Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What's with the running gear, angel?”

It was a sunny Saturday morning in the cottage. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley from his armchair, eyebrows raised. Crowley carelessly looped one leg over the other, affecting nonchalance.

Aziraphale knew better.

“It's something to do around here,” Aziraphale shrugged, also feigning nonchalance.

Crowley's head snapped up.

“I'm not buying that, Aziraphale. You've never shown an interest in exercise. Hell, you get tired at the top of the stairs whenever we visit the bookshop!”

Aziraphale sighed. “I know,” he said. “I've always been hopeless at exercise. So, I thought it was time for things to change.”

This set alarm bells ringing in Crowley's head. “Time for things to change? What do you mean?”

“I've never been physically fit.”

“So?” Crowley asked, his eyes wide, snake-like. “You're an angel. Ineffable. You don't need exercise.”

“But I'd rather like to,” Aziraphale responded, bottom lip quivering, his book abandoned.

“Where's this come from?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale played with his collar, laughing nervously. “I don't know what you mean “

“Oh, come off it! This isn't like you, angel.”

“You mean I'm a lazy slob?”

“No! I mean you're not one of those fitness freaks!”

This caused Aziraphale to smile tremulously. “I know. But, just look at me.”

Crowley eyed him up. “I'm looking. And I'm seeing you, angel. Not some athlete.”

“I see a useless, soft slob. Rather too chubby,” Aziraphale said, sadness tinging his voice.

Crowley crossed the room in seconds. “Hey. You're not useless. Softness is strength in an existence so fucked-up,” Crowley said, his own voice soft. “You're perfect as you are.”

Tears spilled down Aziraphale's cheeks. “Really? You want me like this?”

“Oh, angel. Of course I do. I wouldn't want you any other way.”

Crowley held him for the rest of the morning.