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Sometimes Aziraphale could feel it- like a hardened pit in his chest, empty and sharp. If he thought too much about it, he could almost imagine cutting himself on its jagged edges. The silence. The tension. He hated that damned hesitancy that existed in the space between himself and Crowley. He wanted so desperately to reach out and close that gap- to fall seamlessly into the love he knew he had for the demon and simply exist. Every time he found himself bold enough to want to reach out, he was reminded of just how much he stood to lose if he did.
They had finally done it. They had stopped the End of World again. They had moved into the cottage with miraculous ease. Aziraphale suspected some demonic power went into the speed at which the cottage was purchased. When he had implied as such, Crowley simply responded with a slightly prideful mumble. “The housing market was one of mine, ya know?”
Despite being assured they would be left alone, Aziraphale could not rest. Crowley had called him a guard dog in passing- a silly little jest that flowed from his lips as he had passed by Aziraphale’s stonestill form. He was beginning to think the demon wasn’t entirely incorrect.
The sun had long since fallen down over the horizon as he perched on his windowed reading nook, book in hand. He wasn’t at all focused on the novel. If pressed, he wasn’t even certain what book he had selected. Instead, he watched, as if under a spell or compelled by some greater being. (Lord, forgive him for the implication).
It was silent, like it so often was in the cottage. Aziraphale could practically hear his heart beating in his ears. Logically, he knew there was nothing prowling around the parameter. Nothing demonic nor angelic could cross the boundary without he or Crowley’s explicit consent. That fact did not ease the anxiety settled deep in the pit of his stomach, did not calm the baser instincts of his ranking. How could he possibly rest when there was so much to lose? How could he protect the fragile existence they had carved out for themselves if he was not alert? The hilt of his flaming sword dug into his thigh, the discomfort grounding him.
Aziraphale knew how he was perceived by humans, demons and angels alike. Humans perceived him as non-threatening, a generally comforting presence despite his fussiness. Demons found him to be unnerving, too ethereal for them, too human for the angels. And the other angels… well the other angels thought him soft. They assumed he had spent too much time on Earth. A Principality who had forgotten his training. Aziraphale was all and none of these things. He was soft and fussy and too angelic and too human. He enjoyed his indulgences- savored the complexity of human cuisine, coveted the flaws and quirks of literature. Aziraphale did not forget his training. At his core, he was created to guard and protect and fight. It had been quite some time since he had had something so firmly in his grasp worth protecting and even then, he held it at a distance.
A creak of the floorboard pulled him from his watch. On instinct, he brandished his sword, pointing it at the invisible threat looming in the dark.
”It’s just me, angel.”
Embarrassment heated Aziraphale’s face as he fumbled to sheath the weapon before fiddling nervously with his ring.
”My apologies, dear.”
Crowley stepped closer, an odd look on the demon’s face- something akin to the discomfort of watching someone do something maddening but not having the heart to tell them. Aziraphale closed his eyes, willing away the pang of longing.
”I thought you were sleeping,” Aziraphale commented after the silence went on a moment too long. He turned back to look at the window.
Crowley clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Nah. Couldn’t get comfortable enough for it.”
The angel wasn’t sure if that was a small fib or not, but decided against calling the demon out, in case he was being truthful.
Aziraphale heard him step closer- could imagine the hesitant look in his beautiful golden eyes.
“What are we looking for?” Crowley asked, his voice low and gentle as if humoring a particularly imaginative child.
Aziraphale sucked in a shaky breath, his skin prickling as if sensing danger. “I don’t know.”
Crowley had always been so much braver than Aziraphale when it mattered. The angel had recognized that over and over throughout their existence. Every single time Crowley had offered to show him something new or take him away from Earth- away from Heaven- he knew bravery. He could see it in the gentle moments and desperate speeches. Aziraphale was not brave. He was a coward- a fiercely protective coward but a coward nonetheless. So when Crowley had mentioned the cottage, Aziraphale had secretly hoped the demon would finally come out and say the words they had both known to be true for quite some time. But he didn’t. Crowley became more hesitant than Aziraphale had ever seen him and Aziraphale, well, he wasn’t exactly known for making the first move. So they existed in a tentative silence. Lord, Aziraphale hated it.
”Well, d’ya want some company? Since I’m not sleeping anyway. Could get us something to drink and nibble on.”
Aziraphale clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. He so enjoyed Crowley’s company but it wasn’t safe for him here. The need to protect dug the hole in his stomach into a pit.
A faint touch to his shoulder startled him. He finally turned to look at Crowley. Without his glasses, the demon’s eyes showed the intricate worry he was experiencing and underlying all of it was fear. Aziraphale knew what it was the fear of- rejection.
“Yes!” Aziraphale exclaimed, far too loudly in the quiet space between them. “Nibbles!” A rather unconvincing laugh fell from his lips and he had the displeasure of watching Crowley’s face crumple.
He watched Crowley rebuild his armour in the blink of an eye. “Right. I’ll go see what we’ve got.”
Aziraphale listened to the sounds of the demon’s feet as he retreated to the safety of the kitchen, away from the tense moment that had been created. The angel felt the desperate tug in his gut.
Indecision had always been his undoing. They had so much to talk about but they never talked. They spoke, surely, about a great many things- Aziraphale’s dismay about the emerging popularity of “E-Books”, Crowley’s dislike for groups of tourists in the streets on his drives, their love of humanity’s growth. But Aziraphale’s fear of saying or doing the wrong thing- the thing that would make him lose Crowley- had kept them at a distance. He knew the demon had some sort of left over ire towards his decision to leave for Heaven but he knew not why. He knew there were so many things left unsaid. He was just not brave enough to say it.
“Brought some tea and some nibbles.” Crowley settled himself in the space across from Aziraphale. Neither of them looked at the other, instead staring out into the darkness of their front lawn.
”Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale absently sipped the cup of tea, allowing the warmth to fill in the spaces his fear had left behind.
Another painful silence descended upon them.
“The stars are beautiful tonight.”
Crowley made a noise that sounded like someone had squeezed his ribs too tightly. “Is this what we’re doing then?” His voice was tight and slightly exasperated.
This was Aziraphale’s moment to be brave. He looked out at the darkness and felt his hackles raise, akin to a cornered animal. If he allowed himself this indulgence- allowed to admit what they feel- it would be real and it would put them in danger. He could not protect Crowley with a larger target on their backs.
“What do you mean by ‘this’?” he asked, playing dumb, eyes glued to the window.
In the past, when they had conversations like this, Crowley’s frustration forced his retreat. Retreat meant safety. Instead, he heard the demon sigh- a defeated, broken thing- accompanied by the slight thud of his head against the wall. Aziraphale felt sick.
“Angel, I-“ Crowley swallowed thickly, his voice rough. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”
The admission hung heavy in the air.
“This?” he questioned, his ears ringing.
”I just mean-“ A sigh. “You made yourself clear before you left. I know the cottage was my idea so if you truly can’t do this, I can leave.”
Aziraphale’s head snapped so fast to look at Crowley, he feared, momentarily, he had given himself whiplash. The demon looked bereft, his beautiful amber eyes swimming with unshed tears. His face had twisted into a grimace tainted by self loathing resignation like he had already heard Aziraphale’s answer and could barely contain his sadness.
”Leave? But why would you do such a thing?” The angel was adrift. They had finally found one another. Is this truly what Crowley desired?
Crowley had once admonished him for being so clever and so stupid at the same time and that sentiment was reiterated in his sigh. The demon finally turned to look at him.
“Isn’t it what I always do?” His voice was bitter and exhausted and Aziraphale could not stand it.
The angel swallowed the lump in his throat. He sucked in an uneasy breath. “Never for too long. You always come back when I need you.”
His choice of words had sparked an unpleasant memory for both of them.
But- but I need you.
Right before the kiss that neither of them had the courage to bring up. Right before he left.
Something complicated passed over Crowley’s face and Aziraphale watched as the demon’s eyes skittered nervously across his own features. Oh. He could see it now, clear as day.
“I don’t want you to leave, Crowley.”
The demon’s eyes fell closed and he let out an audible breath of relief. He nodded a few too many times before looking at Aziraphale once more.
”What are we looking for then?” he repeated.
Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he felt relief or dread for the change in topic. But there was the use of we again and he both loathed and loved the idea that they were in this together- their own side.
”Danger.”
Crowley hummed. “I had noticed your sword.”
”Quite.”
”Why are we looking for danger?”
Aziraphale’s brain quickly ticked through all of the possible responses to that question and there were so many, some far more truthful than others.
“So we can continue being safe.” That was close enough to the truth.
Crowley looked at him again, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “We are safe, angel.”
Oh how Aziraphale wished that to be true. The way Crowley spoke it- so sure of himself- made him want to believe it too. Something deep inside him recoiled at the thought. His face must have betrayed his thinking because Crowley took the long forgotten tea from Aziraphale’s hand and set it aside. The demon slowly took hold of his now empty hand and intertwined their fingers. The action made heat rise to his cheeks. It reminded him of the moment they had shared on the bus from Tadfield. That had seemed like an eternity ago.
”No one is out to get us. We practically have Her blessing to be left in peace as much as that pains me to say.”
Aziraphale closed his eyes, feeling desperate tears burn at his throat. “What if that isn’t good enough?”
Crowley snorted, attempting to lighten the mood. “Blasphemy, angel? That’s unlike you.”
It was too much- too familiar. The fear ate away at Aziraphale and he yanked his hand away. “You don’t understand, Crowley!” he cried, rising from his seat to put more distance between them.
Hurt flashed across Crowley’s features before being replaced with something more guarded. “Then help me understand, angel. Because right now, I’m at a loss. You say you want me to stay. I can do that but we don’t see one another. If you want us to co-exist and not interact, then that’s… fine. Just tell me what you want me to do because I don’t know what you’re thinking here.”
Oh dear. He was going about this terribly. He realized it now. All he was managing to do was push Crowley further and further away from him. Just like he always had. He could see that desperately earnest look in Crowley’s eyes, the one that was ever present when Aziraphale had pushed just a bit too hard. As terrified as he was, he collected the pieces of bravery within himself. He sighed.
”I haven’t the faintest where to begin.” He fiddled with his ring, smoothed invisible wrinkles on his waistcoat.
”Start with why you’ve been glued to the window like a soldier at their post.”
Aziraphale looked down at his feet, nerves alight. “I believe I am struggling with the instinct to protect.”
”Protect the property? Angel, I promise you the wards will hold. We check them often enough. Even Anathema and Adam have confirmed, they’re strong.”
Aziraphale sent Crowley a meaningful look and hoped- Lord, even prayed- he might understand.
The demon flushed so deeply it matched the vibrancy of his hair. “Oh.”
”Yes, quite.”
There they went again, speaking without actually talking.
Crowley cleared his throat. “I didn’t know Principalities were so territorial,” he joked weakly.
”They’re not.”
”Oh.”
Silence. Aziraphale was sick of the blasted silence. But Crowley had always been so much braver than him
”Then why-“ He cut himself off, gesturing vaguely in the space between them. “Why have you been so distant? Lot easier to protect something if it’s close.”
Aziraphale realized very suddenly that they were not having the same conversation. He recognized that Crowley believed himself to be similar to Aziraphale’s bookshop rather than the object of his desires. He looked heavenward as if to summon courage or wait for some divine intervention.
”I think I have gone about this very wrong,” he muttered, returning back to his seat in the window, closer to Crowley. He snapped his fingers, miracling a small lamp on, nearest to them.
In the dim light, he could see so much more of Crowley- his rich auburn curls cascading to his shoulders, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, the slight expanse of his serpentine pupils. Aziraphale had seen many beautiful things in his existence. None of them compared to the sight of Crowley, slightly sleep mused, in his black silk sleep clothes.
He cheated slightly then, allowing himself the indulgence of using his angelic powers to seek out Crowley’s love. It had taken him until very recently to realize that was what he had been feeling since practically the moment they met. Crowley’s love felt like coming home- like late night talks over too much wine, like phone calls about nothing in particular, like saving the world time and time again. It gave him the courage he needed to speak.
“Do you remember 1941?”
Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’d be hard pressed to forget a quite frankly insane series of events that night, even by our standards.”
Aziraphale pondered this. It had been an incredibly odd collection of moments- all of them overshadowed by the moment.
“Well, yes. I suppose that is true,” he began. “But I mean one moment in particular. After the bombs.”
Crowley tilted his head. The confusion had not left his face. “Before or after the magic show?”
”Before.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he hoped Crowley remembered the moment as he had or if it had simply been another moment among thousands of the demon wearing his heart on his sleeve.
Crowley looked slightly desperate. That earnestness had returned to his eyes. Just tell me what you want me to do.
“I don’t think I understand, angel.”
”When you saved my books.” His voice was barely above a whisper as if the volume might alert prying eyes of the truthfulness of his words. Aziraphale could see the argument on Crowley’s lips, the need to ask exactly how this related to needing to protect. Mercifully, he said nothing. “I realized something then. Well I suppose I had known it for quite some time but it felt rather like I had been slapped upside the head with the evidence.” He let out a self deprecating laugh, a mockery of his own foolishness.
Crowley struggled to keep up. “That I cared about your books?” he asked slowly, unsure of even his own words.
”That you knew I cared enough about them to save them while in the midst of our potential destruction. That you cared about the things I care about simply because I care about them.”
Crowley scoffed and looked away, his aloof mask falling into place to assist in his plausible deniability. “Psh, nah. Just knew you’d complain to me for the next century if they’d been destroyed.”
Aziraphale hummed, a noise that neither confirmed nor denied Crowley’s words- if only to ensure the demon would not run away from the conversation. He had a habit of doing so if he felt too seen.
“It wasn’t just that though. My realizations were numbered that night, I think.” His heart beat heavily in his chest and his hands shook. He drew in a fortifying breath. “I believe, in that moment, I realized I had been rather in love with you for quite some time.”
The noise Crowley let out was a mix between a gasp and a choke. “‘M sorry. What?”
Despite his relief of the words he had kept so close to his heart finally spoken, Aziraphale felt the familiar zip of terror. Almost instinctually, he looked around, waiting for some occult or ethereal being to appear in his line of sight. There was nothing. He turned his attention to Crowley, who seemed to be struggling to process this new piece of information. The demon’s eyes were squeezed shut- his face pinched as if the words had been painful to hear.
Something in Aziraphale broke then. Crowley didn’t believe him, not truly. He supposed that made sense. He had spent centuries holding him at arms length.
”You’re an angel,” Crowley whispered, rough and fragile. “You love everything.”
Aziraphale snorted, a rather unangelic noise. “I certainly do not.” He watched Crowley’s beautiful eyes reappear and smiled. “And furthermore, seeing as I am a being of love, I know the difference between loving something in an angelic sense and romantic love.” He lifted an eyebrow haughtily to emphasize his point.
”How long?” Crowley whispered this with the severity of someone who had just been told they had a terminal illness rather than finding out their love was reciprocated.
Aziraphale hummed. “Oh. I can’t say for certain. I believe I started noticing something different in Rome but I didn’t allow myself to look further into it.”
Crowley sat up suddenly to face Aziraphale, features clouded with urgency. “Rome?!” he squawked.
The angel sent him a placating, slightly embarrassed smile. “Yes, dearest. I believe some apologies are in order on my part.” He sighed. “I have spent a very long time pretending. I think I’m rather sick of it.”
”You- but- we-“ A range of emotions flickered in Crowley’s wonderfully expressive eyes before settling on hurt. “But you left.”
Ah. Yes. Aziraphale had known this conversation might lead them here. The smile slipped from his face.
”I didn’t have a choice.”
”There’s always a choice.” The words weren’t an accusation, just an observation.
Aziraphale shook his head. “Not when it comes to protecting you, protecting Earth.” He reached his hand out, once again intertwining their fingers and squeezed gently. “The Metatron may have believed I thought his offer was an altruistic one- a voluntary one. But I couldn’t risk the alternative if I said no. I did want to fix things. I, perhaps stupidly, still had faith that I- that we- could fix things.”
He watched as Crowley’s eyes swam with unshed tears, so similar to that fateful day.
“Leaving was the hardest thing I have ever done. It was the only way I knew to keep you safe, to make certain they would leave you alone.”
The emotion welled up in Aziraphale’s own throat. There they sat, a couple of millennia old beings, sniffling over the overwhelming sacrifices they had made over the course of their existence for the sake of one another.
”Then why-“ Crowley wiped a tear away and fussed with a strand of his hair. “Why keep me at arms length here if you’re- if you… feel the way you do?”
”If I love you?” Aziraphale filled in, feeling the need to reinforce the words now that they were out in the open. He sighed. “I thought it would be safer. This love has always been dangerous, for many reasons, and now that I have you, I feared losing you permanently.”
Crowley’s shoulders shot to his ears, tugging Aziraphale’s hand slightly because both refused to let go. “Because I’m a demon?”
The angel tilted his head slightly, pondering. “In some ways. It was dangerous, us being on opposite sides. There was a lot for us to lose with both sides watching closely.”
Something about his words eased Crowley’s posture. The demon nodded, a few too many times- the way he so often did when he was encouraging himself to speak up.
”I do too. You know?” Crowley whispered. “Love you too, I mean.”
The smile that spread across Aziraphale’s face was so bright it hurt his cheeks. “Oh, darling,” he began. “I know you do.”
Crowley sent him a smile in return- a soft, in love thing. “That obvious, huh?”
He chuckled, running his thumb gently along the knuckles of the hand clutched in his. “Not to me. Not for a very long time. But I suppose, in hindsight, there is nothing else it could have been.”
A blush colored Crowley’s cheeks, his eyes falling closed momentarily. He seemed to be luxuriating in the touch. Something ineffable flared in Aziraphale’s chest. It was so rare to see Crowley at ease around touch. It was nice to see the demon allow himself to indulge- something he so rarely did.
“Since the beginning, I think,” Crowley breathed, eyes opening again to look at Aziraphale.
The angel’s foolish heart beat faster at that. He had speculated as much- had hoped and loathed it to be true.
“Truly?” Aziraphale asked unnecessarily.
Crowley let out a noise which Aziraphale knew to be a self deprecating snort. “Angel.” The nickname fell from his lips like prayer. “My heart has been yours since the moment you sheltered me under your wing.” His voice became smaller then. “No one had shown me that kind of, ya know, kindness, in a long time.” Kindness was spoken like a swear.
Aziraphale’s chest swirled with overwhelming love and a deep sense of pain for Crowley. He had been so anxious that day.
There was a sense of familiarity upon seeing the demon at first- something that niggled at the back of Aziraphale’s consciousness. The red hair was so distinct, as was the facial structure. It took until the first raindrop for Aziraphale to truly remember. The demon, Crawly, in front of him had been the angel who pulled him aside so long ago. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. Crawly likely didn’t remember any of that but Aziraphale did. He would never forget his first time seeing true reverence not directed at the Almighty.
Crawly let out a displeased noise, yellow eyes looking toward the sky. The raindrops fell on his sharp cheekbones. He’s beautiful, Aziraphale thought and immediately rejected the notion. Of course he’s beautiful. He’s the tempter.
“Never ssseen this before,” Crawly hissed.
”Rain?” Aziraphale asked, keeping his eyes glued on the horizon.
Crawly made a noise of assent. “No weather in Hell.” He shivered. “I don’t think I like it.”
Aziraphale wasn’t sure what came over him. Perhaps it was the memory of the angel Crawly once was sheltering him but he raised his own wing up to protect the demon from the rain.
Crawly looked over at him, eyes shining with an emotion Aziraphale couldn’t place at the time- something vulnerable. His mouth was slightly agape, chest rising and falling quicker than normal. If Aziraphale hadn’t been watching, he would’ve missed the near silent ‘thanks’ that fell from the demon’s lips. It would have been lost on the wind. He said nothing in return, only nodding, before returning his gaze to the horizon.
He feared this was more of the wrong thing to do than giving away his sword.
Aziraphale breathed deeply as the memory washed over him. “You’ve only ever deserved kindness, Crowley.”
Crowley hummed, a noise that neither confirmed nor denied the statement.
“My dear…”
Crowley’s eyes were wide and vulnerable- the white of his eyes almost completely taken over by the yellow serpentine nature of him. Aziraphale watched the demon’s gaze dance around his own face.
“Yes?” The question was barely above a whisper.
Aziraphale summoned all of the courage he could manage. “May I kiss you?”
Crowley’s breath hitched in his throat. “Please,” he replied, a near whimper of a thing.
Aziraphale released their intertwined fingers and reached his hand forward to cup Crowley’s face. His fingers tangled in the hair at the base of the demon’s neck. He let his thumb slide reverently over the smooth skin of his beloved’s sharp cheekbones. He leaned forward, close enough that he could feel Crowley’s warm breath on his face. He let his eyes flutter close as he pressed their lips together. It was barely there thing, a light brush.
Oh.
Aziraphale had kissed plenty of humans in his long existence but it had never felt like this. It had never felt so right. The kiss, however chaste, may have lasted a minute or a century. The world could have ended around them and Aziraphale wouldn’t have noticed. All he could feel is Crowley’s fingers clenching and unclenching in his curls and the demon’s surprisingly plush lips against his own.
Aziraphale pulled back to see Crowley’s face. An indulgence he had to allow himself in the moment. Crowley chased his lips just after their parting. His face was flushed, lips slightly swollen, his fire curls in slight disarray. God, how he loved him.
”Oh,” Crowley breathed.
When his eyes fluttered back open, a tinge of anxiety marred his face. He didn’t speak. Aziraphale tried not to bristle, wanting desperately to soothe the thoughts that took Crowley from this moment.
”What is it, my dear?”
Crowley swallowed thickly, leg bouncing, detangling his long arms from Aziraphale. The angel watched as Crowley opened his mouth, closed it, looked away.
“It’s nothing.”
Aziraphale clicked his tongue against his teeth. Crowley didn’t lie to him. But this certainly was a lie of omission.
”Darling…”
”I just-“ He sighed and ran a hand through his mused hair. His eyes grew sad. “Why did you ask me to become an angel?”
And there in the silence, Aziraphale heard the sound of his heart breaking. Crowley’s voice was low and desperate and above all else, hurt.
Aziraphale regretted a lot of things in his long existence but the thing he regretted the most was asking Crowley to become an angel when he was offered Supreme Archangel. At the time, it had been a good idea, a way to keep Crowley close. If Aziraphale was being honest, it would’ve made their love a lot easier and safer. But seeing the way Crowley reacted and the time spent apart made Aziraphale realize how horrific of a suggestion it was.
He closed his eyes, hoping that if he couldn’t see the damage he had inflicted that it would just disappear. It didn’t.
“I could stretch the truth and tell you I wanted to keep you close. That was true to a certain extent. Selfishly, I felt I could’ve kept you safe by my side. But the truth of it is, it would’ve been safer for our love.”
Shame burned at his cheeks. It felt vile to admit out loud. The idea that, after all that time, Heaven and Hell still managed to drive a wedge between them.
”I see,” Crowley said slowly. For the first time, his face was truly unreadable. “It makes sense.”
”I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, shame curling in his chest. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”
Crowley stared at him for a moment. “Do you want me to be an angel? If- if it were possible?”
Aziraphale reared back as if he had been slapped, a full body recoil. “Absolutely not,” he replied fiercely. “Unless it was something you wanted but I am under the impression that is not the case.”
Crowley looked small, shoulders hunched, legs tucked to his chest. He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. Aziraphale couldn’t begin to decipher why this in particular had caused such a reaction out of Crowley. The demon truly despised the notion of being an angel- he had made that very clear time and time again. So, why, now, was there doubt? Aziraphale hadn’t the faintest idea.
He had spent a great deal of his existence trying to be a good angel. That so often was at odds with his relationship with Crowley, with his Earthly indulgences, with his doubt he tried desperately to push away. Crowley had always seen the truth of it all. In his mind, if Aziraphale was no longer an angel, then he was nothing at all. When it was all said and done, Aziraphale realized he was too blinded by his fear of damnation to truly understand that Heaven wasn’t good or divine or holier than thou.
“Sometimes, if I truly think about it, I believe I should’ve Fallen a long time ago.”
A hiss that bordered on a growl flew from Crowley’s lips. “Don’t say that, angel. You’re better than all of Heaven combined. You’re good.”
Aziraphale hummed. “As are you, my dear.” He watched the scowl slip onto the demon’s face and a smile tugged at his lips. “I just mean, in the sense that I was not a particularly good Angel. And I do believe that being good and being a good Angel are very different concepts. I see that now.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “When I asked you to become an angel again, I suppose I was still trying to be a good angel rather than just good. I believed you would understand the importance of fixing the system for Her over anything else. At the time, I couldn’t fathom you not wanting the same. Being an angel was the ideal. I wasn’t truly able to recognize how much of you might be lost in the process. Because- because at the end of the day, Crowley, I am horribly selfish.”
Crowley let out another scoff. “You aren’t selfish, angel.” Aziraphale opened his mouth to interrupt but Crowley held up a hand, unwinding himself. “You believed what you were doing was the right thing to do and you wanted me by your side. I think it was truly the first time you weren’t pushing me away and that was the only way you knew how to keep me by your side safely. That wasn’t selfish. Perhaps a bit naive but you were trying to protect me and Earth and fix all of it. I just couldn’t accept. Not after everything.”
“You are far too forgiving, my dear.”
Crowley shrugged. “Nothing to forgive, angel.”
Aziraphale felt the beginnings of a frown tug at his mouth and quickly settled on a soft smile. Crowley always forgave him far too easily. He never understood it. It was something to address in the future, but not tonight. Tonight would be theirs to enjoy.
“I love you,” Aziraphale said, as easily as breathing.
Something akin to shock flickered across Crowley’s features like he was hearing it for the first time. “I love you too, angel.”
For the first time in a long time, the silence was comfortable.
“Perhaps we should go sit elsewhere,” Aziraphale offered. “I think I can stand to take a break from my watch.”
Crowley smiled, rare and radiant. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I believe we’re safe now.”