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Crowley aches. She doesn’t want to feel it, but it’s there, festering in her heart.
“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, her two hands grasping her angel-themed mug tightly.
“Ngk, nyeah, it’s whatever.” Crowley slurs, half-drunk from all the alcohol her Angel had indulged her in. Crowley took another gulp of wine. Damn that beautiful Angel. Crowley could barely breathe in her presence. If that cherub were ever to Fall, Crowley thought, she would be an amazing temptress.
“..Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” The angel asked again, setting her beloved cocoa aside. “It’s just- you look a bit- well, erm, grumpy.”
“I’m a demon. Demonss are alwaysss grumpy,” Crowley sulked, pouring herself an extra glass of wine.
“Really now, that’s enough, my dear.” Aziraphale huffed and snatched the wine bottle from Crowley, miracling it back into the pantry. “You know you can tell me anything.” Aziraphale took the demon’s hands in hers, looking up at Crowley with those doe eyes of hers.
Oh, shit . Crowley was going to be inconveniently discoporated. She could feel her serpentine eyes dilate behind her sunglasses, and she didn’t have the energy to control them. She didn’t want to, anyway. Aziraphale was too mesmerising to look at. As Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s hands, Crowley could feel warmth and ethereal energy thrumming to life under her corporation. It was powerful, yet gentle, as if the angel was daring her divine powers not to harm her.
Crowley ached once more at the thought. Oh, how Crowley loved that feeling of her Angel, being so kind, protecting an unworthy, unholy creature like her. Oh, how Crowley longed to worship her Angel, longed to kiss her senseless and kneel at her feet, singing sweet praises for all time to come. Oh, how would Crowley confess after 6000 years?
Stupid. Stupid demon, Crowley thought, an unforgivable, vile, creature, that’s what you are.
“O-Oh, Crowley…” Shit . She must have said the last part aloud. When did she start crying? She didn’t know. “N-nuh-uh, ‘s not your fault, ‘ngel. ‘M j-just drunk, ‘s all. ‘M not crying. Demons don’t cry.” A lie.
“Crowley.” The demon felt strong arms gently take off her sunglasses. “I love you.”
Shit. Oh, shit. Was this real? Crowley blinked once, then blinked again, precious tears falling from her eyelids. “Now, now, none of that.” Aziraphale brought up her thumb to those tears, wiping them away. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. Oh. Her Angel was crying with her. “ ‘M sorry, ‘m sssorry, ‘ngel-” “Hush, now.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley on the cheek, grasping her face in a warm embrace. “I’ve been waiting to tell you for a long time.”
Crowley sobbed.
So, that’s what it took . One little gesture, one “I love you”, and Crowley’s walls come crashing down. “Ngh, I- I- ‘m in love with you too, ‘ngel.” Crowley whimpered, burying her face in the smell of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. “B-but- how can I be ssure ‘m- ‘m worthy of your love?”
“Oh, my darling. You’re the most worthy of it. You’ve been so forgiving and kind to me, my dear. And you’re the prettiest demon of them all.” The angel pressed another kiss to Crowley’s forehead, tucking a strand of fiery ginger hair behind Crowley’s ear.
“Ssshut up. ‘M not kind. Demonsss aren’t ssupposed to be kind. ‘Kind’ ‘sss a four llletter word.” The demon huffed, still hidden between the layers of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. “ Unlovable , that’ss what I am.”
Aziraphale kissed Crowley furiously. “I love you. I love you , my dear. And that proves that there is always something to love in you.” The demon felt positively dizzy, emotions spinning round and round and round like a roulette. The drunkenness from the alcohol did not help either, and now this . “You are not unloveable, Crowley. I- I- I was afraid of admitting it earlier, but I regret not saying it sooner; I can see you needed this more than I did. I love you, my darling. I love you with all my heart. Forever and always.”
Crowley cried. It was all just too much. But in a good way.
Aziraphale peppered kisses all over Crowley’s forehead, her hair, her cheeks. Everywhere, celestial energy thrummed to life, protecting Crowley from her inner demons. Crowley chuckled in between tears ( Was that even possible? Was that even possible without the presence of her Angel? To find joy in times of sorrow and heartache?) , wiping them away with a swipe of her hand. “Mn, ‘ngel, ‘m going to sssober up now.”
“Of course, dearest.”
Crowley slowly miracled all the alcohol away from her body with a demonic intervention, all the while cuddling her sweet, sweet angel. She didn’t want to let go, not ever. She wished this moment would last, she wished it wasn’t a dream, she wished that Aziraphale wouldn’t refuse to admit it after everything. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t a dream at all.
Immediately, the first thing Crowley noticed was her mouth tasting all kinds of sour. The next thing she noticed was that Aziraphale was holding onto her as tightly as she was holding onto Aziraphale. “Aziraphale. Don’t let go.” Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s touch further. ( Don’t say you don’t want me. ) Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes, and Crowley realised that Aziraphale was still sobbing softly, a sweet smile of bittersweet joy planted on her face. “Never, my dear.”
( And I’ll always be by your side; it’s us until the end of time… )
The End.