the day resting, eyes closed as she soaked in the sun that streamed through the windows.
She loved lazy days like this. She hadn't had them very often before she and Aziraphale had averted the apocalypse - okay before Adam and some humans averted the apocalypse and they watched and helped out a bit - so she relished them now.
The bell above the bookshop door chimed. It was a pleasant noise but annoying enough to rouse Crowley ever so slightly from her slumber.
"Ah, Lena!" Aziraphale said. Crowley could picture him smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkled and his cheeks rosy in that way that made Crowley want to kiss him.
To be fair, there was no state Aziraphale could be in in which Crowley wouldn't want to kiss him.
"Hello, Mr. Fell," Lena said cheerfully. "I'm here about the book."
That caught Crowley's attention but she didn't do anything until she heard footsteps directly behind her.
"This is Crowley," Aziraphale said. "She's often lazing about somewhere."
"Hello," Lena said. She was a broad woman with curly black hair and a nose ring. Crowley slipped her sunglasses down her face and held up a hand in greeting.
"What was the book again?" Aziraphale asked.
"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," Crowley piped up, having listened to one half of the conversation Aziraphale and Lena had had that morning.
"Ah, yes," Aziraphale said. "I'd lose my head without you, Crowley."
Lena smiled as Aziraphale handed her the book.
"Be very careful with it," he said. "It's a first edition."
"I'll take good care of it, Mr. Fell," Lena promised.
Crowley raised her eyebrows. Aziraphale actually selling a book?
"I trust that you will," Aziraphale said.
Okay, this was definitely odd. Crowley sat up.
"What's going on?" she asked. "Are you okay, angel?"
"Perfectly fine," Aziraphale said. "Off you go, Lena. And do enjoy the book."
Lena nodded and turned to leave.
"Have a lovely anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Fell!" she called over her shoulder.
Crowley's eyebrows raised even higher. Aziraphale looked very sheepish all of a sudden.
"What was that?" Crowley asked.
"Well," Aziraphale said, "I might have gotten us tickets to a Queen concert."
"You what?"
"But all of them were sold out and so I went to find someone who wasn't going to upsell them to me for a ridiculous price and, to help persuade Lena to give me them, I might have told her it was mine and my spouse's anniversary."
Crowley arched her back and got to her feet.
"You lied?" she asked. The 'for me' went unsaid.
Aziraphale shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I... stretched the truth, yes. It is the anniversary of when we met coming up soon."
"You lied!" Crowley said, a grin starting to spread across her face. "Oh, angel, we can't have that can we?"
Aziraphale sniffed. "I'll have you know that I no longer work for or am associated with heaven. I'm allowed to tell a white lie once in a while. Besides, I got you tickets to Queen. I know it's not the original members but I thought you'd be pleased."
Crowley's heart melted just a little.
"I am pleased, angel," she said. "Thank you. That was very nice of you."
Aziraphale hummed, smiling a little and straightening his coat. "I suppose it was, wasn't it?"
iv.
Crowley was having a shit day. There was no other way of putting it. They hadn't done much today, other than get out of bed and already things were terrible.
They'd watered the plants as usual, shouted at them and fed a couple to the meat processer and had a nice drink of wine all before eight o'clock in the morning.
As such, they were a little drunk when they stepped outside straight into the path of a car.
Several hours later, they woke up in hospital with bandages all over them and an aching corporation.
The hospital room was small and their privacy was given to them by thin sheets hung up. The TV was on - something about another crazy politician - and the noises of about three other TVs mixed with it, creating an uncomfortable dissonance.
Crowley turned their neck - which hurt by the way - to the side to see Aziraphale reading a book in a blue chair, his glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Crowley groaned. "What happened?"
Aziraphale jumped and looked up with a wide smile.
"Crowley," he said in a tone that was heartbreakingly soft. "I'm so glad you're awake."
"Where am I?" Crowley asked.
"You're in St. Bartholomew's Hospital," Aziraphale told him. "You were in a car crash."
"Oh not St. Bartholomew," Crowley complained. "He was a prick!"
"Yes, well," Aziraphale said primly, "maybe you should have thought of that before you broke both legs and a rib jumping in front of a moving vehicle."
"I didn't do it deliberately. And that car hit me not the other way around."
"Like the american lady hit you?"
Crowley wanted to roll their eyes but even talking was proving to be painful.
"Can't you just miracle me better?"
Aziraphale looked around as if anyone was listening and lowered his voice to a loud whisper that was still something to be considered normal speaking volume.
"The ambulance got to you first," he said. "I didn't have time to miracle you and it seemed to suspicious to do after the fact. We are trying not to draw attention to ourselves."
Crowley cursed themself for ever suggesting laying low.
"Besides," Aziraphale said, "I didn't know I was your emergency contact."
Crowley desperately wanted to roll their eyes.
"Well, who else would it be?"
Aziraphale frowned. "You put me down as your wife. Do you know how hard it was to convince these people that I was the wife you were talking about?"
"You were a woman when I wrote it," Crowley muttered.
"But why your wife?" Aziraphale asked. "Why not a good friend?"
"You didn't want to be my friend or my wife when I wrote it," Crowley said. "I figured it would be easier. Humans are suckers for love, you know?"
Aziraphale seemed to concede that point. "I shall have to change my records too. It would be odd for me to be your emergency contact and for you not to be mine."
"Odd indeed," Crowley said and that was all they spoke of it.
v.
Crowley didn't mean for it to happen. He supposed it was an inevitable eventuality.
It - being the thing that changed everything - happened on a Sunday afternoon when Crowley and Aziraphale were invited to the launching of a new coffee shop across the street. Neither of them knew the owner but the sign said it was open to all and Aziraphale had looked at Crowley with such wide, excited eyes that he almost couldn't protest.
And when he did protest, Aziraphale glared at him and told him they were going anyway.
Crowley couldn't argue with that.
The night of the launch was filled with people from all up and down the street. Maggie and Mr. Arnold and Mr. Brown and Mrs. Sandwich and all the others were going to the new opening of 'Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death'.
"Funny name for a coffee shop," Crowley remarked as he sauntered across the street, slightly more careful of the cars than he would have been a few months ago.
"It is rather," Aziraphale agreed and then he did something unexpected. He linked his arm with Crowley's. Crowley half expected him to start dancing the gavotte in the middle of the street but Aziraphale acted as if nothing was amiss and carried on walking. So Crowley did too.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fell!"
Lena approached them, waving as she hurried over then stopped short, looking Crowley up and down.
"It's Mister and Mister today," Crowley said with a smirk.
Lena nodded. "My apologies. I do hope you enjoyed the concert."
"We did, thank you very much," Aziraphale said. "I do hope you and your friend weren't too saddened about missing it."
"Girlfriend now, Mr. Fell," Lena corrected. "I asked her out about a month ago. Happiest month of my life."
"Well, congratulations!" Aziraphale said, subtly elbowing Crowley.
"Hmm? I mean, congratulations," Crowley amended. "She's a lucky lass."
"Thank you," Lena said. "And you're both lucky to have each other. It was your love for each other that inspired me to finally ask her out in the first place. You're both just so effortless with each other. Like you don't even need to be in the same room to know the other person's there."
"It's an art," Crowley said, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his hands (one of which was attached to an arm that was still linked with Aziraphale's.)
"I have to go," Lena said. "Bye Mr. and Mr. Fell!"
"Goodbye, Lena," Aziraphale replied. He turned to Crowley. "Well that was pleasant."
"Ngk," Crowley said. "Sure. Want some coffee, angel?"
"Yes please," Aziraphale said. "Three-"
"Sugars and milk, I know," Crowley said. He walked up to the counter, a swagger in his step, and placed his order. The woman at the counter - Nina, her tag read - nodded and started making it.
Just as she was about to hand it over, it slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground with a crash where it shattered.
"Oh, fuck," she muttered, bending down to start sweeping it up.
"I'll help," Crowley said, leaning down. He was about to miracle away the stain on the floor when he heard a noise behind him. He knew that noise. That was Aziraphale's shocked noise.
He righted himself and turned around.
"Angel?" he asked.
Aziraphale moved closer and lifted up the edge of Crowley's shirt, which turned Crowley's face bright red with the connotations, but Aziraphale didn't seem to care. Instead, he was staring with his mouth hanging slightly open at the tattoo on Crowley's hip.
In ink, scrawled across in painfully human handwriting were written the words 'To the World'.
Crowley froze.
"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said and it was even worse than Crowley had imagined. He bolted back to his car, slamming the door shut and speeding off.
+ i
Crowley curled up in his bed. He tried to get as comfortable as possible. After all, this was where he was going to spend the next few centuries. The blankets went up to his chin and the pillow was cold and it was the perfect conditions in which to have a nice kip. But he couldn't sleep.
He let out a loud sigh, turning over from his side and onto his back so he could stare up at the black ceiling. It consumed him like he was drowning in sulphur. His body ached. His chest in particular.
Ugh, this was regret, wasn't it? He'd always hated regret. Stupid feature to put in a demon. Not that Hastur or Ligur felt regret he didn't think. Perhaps it was just him. That would be a right kick in the teeth. The only demon to regret.
There was a knock at the door and a click as it opened.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale called.
Crowley grabbed a pillow and held it over his face.
"Crowley! Where are you?"
Dead. Dying. Anywhere but here. Crowley wanted to sink into his sheets and never be recovered. The footsteps were getting closer.
The bedroom door opened.
"There you are," Aziraphale said. "Oh, do take that pillow off of your head. You look ridiculous."
"Hmph," Crowley said. "Go away."
"What was that?"
Crowley took the pillow off his face. "I said go away!"
He sat up abruptly and was shocked by how close Aziraphale was. The angel was sitting on his bed with a fond smile, hand reaching out to take off Crowley's sunglasses. Crowley let him.
"There you are," Aziraphale said softly, looking him directly in the eyes. "Hello, dearest."
A series of unintelligible noise came out of Crowley's throat.
"Can I see it?" Aziraphale asked.
"What?"
"The tattoo. Can I see it?"
Unable to deny Aziraphale anything, Crowley crawled out from under the covers and lifted up his shirt. Aziraphale's cold fingers ghosted over the letters, sending shivers up Crowley's spine.
"It's beautiful," Aziraphale said. "Do you think I should get a matching one?"
"What?"
"A matching one, darling."
"What... Where is this coming from?" Crowley demanded. His face was flushed and his heart was racing.
Aziraphale hummed and shifted to properly face Crowley, taking his hands in his own.
"Crowley," he said, "did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
"Notice what?"
Aziraphale sighed. "Okay, we can do it like this. Crowley, you're in love with me."
Somewhere in Crowley's mind, a big red panic button was hit.
"Pfft! That's ridiculous! I would never! You... You're my best friend!"
"Crowley," Aziraphale said and that was all it took for Crowley to utterly deflate.
"I knew that," he said weakly, "but you weren't supposed to."
"It was fairly obvious, dear," Aziraphale said and wasn't that fucking humiliating. "I've been waiting for you to do something about it."
Crowley perked up. "You... wanted me to do something about it?"
"Of course!" Aziraphale said. "I've been waiting ever since the apocalypse!"
"But... but you said I go too fast for you!"
"That was decades ago! I figured you'd try again at some point since I'm obviously besotted with you."
"You what?"
"Close your mouth, dear, you'll catch flies."
"You bastard," Crowley said and his mouth was starting to twitch into a smile. "You utter bastard."
"Perhaps," Aziraphale said, raising an eyebrow that made Crowley go weak at the knees. "Now, would you kiss me? I've been waiting an awfully long time."
And kiss him Crowley did.