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Must be his eyes

Summary:

Crowley accidentally overhears a conversation about Aziraphale's crush and all his insecurities and jealousy start to drive him crazy. Luckily he has an idea which involves whisky, his angel and some talking (okay, maybe more than just talking)

Work Text:

Crowley was in a good mood, dancing through SoHo towards his favourite bookshop. Or rather the only bookshop he'd ever been to. Whatever, he was in a good mood.
He wasn't supposed to meet Aziraphale until dinner that night, but he felt like stopping by and spending a few hours sprawled over the angel's sofa.
Something big and blue in the corner of his eye almost made him stop and examine the dark alleyway next to Aziraphale's bookshop, but he was about to see his favourite being and wouldn't be stalled for anything.


Crowley opened the door just like he had done so many times before in the 200 or so years of it's existence and since the angel was nowhere to be seen, he started towards the back of the shop.


Since the armagedidn't he wasn't afraid to run into Gabriel or simply be seen alone with the angel in his bookshop. Sill, his step slowed down with caution when he heard voices from behind the stacks of books. When he focused on what was being discussed, the demon froze.


He heard a strangely familiar voice ask: "What about that boyfriend of yours?"
Aziraphale laughed nervously: "We're still not together. It's just a silly crush, really."


Crowley's stupid heart that shouldn't even be beating and certailny not for an angel, sank.
His stupid brain overthinking, his body refusing to move, straining to hear more.
Maybe they're talking about... me? There might be a tiny chance the feelings are... mutual?


The stranger continued: "Why don't you just tell him? You're immortal, no risk of dying from embarrasement, is there?" And Crowley almost laughed. If only things were this simple. Spending the rest of eternity AFTER ruining such friendship with a love confession, now that's something to worry about.
As usual, Aziraphale was reading his thoughts. 


"If only it were so simple, my dear friend. He's just so..." the angel paused, leaving Crowley on edge. What is he like? What does he have that I don't? When did you have time to fall in love with someone who's not me?


"He's so kind and thoughtful. He's sensitive and caring..." Throw in more four-letter words, why don't you. List all the things I'm not while you're at it.
"...he's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." This hurt Crowley even deeper. Who is this guy?
"I think what I love about him the most, besides his personality, must be his eyes."

His eyes. His eyes. Azirpahale loves somebody for their eyes. The one thing he, Crowley, can never show to anyone. The one thing he hates the most. The one thing he can never change. 
Crowley's body finally unfroze, a single tear rolling down his cheek, his knees going weak under him. With the smallest of moves, he snapped his fingers and was gone. 

___

Crowley didn't show up for their dinner that night.

Didn't answer Aziraphales desperate calls.

Didn't stop by the shop and didn't even leave his flat.
He's so kind and thoughtful. He's sensitive and caring. What I love about him the most, must be his eyes.
The jealousy was killing him. Not knowing who the friend Aziraphale was talking to was, not knowing who the angel loves not knowing... After a month of drinking and sleeping and repeating those blasted words in his head, Crowley decided to play detective and stalk all the secrets out of the angel.


Another month passed. Crowley followed Aziraphale on his walks in the park, saw him get his favourite pastry in the morning, watched him dine alone at a different restaurant every evening, listened to the click of him locking the shop every night and unlocking it every morning. Not a single time did the angel encounter a single individual matching the description.


When Azirpahale was about to close the shop the following evening, he was almost knocked over by Crowley storming in.
"I'm having whisky, care to join me?" He announced, walking towards the back room, waving a bottle of Port Ellen.
"Looks like I might be needing one too." Aziraphlae agreed as he sat down into his armchair with a sigh.
"I haven't seen you in..." He started before Crowley jumped in.
"Have you ever been in love, angel? Having a crush, they call it these days?"

Aziraphale's heart sank, his brain making the only logical conclusion: Crowley fell in love with someone, that's why he doesn't need him anymore and why he hasn't stopped by the bookshop in two whole months. He should have told him earlier. Should have made a move while there was still a chance.
"Yes." He whispered and decided to finally pour out his poor broken heart.
"I've... I've ever only been in love once." Aziraphale finished his whisky and continued, afarid he might lose his courage.
"He's tall and handsome, the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. But that's not why I fell in love with him all those years back." He continued, unable to look at Crowley, who was visibly suffering but he wanted to hear it. He needed to hear it.
"He's so unlike anyone I've ever met. So kind and selfless. He's so caring but he doesn't want people to know. He's just there. He's always been there when I needed him most. But until now I've been too much of a coward to tell him... how much I appreciate him. And now it's too late." Aziraphale ended in a whisper, finally daring to look at Crowley.
"What... what about you? I understand that's why you stopped by today? Why you asked?" The angel asked although he was almost certain he didn't want to know the answer.
"Yeah, angel. I... I'm in love. But turns out, I'm not good enough. No big surprise there, given what I am."
"Why... why would you not think you're good enough?" Aziraphale wanted to wrap him in his arms and tell him. You're more than enough. You're everything to me.
"Have you seen my eyes?" Crowley almost sobed, the one thing bothering him the most.
"I've always loved your eyes." Aziraphale said in the sweetest drunken voice he can muster, taking a leap of faith and reaching to take Crowley's glasses off.  
"You... you have?" The demon was so startled he let the angel take his shades of and put them on the table.
"What is this really about, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, searching his face for answers.
"It's about you being in love with someone else, angel. Someone who is not me. And it's killing me." 
"Where the hell did you get that from?"
"Heard you talking the other day with... who was that?"
"A friend of mine. The doctor. We've been friends for... a few millenia I quess? So he's always keen to hear an update on... us."
"Us? I heard you desrcibe to him the love of your life, angel. There was no mention of US." 
"Who do you think I was talking about, love?"
"But I'm not..."
Suddenly the dark back room was bright with soft light and warm with an agelic presence.
"You're so kind." Crowley heard the angel whisper into his hair and he felt a shiver run down his spine.
"...and thoughtful." Aziraphale continued, planting a kiss on Crowley's forehead.
"You're sensitive." They were so close they could feel each other's breath.
"And caring." Crowley finally woke up from his dream only to realize it's real. They're real. His angel was kneeling in front of him, cupping his cheek and whispering the sweetest words.
"You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." Was the last thing the angel said before his lips were claimed by a touch-starved demon and before all his worries were washed away by the waves of love flooding the old bookshop.
What seemed like hours later, Aziraphale broke the kiss not to breathe, since they technically didn't have to do that, but to sing onle last sentence that was the death of Crowley:
"I think what I love about you the most, must be your eyes."