Work Text:
"Oh, my love
I know, I am a cold, cold man
Quite slow to pay you compliments
Or public displayed affections"
~
Crowley paced the pavement.
He had stepped outside his beloved Bentley, parked a few shops down from the bookshop with the full intention to walk right through Aziraphale’s door and whisk him off to share one of their regular coffee dates.
He looked around Whickber Street, watching humans living their lives. Watching through windows as couples shared meals- hands clasped across tables. Watching as they sat on benches together, staring at each other with that mushy gushy look in their eyes and placing pecks upon each others’ cheeks. Watching them walk hand-in-hand down the street, oblivious to the world around them as they pointed and smiled at displays seen through the various shop windows. He watched as one couple ducked into an alleyway to snog, hands running up each other's bodies, smiles on their lips as they pressed into each other. He listened as couples whispered sweet nothings to each other, parting ways with exchanged ‘I love you’s that sounded like promises.
He watched and he listened and he paced, because all he could think about was Aziraphale.
When the dust had settled and it was just them alone in that bookshop, Crowley didn't know what was to come. For so long, he had been the one with freedom- he was free to tempt Aziraphale (it was in his nature, after all). He could beg him to run away to a world of their own and now, here they were on Earth, having gotten just that. It took Nina and Maggie for him to recognize and name what he felt for the angel- love. He'd felt it since The Beginning, but never knew what it was- not truly. Angels and demons didn't feel love- at least not love like this, or at the very least they weren't supposed to, and yet as soon as Nina had named it he had known it to be true. He realised- in that moment- everytime he'd begged Aziraphale to run away with him, he had actually been begging for the angel to love him back. Crowley had, in no such words, been declaring his love for Aziraphale for millenia and had been none the wiser.
It didn't take long before things shifted. The angel, normally so keen to fight his feelings and Crowley’s temptations, began to change. It was slow at first, as he fought his basic instincts, but over time Aziraphale began to realize those instincts- those ideas of what an angel was supposed to be and how they were meant to act- it didn't matter anymore. No one was watching. He was still an angel, he always would be, but his idea of what an angel should be had begun to shift. He had always been good at showing his love- he loved everything after all. Yet as the months ticked on and he and Crowley settled into the life they carved out for themselves, Aziraphale was beginning to share his own feelings of love towards Crowley with him- something he had never done previously.
Crowley however, was changing too. As Aziraphale opened up, Crowley shut down. As Aziraphale moved closer, Crowley moved away- but never for a lack of want. He watched as Aziraphale blossomed; a sense of easy freedom that he now carried with him everywhere. That calm, cool, collectedness that the demon normally carried with him had migrated to Aziraphale. Meanwhile, Aziraphale’s self doubt and his hesitant fear of something more now lived within Crowley.
Their love never faltered, ineffable as it always had been. They had, however, switched roles. Aziraphale became more affectionate, no longer afraid of what he should or shouldn't do. Crowley, for the first real time since racing into that flaming bookshop to try to find Aziraphale, was terrified. Perhaps it was too real now, the reality that it was finally happening. He had a name for the feeling now and it made things infinitely scarier. Perhaps he feared losing it all, of it not being what it was always meant to be.
Crowley didn't understand why the words never came easy to him anymore. Why reaching for his angel was 100 times harder than it had ever been. Why, at the same time, his love for Aziraphale had never been more steadfast.
He thought about how Aziraphale had left everything to stay on earth with him. They offered him a position as Archangel, promised he could fix earth and make real change. Crowley remembered watching with awe as Aziraphale turned them down; the demon had never been prouder. He wanted to stay on earth- Aziraphale had said- with the humans and the bookshop and sushi and alcohol, but mostly he had wanted to stay on earth with Crowley. Aziraphale had told him as much, and it broke Crowley into pieces when he realized the words wouldn't come out of his mouth anymore.
•••
They left with a contract, a promise of no more interference. Earth was free- Aziraphale and Crowley left to stay eternally. It was so quiet after They left, the heated argument that followed after Aziraphale’s rejection of the job offer now a distant memory. The only sounds now were the muffled hustle and bustle of Whickber Street outside and a ticking clock. Crowley watched as Aziraphale looked around, staring at his collection and the bookshop around them with a smile on his face that said: 'Eternity, I get to be here, for eternity.' That smile was nothing though, not compared to the one he had when he locked eyes with Crowley. It was like his whole body was smiling. The demon chose to ignore it; complicated emotions were bubbling to the surface that he didn't know how to convey. His heart had been broken too many times by Aziraphale. 6000 years of “I can't”s and “we couldn't”s, and yet every single time Crowley found himself gluing his heart back together because losing the angel entering was so much worse. The love he had for Aziraphale was never lost nor did it fade each time it was broken, instead it only grew.
“I knew you wouldn't be able to leave these books, angel.” is what Crowley settled on saying. It came out a bit sarcastically, but he also knew it to be true. Aziraphale startled ever so slightly, coming out of whatever thought bubble he’d been trapped in. That bright smile towards Crowley never faltered as he turned to busy himself with fetching wine.
“My dear, as much as I love these books, you and I both know they aren't the reason I turned down that offer. 6000 years of knowing you- I can't imagine a world where you aren't part of it.”
His back was turned to Crowley when he said it, and the words had sounded foreign coming out of his mouth. Crowley wanted to echo Aziraphale, to tell him that an eternity without Aziraphale was one he had no interest in either. He had tried to respond but the words only came out as an emotionless, garbled series of sounds. Something unreadable had washed over the angel's face when he turned around, and his body language shifted to something more tense and withdrawn. Aziraphale had placed the wine down in front of the demon, Crowley moving over on the couch to make space for the angel to take a seat next to him. Instead, he moved back towards his desk, neglecting to take a glass of wine himself. He took a seat and grabbed the first piece of paper he found littered atop the surface, busying himself with reading it as though it was the most interesting piece of literature in history. Crowley watched, cursing himself that - for the first time in millenia- he was unable to verbalize how much his angel meant to him.
•••
Now, Crowley waited down the street, eyes moving between staring longingly at the bookshop and watching the humans around him who made love look so easy.
He sighed.
He found himself thinking of a time Aziraphale had told him he thought too much. In reality, the angel had said Crowley fretted too much, but considering fretting is what mostly occupied his thoughts these days Crowley surmised that that meant he thought too much.
Ever since they'd been left to their shared eternity on earth, Crowley did nothing but fret. It was ironic really, never had there been less of a looming threat. No heaven or hell interfere, no God or Satan with selfish agendas, no Armageddon or world ending war. Just him, Aziraphale, and the 8.3 billion humans they now permanently shared a home with.
It was with Aziraphale, however, that the looming threat came back. He would reach out to Crowley, just as the humans did. Pressing against his side as they walked, reaching for his hand as they sat on their bench in St James Park, always choosing the seat directly next to Crowley’s to read in. Everytime, Crowley would freeze. His mind would short circuit, and then the fretting would begin.
He was angry at himself, his angel had given up everything for this world- he'd given up everything for Crowley- and all the demon could do was sit there trying not to lose his damn mind about it.
He wanted to sweep his angel off his feet, tell him how happy he was for the world they'd carved out together, plant kisses on that gorgeous, smiling face. He just couldn't, and he didn't understand why. He felt it all, felt it all in heaps and crashing waves and exploding stars, and he couldn't forgive himself for not being able to tell that to his angel.
•••
It was one night after an especially alcoholic dinner date when they sat back at the bookshop (as they always did) when Aziraphale turned to him, nerves evident on his face as he placed a hesitant hand on Crowley’s bicep.
“Crowley?”
“Yes, Angel?” He tried not to startle at the warm pressure on his arm.
“I would like to tell you something.” It was odd, the way he spoke. Aziraphale had told him oh so many things over so many millennia. Now, he looked at Crowley, as if asking permission to speak. Crowley wanted to reach out to him- to place a reassuring hand on Aziraphale’s thigh, to tell him that he would always listen to every word that came out of Aziraphale’s mouth (after all, he already had been for 6 millenia, now). He didn't do that, nor say any of that. No, instead he sat still, mustering out a mumbled “well, go on with it then.”
Aziraphale took a deep breath, looking away from Crowley for a moment- he was steadying himself.
“Crowley, I want you to know… That I'm so happy for the life we have here. The world we've made for ourselves. I am so happy I have you, Crowley. I think-” A moment of hesitation, a small shake of the head as he reconsidered his wording. A look of confidence appeared on his face- whatever was coming next, he believed it wholeheartedly, no doubt in his mind “No, that's not right. I know. I know that I love you, Crowley.” He paused for a moment, taking in Crowley’s expression. Glassy, yellow eyes hid behind his sunglasses. The demon willed every part of himself to remain stoic. If he wasn't careful, he was pretty sure he'd float up to the ceiling like a stray balloon. The only thing grounding him: an angel’s warm hand still wrapped around his arm. Aziraphale squeezed, and suddenly that warmth was gone. Crowley watched as his angel’s hand migrated back to his own lap. The world began to spin around Crowley. He was sure his head would be slamming into the ceiling in a few seconds. Aziraphale’s voice sounded distant despite their proximity never changing. “You don't have to say it back, Crowley. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”
Crowley stared at Aziraphale through his dark shades- an object he had never been more thankful for than he was in that moment. He was so full of love but also so, so angry- angry because he wanted nothing more than to pull Aziraphale into a desperate kiss, shake him senselessly and proclaim that “Of fucking course I love you too, angel.” Laughing together as their lips met. He did nothing of the sort, however. Instead, he just watched as Aziraphale turned back to his book. Instead, he said absolutely fucking nothing in response to his angel’s incredibly heartfelt words. Instead, silent tears flowed beneath his glasses- Aziraphale none the wiser as he focused on the words in front of him. A small, sad smile danced on Aziraphale's lips that Crowley had been seeing far too much of lately. He cursed himself mentally- “How did he make it look so easy? How can he feel the same feelings I do, yet when I try to say them aloud they refuse to come out?” It was at that moment- staring at the most incredible being he had ever laid eyes on- that Crowley believed himself to be the most cold, callous demon in history.
•••
Crowley had arrived on Wickber Street at precisely 10 AM to escort Aziraphale across the street to coffee. By the time he stopped pacing and finally began moving towards the bookshop, breakfast time had long since passed. It wasn't till he watched a restaurant owner step outside, carrying a large and cumbersome menu board that advertised their lunch specials that Crowley became cognizant of the hours that had ticked by. With heavy feet he moved towards AZ Fell and Co. as the restaurant owner flipped the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’.
When Crowley finally made it to the entrance, he pushed the door open and walked through the threshold, finding immediate comfort in its familiar ding. He scanned his eyes around the room- looking for the angel among the crowded shelves, and being unsuccessful in finding him. It didn't take long before a familiar voice carried itself from the backroom, the voice growing louder and closer as he spoke.
“One moment, yes I'll be there in just one moment! Feel free to look around, though I must apologize as you see our payment systems are currently down, as it were, so you may be unable to-” Aziraphale emerged, blue eyes focused on fixing the cuff on his sleeve. His tweed waistcoat was absent and those blasted, useless reading glasses were still perched on his nose. He looked up to greet- and thereby after shoo away- his prospective customer, but when he saw it was the demon, a bright smile appeared on his face. “Crowley! I say, I expected you this morning for coffee, but lunch is just as well!” His smile never faltered. Crowley felt like he could melt. He needed to say it. He couldn't have Aziraphale doubt how he felt, not for a second. Words had never been a problem for Crowley previously, and yet now, in a room surrounded by pages and pages of words upon words, he felt as though none of them could explain how he felt. Just as Aziraphale had done many moons ago, declaring a very similar sentiment, Crowley took a deep breath to ground himself before he spoke. It did not have the desired effect.
*Look, Angel, I thought- well, really- I was just outside and I saw these humans- and then there's you, and I was just- I couldn't help but- what I'm trying to say is that, welI- I am- …this world of- fuck, Angel, look, its just that- GAH!” He took off his sunglasses, hand gripping them so tightly he could feel the metal frames beginning to bend but he did not care. His eyes shot closed, a hand coming up to cover them in exasperation. Why the fuck was this so hard? It has never been this hard.
Aziraphale approached him, a hesitant hand reaching out for Crowley’s own. He carefully pried the glasses from Crowley's tight grasp and neatly folded them, delicately placing them in his own shirt’s breast pocket. After doing so, he reached back out- taking Crowley’s now empty hand into his own, the other hand reaching up for the one laid across Crowley’s eyes. Crowley didn't want his hand moved, he knew tears were falling and felt vulnerable with it on full view in front of Aziraphale. Still, he obliged as the angel folded their fingers together, moving the hand back down to Crowley’s side. He did not let go. Aziraphale said nothing about Croeley’s tears- thank fuck, the demon thought- as they continued to fall. The two of them stood there, hand in hand, across from each other, a knowing smile appearing on Aziraphale's lips. That stupid, incredible smile that made everything a billion times harder. He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.
“You don't have to say it aloud, Crowley. I think you'll find I'm already quite well aware.”
More silent tears fell from Crowley’s eyes. How could he be so perfect? Why did he have to continue to be so kind, when I continue to be so unfair to him? he lamented in his mind.
“I want to say it aloud angel, I really do.” He felt so small when he said it, and it was true. Of course, he knew that Aziraphale knew. He was an angel, he felt love all around him and Crowley had no shortage of it, surely he could feel it? Not to mention, Crowley had more than once shared his feelings and desires with Aziraphale in the past. Albeit, he'd never said the exact words, but he'd never failed to show the emotion. Still, Crowley was a demon- he wasn't supposed to be able to feel love. If there was any doubt in the angel's mind- he needed to say the words, to reassure him with 100% certainly that the feeling was reciprocated.
“But you do not have to, my dear.” Damn you Aziraphale, for being the best thing in my life.
“You don't understand, angel, I want to say it. I want to hold your hand-” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, glancing down to their hands still clasped together.
“Not now, well no, yes now but also-” he pulled one hand away from Aziraphale”s, waving it wildly towards the front door of the bookshop “-out there. I want to do it without thinking about it. ” He hesitantly grabbed Aziraphale's hand once more, beginning to trace circles onto the back of it with his thumb. He closed his eyes and silently begged for the tears to stop falling.
“Oh, Crowley.” There was so much love in that voice, so much concern and care. It only made Crowley more upset with himself. He pulled his hands away, moving them to instead rub circles into his own temples as he faced away from Aziraphale. He began to pace once more, just as he'd been doing outside earlier, and chose to put physical distance between them because it was just all too much. The words would be easier to say without having to see his face or feel his tender touch, surely, they had to be. Right?
“Look, Angel, there's no one else y'know? I go back to my flat and it's just me and the plants and I tell them to do better, and I leave here and I tell myself to do better. Then I sit in my flat, alone, and I think about you and this world and feelings and how, how… just…easy this all is for you now.” He felt Aziraphale’s stare burning into the back of his head, but he could not turn around to look back at him, not yet. “I just don't want you to think that I don't feel it too. That I don't want this just as much as you do. I don't know how to say the actual words, I don't know why it's so hard for me now, but It's just you Angel, it's always just been you. It always will be just you.” His voice was so small, and the tears still hadn't ceased. He felt the words come out clumsily, already embarrassed and filled with regret. Then, silence. A silence long enough that Crowley began to turn around, expecting Aziraphale to still be standing across the room from him. Instead, as he turned his body, Aziraphale was right there, placing a hand on both of Crowley's shoulders, steadying him. Crowley refused to meet his eyes, instead staring at his shoulder and the hand now placed atop it. He felt the weight move off his other shoulder, the hand instead moving to gingerly cup his cheek and chin. Aziraphale gently pulled at him, moving Crowley’s face to stare into his own.
Those eyes, Crowley thought, those eyes that make me melt, those beautiful blue eyes that now had tears falling from them. Crowley’s mouth fell slightly agape at the sight, mad at himself for causing his angel to cry. He knew the words hadn't been right. He cursed himself, ready to backtrack, but then a small smile broke out across Aziraphale’s lips. That damn smile. Worse than the eyes, that one is. Like sunshine incarnate. His thumb moved over Crowley's cheek, so incredibly gently wiping away the tears that coated it. Crowley couldn't help it, his eyes lingering on Aziraphale’s mouth- he stared at that smile that made his stomach churn with so much affection and guilt. Before he could register it, those lips grew closer, the hand that was still on his shoulder was now being moved to cup Crowley's other cheek. Then Aziraphale’s lips, moving all too fast and all too slow at the same time, moved to Crowley’s. He stopped millimeters away, his hold slightly loosening on Crowley's face. The demon understood, he was giving him the opportunity to pull away- ever so considerate and ever so loving. Crowley once again cursed himself for ever making his angel think there was any world in which he wouldn't be okay with this.
It took everything to not pull away. Not for a lack of want but rather for a surplus of fear. He stared into Aziraphale's eyes, willing himself to find the courage somewhere in that sea of baby blue. He thought back to that fateful night where Aziraphale had told him he loved him. He thought of all the things he had wanted to say, the things he had wanted to do. A small ragged breath left his lips, his eyes slammed shut, and before he could talk himself out of it, he bridged that gap.
Aziraphale startled, if only for a minuscule of a second (perhaps he had truly believed that Crowley would have ultimately pulled away, and was surprised when he didn't). He relaxed into Crowley quickly thereafter, but did not take the lead- allowing the demon to move at the speed he needed to.
Crowley couldn't help but find his own hands migrating up to Aziraphale's waist, pulling him closer. A dam had broken within him, this is what he had wanted and now that he had it it was oh so good. Aziraphale remained careful and full of trepidation- the culmination of a being so in love and so fearful to not scare him away- but now that Crowley had a taste of this (a taste of him) there was no going back.
They'd kissed so few times up to that point, but this one still felt so different to any ones they had shared previously. It was sweeter, so soft and gentle. It was the first one with a pretense of mutual, acknowledged love. His hands slowly moved from Aziraphale’s waist to the small of his back- fingers catching as he imagined the wings extending from the very spot. Nevertheless his hands continued moving upwards- grasping his shoulder blades, his neck, and finally he mirrored Aziraphale; cupping his face with both hands just as his angel was holding him. They were kissing, so many words being said in a simple action. It wasn't desperate, it wasn't rushed, it was simply them. It felt right, it felt calm. Every kiss they'd shared previously had felt so fraught with intense emotion, desperate even. This one, while also emotional, was so much slower. So careful and precise. I could do this forever Crowley thought, and then it dawned on him that now, with their little carved out world, he indeed could.
Eventually, they naturally separated, Aziraphale moving instead to begin placing equally soft kisses to Crowley’s cheeks and jaw, mumbling between each one.
“How you-” kiss “-would ever think that-” kiss “-I didn't know,” kiss “-that I would ever doubt for even a second-” kiss.
Crowley pulled away slightly, Aziraphale felt it, pulling away himself to look into his eyes. Crowley looked right back- yellow eyes staring deep into blue ones.
It was all too much for the demon, all too good, and yet still too much. Incredible, all he'd ever wanted, and yet painful all the same. So good that it hurt. He had tried to convey all his feelings into their kiss, but couldn't help but chastise himself for not being able to form the actual words.
“You deserve so much more, Angel. I'm so sorry.” His head fell onto Aziraphale’s shoulder as he wept- every emotion he'd felt about the situation over the past months crashing out of him all at once. His angel didn't hesitate though, resting his chin atop Crowley's shaking head and arms coming up to hug the demon.
“My dear, I seldom think there could be anything more than this.” With those words, Crowley felt something in him break all over again. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, placing a firm kiss into Aziraphale’s shoulder and breathing in the smell of parchment and sandalwood and cinnamon. A scent that was so uniquely Aziraphale. A scent that smelled like comfort. A scent that smelled like home.
Aziraphale placed a kiss to the top of his head in response. They stood there, holding each other until the sun was setting and the shop was basked in the golden light from the sunset and street lamps that dimly shone through the windows. Aziraphale’s grip around him was the only thing keeping Crowley from falling apart completely. He wasn't sure when he stopped weeping. It didn't matter, their hold on each other never loosened. Not when Aziraphale waved his hand from behind Crowley’s back- the sound of the shop's front door locking and the blinds closing could faintly be heard in the distance. Not when Aziraphale started to move, gently leading them upstairs to the small study-converted-bedroom “Jim” had once occupied. Every furniture piece and decoration it previously housed, now removed- redecorated and specifically made with Crowley in mind.
•••
“I don't need a room y'know, I do have a flat after all.” Crowley had grumbled. Looking around as Aziraphale proudly showed what he'd done with the space.
“Well yes, of course, I just, well the space was hardly getting used anyways and I thought- should you ever want to stay here overnight… not that you have to…” He trailed off. Crowley could tell he was biting his tongue, leaving words unsaid. Aziraphale continued, though, choosing a new topic to focus on, “I've never much seen the reason for a bed, it's not like we need sleep, but I do know how much you seem to enjoy it, so I thought best to have one, just in case I suppose.” He pointed at the bed. Plush black blankets covered the bed placed on a red cherry wood frame. The wood panel headboard has been decorated with small, engraved stars- all surrounding an intricately carved sun and moon insignia that swirled together like a yin-yang symbol.
Crowley looked around the room, it was clear so much care went into making it specifically with him in mind. It was so… un-Aziraphale the way it had been decorated. Sleek black side tables placed around a metal framed and black leather loveseat, plants were peppered around the room in pots of gray and black. There were no knick knacks, no book shelf- the walls were only decorated with a few framed black and white landscape photographs. His heart panged, recognizing them all as places they'd met over the millenia. Finally, Crowley's eyes drifted to the two matching nightstands on either side of the bed, with their shiny dark wood finish and equally matching lamps. There were differences between the two, Crowley noted. Atop one sat a black pebble leather glasses case. It was empty and open, revealing a deep red velvet interior that was surely waiting for the demon’s sunglasses to be safely stored inside should he choose to use the bed. On the other nightstand sat Aziraphale’s own reading glasses, haphazardly thrown onto a tray, a case nowhere in sight. There was a book too- of course there was a book- its tartan bookmark peaking out of the corner at an angle. Something twisted in Crowley's heart. Something full of love and pain and fear; something he did not wish to face at that moment.
Crowley had not stayed that night, nor any other night thereafter. He continued to return back to his own lonely flat despite his inner desire to always stay- his heart broken that someone could care so much about him. Angry at himself for not being able to tell Aziraphale he would vacate his flat permanently if it meant he'd spend every night in his angel's company for forever.
•••
The room looked the same as Crowley remembered it. There was new bedding though- the swaths of black and gray replaced with deep crimson sheets and a garish tartan duvet. One side- notably Aziraphale's side- was unmistakably crumbled. Crowley ached inside as he thought of Aziraphale sitting on and using the bed that he had made for Crowley rather than himself- reading a book in a room that was so decidedly just not him, hoping one night Crowley would finally decide to stay.
Aziraphale led him to the bed, oblivious to the images flashing through Crowley's head. Then, as though handling the crown jewels, he slowly removed the sunglasses from his shirt pocket and placed them ever so gingerly into the case that still sat open on the nightstand, it shut with a soft clap, both of them slightly jumping at the sudden noise. Crowley watched as the angel’s hand made a flourish towards him. In an instant, he realized the leather jacket and black skinny jeans he'd been wearing were now replaced with joggers and a loose t-shirt. His previous clothes and shoes appeared on a table in the corner of the room, neatly folded into a perfect stack. A blush- try as he might to push it down- crept onto the demon's cheeks. Never had he been treated with such tenderness, and he tried not to think about the fact that the angel had just technically undressed him..
Aziraphale guided him to lay down on the bed, lifting the blanket up and over his body. Part of Crowley wanted to fight it, make a sarcastic comment about how awful the pattern was- but the absolute bliss of pure warmth and comfort overtook the demon. A gentle kiss was placed on Crowley's head- and that was the word wasn't it, Crowley thought. Gentle. Everything about this was so gentle.
Aziraphale moved to the other side of the bed. He hesitated slightly before climbing atop, still in those tweed pants and white button down. The bowtie that matched the duvet was still around his neck. Crowley had half a mind to snap his own fingers, change him into some equally awful patterned pajamas, but he was succumbing to the comfort that currently cocooned him. His hand, just as his eyelids, had never felt heavier
Aziraphale didn't lay down, rather sat up with his back against the headboard, one hand reaching out and grasping Crowley's as the other hand grabbed the book off the nightstand. Crowley felt his eyelids growing heavier by the second, but he couldn't help but stare at his angel between heavy blinks. The way he read his book, the pages magically turning themselves every so often so he wouldn't have to stop holding Crowley. His face illuminated by lamp light only, the now dried tear tracks still slightly visible beneath those unneeded reading glasses he insisted on wearing.
Crowley felt himself drifting off but also found himself giving a final squeeze to Aziraphale's hand, prompting the angel to look away from his book and towards him. He had a content smile on his face. Crowley’s heart swelled.
“I don't know how they do it Angel, all of this, out and about for the whole world to see. Saying those words out loud, easy as can be.” And it was true. The emotion itself was easy- the way he felt about Aziraphale- the love and awe he felt towards him had always felt like second nature even if he didn't have a name for it until much later. Saying it out loud- even when Aziraphale had been so clear lately that it was reciprocated- he wasn't sure how that could ever be easy. He continued, still fighting the sleep from overtaking him. “I don't want to be anywhere else though, Angel. I'm sorry I can't be like them. I'm sorry I can't give you that.”
‘Oh Crowley, you've already given me the world, my dear.” He raised their entwined hands to place a kiss on the back of Crowley’s.
It wasn't long after that Crowley drifted off, content and full of love.
Maybe the words wouldn't come anytime soon. That was okay, because Aziraphale knew what he felt for him. There, lying in a bed next to his love, eternity had never sounded so good.
~
"But baby, don't you go over analyze
No need to theorize
I can put your doubts to rest
You're the only one worth seeing
The only place worth being
The only bed worth sleeping's
the one right next to you."
- (Cold, Cold Man- Saint Motel)