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Over the centuries they met many times, even before the "arrangement". In the beginning because there was nowhere else to be, really, apart from where the few humans alive had set up camp. And then when the humans became more and more and started spreading across the planet it was through coincidence or tragedy.*1
Coincidence because the planet was still only so big, and they both enjoyed the big cities and tragedies because these things called for them.
They met on the side of many nature catastrophes, many plagues, many human-made failures. They met in war zones, the first and the second and many in between, many genocides, explosions, earthquakes and tsunamis. They met in Pompeii, in Germany and where the Titanic should have arrived.
And every time there is this moment. This moment when Aziraphale first sees him, the question in his eyes, the accusation. Is this your fault? Did you do this? and sometimes it's not said aloud and it's enough when Crowley shakes his head. More often though, when they have privacy and can speak openly, Aziraphale will directly confront him and Crowley will desperately try to defend himself without seeming desperate.
It's getting harder each time even though Crowley knows he should be incredibly thankful that Aziraphale believes him at all.*2
The thing is. The thing is this though: Crowley may be a demon, but he does not kill people. It's another thing nobody else he knows understands, either because they're fellow demons and killing is one of the few things they enjoy (along with torture) or because they're an angel and Crowley is a demon and so the natural order of things dedicates otherwise.
You're a demon. That's what you do. It's one of the first things Aziraphale has ever said to him, back than on that wall of Eden's garden. A condemnation and a judgment for all Crowley is and all he'll ever be.
And even when they grew closer, grew to be friends there is always this. This split moment of suspicion from his angel that everything bad in the world is Crowley's fault.
Even — by hell, even when Crowley had come to rescue Aziraphale from Nazi spies and walked through a damned church for it, it had been there: “they're working for you then?”
No matter what and no matter how much Crowley tries when he is around Aziraphale there are always two truths in the fore front of his mind:
1. He is in love with an angel and it's the most hopeless thing, because
2. He is fallen, a demon, unworthy, evil.
In the beginning Crowley had covered his eyes because of the humans. There were only so many times you could bare them trying to burn you on the stake or trying to exorcise you before it became tedious. They had never manged to do him any actual harm, since he was a demon and needed only to snip his fingers to be on the other side of the world. But still. Tedious.
And, on a completely unrelated note: Crowley found it a lot easier to look in the mirror when he didn't have to look into his own eyes.
There were only two places in the whole world where Crowley would willingly take his sunglasses off. The first was his own bedroom, when all the shades were drawn and the room as dark as it could possibly be and the second, of course, was Aziraphale's bookshop.
The first out of necessarity and the second because there was nowhere in the world that Crowley felt more comfortable. *3
It hadn't always been like that, of course. Crowley could remember the time well when he had taken great care to hide his eyes from the angel. They were ... demonic. A clear sign to everyone, but especially to Aziraphale who knew what they meant, that he was damned. Evil.
But then there had been a day like so many before; them dinning together and then going back to Aziraphales' for something to drink, when the Angel had looked at him, eyes intense and had asked him: won't you ever take those glasses off, dear? They had been drunk.
Crowley had taken them off. Aziraphales' smile had been worth the initial discomfort.
And okay, maybe he had been stretching the truth a little bit. He doesn't always feel comfortable without his glasses around Aziraphale *4. Three circumstances had to be meet:
1. They had to be alone. Obviously.
2. They had to be drunk.
3. He had to check to be absolutly certain that Aziraphale was in the right state of mind: drunk enough to let his skepticism about Heaven and the Ineffable Plan come through.
There was still always that little moment of hesitation before he reached up to take them off, no matter how many times Aziraphale smiled at him, all pleased.
He fears the day Aziraphale will recoil from him, the day “you're a demon and I'm an angel” will become something more. The day Aziraphale will look at his snake-like eyes and remember what they mean: the demon that brought about the first sin of humankind, the reason for many a suffering.
The day Aziraphale remembers that Crowley must have fallen for a reason and that Aziraphale is supposed to smite him where he stands.
Crowley doesn't like to think about the reason he fell. Hung around the wrong people, indeed.
In those early days “falling” wasn't something anyone thought possible. Demons hadn't been invented yet. But Lucifer and his closest friends had secretly been hoping for some kind of punishment; not because they liked the thought of it in itself, but because they thought it would give them validation. They would be able to go around Heaven, pointing fingers and say “look what Father has done!”.
Too bad that none of them would ever walk around Heaven ever again.
The creation of humankind had been theme of many hushed conversation among the angels days before the existence of even the dust that would one day be a man named Adam. Most were in reverence, as they should be. Crowleys had been.
But Lucifer and him, while not friends themselves, had certainly had mutual contacts and his word had traveled fast either way.
And back than Lucifer had been charming, convincing. Crowley had listened to his speeches because their mutual friends had begged him to come, and he hadn't wanted to disappoint anyone.*5
“Created in Father's image! What about us? Are we not good enough anymore? Does Father not love us anymore?” and later, bolder, “If he doesn't love us, why do we have to love him? Why not our own paradise without them?”
And Crowley hadn't hated humankind. But Lucifer had been passionate, convincing.
And a second of doubt had been enough.
Falling would be the most painful thing Crowley would ever feel. Not because his wings and his soul had been alight in hellfire but because he could feel God's blessing and love burn away, too.
The thing is: Crowley knows that Aziraphale is different from the other Angels. His love for humans sets him as apart from the other Angels as it sets Crowley apart from the other Demons.
Also, telling was the fact that there had never even been a serious threat of smiting in all the 6,000 years they've known each other.
He likes Aziraphale. As a friend, as something more. Aziraphale might like him, as a friend, unlikely as something more.
Most days Crowley is content with that. The days he's not he mostly avoids Aziraphale so the angel won't notice.
He's glad they're friends even if they both can't say the word on most days. But there's only so many lunches and diners you can have under the pretense of an “arrangement” before it becomes ridiculous. Just because they don't name it for what it is, doesn't make it any less true.
So maybe Aziraphale is an angel and Crowley is a demon. And maybe they’re supposed to hate each other, are expected to hate each other. Maybe Aziraphale sometimes doubts Crowleys intentions in the middle of a crises and maybe Crowley doubts Aziraphale's intentions in the quieter moments.
Doesn't mean that there won't be a day, a few weeks after the Apocolypse-that-wasn't where Aziraphale will finally have enough. Because that day will come and it will go like this:
They're will be alone in the backroom of the bookshop, wine bottle open. They're not drunk, Crowley has his glasses over his eyes.
And Aziraphale will reach over, no hesitation, and pluck the sunglasses right off Crowleys nose. “No need to hide your beautiful eyes, my dear.”, he'll say and “We're on our own side now, remember?”