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"Little demonic miracle of my own."
A million different thoughts raced through Aziraphale's mind as he felt Crowley's fingers brush against his own. The touch left him momentarily paralysed.
"Lift home?"
As he watched Crowley walk towards the Bentley, Aziraphale's mind flashed back to the Bastille. This wasn't exactly the first time Crowley had come to his rescue after his naivety had proved deadly. Truth be told, Crowley had saved Aziraphale an awful lot of paperwork over the years. He'd genuinely lost count of how many times he'd narrowly avoided discorporation thanks to his demonic best friend.
If Aziraphale was being completely honest, he'd stopped being as careful as the years went on, trusting that whenever he managed to get himself into a pickle, Crowley would turn up and save him. He had come to look forward to Crowley's visits, and sometimes even went out of his own way to say hello to the demon. He'd grown used to the warmth Crowley filled him with, but even more used to the guilt that inevitably came after - fraternising with one's enemy was not exactly living up to Heaven's expectations. Besides, demons couldn't love. Ever since the fall, Heaven had made it clear that once an angel's wings turned black, they were truly devoid of any kind of pure love. Aziraphale found himself having to remind his heart of this, everytime it got a little bit over excited at the possibility of Crowley returning his affections.
So when Crowley handed him the books, it left Aziraphale completely floored. Whilst he could be a little bit scatty at times, he was a rather intelligent angel. A rather intelligent angel that could find no reason to explain Crowley's actions other than love.
He slowly walked after the demon, gripping the bag of books as tightly as he wished he could hold his best friend.
Crowley was standing with the passenger side door open, a small smirk evident on his face.
"Come on angel, your ride awaits." He gave an over exaggerated wave to the passenger seat, and Aziraphale quickly climbed in, desperately avoiding eye contact.
He'd spent almost six thousand years convincing himself that Crowley could never love him, coming up with excuse after excuse to explain the demon's behaviour and staying loyal to Heaven's teachings. But if Aziraphale had learnt anything in his time on Earth, it was that he could trust Crowley, and he had been shown tonight more than ever how Crowley felt.
~~~
The car journey back to the bookshop was silent. Aziraphale knew he had to say something, but he had no idea what that was supposed to be. The entire situation was terrifying, not to mention potentially dangerous to Crowley if Hell ever found out.
As the Bentley pulled up outside the bookshop, Aziraphale was pulled out of his thoughts by a grimace from Crowely as he hit the brake.
"My dear, are you quite alright?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah, think I just need a nap after that," Crowley attempted a smile, seemingly hopeful that Aziraphale wouldn't point out he'd been asleep for decades.
"Right, well, can I offer you a drink? You know, as a thank you for all that you've done tonight."
Aziraphale asked. "Nah was nothing. I should probably head home though, plenty of temptations to catch up on." He winked at Aziraphale, who decided now was not the time to mention that he had been doing Crowley's assignments for him and sending the paperwork back down to Hell.
Crowley never said no to a night at the bookshop, leaving Aziraphale unsettled at the rejection. He wondered if deep down Crowley was still mad after their fight over the holy water, but the rest of the evening didn't fit with that theory. As his brain quickly rewound the last thirty minutes, he saw Crowley hopping down the aisle, desperately trying to keep his feet off the ground.
"Crowley! Oh my dear, it's your feet isn't it?"
Crowley visibly winced as Aziraphale looked over, understanding spreading across his face. He didn't want Aziraphale to feel guilty, but he clearly hadn't done enough to hide his pain.
"Oh you must come inside Crowley. I simply cannot let you go home in your current state."
Crowley knew there was no point arguing, so opened the car door ready to go inside. Much to his surprise, he was quickly swept off his feet; honeymoon style.
"What the -"
"I will not allow you to walk another step on burnt feet Crowley, now quit fidgeting." He miracled the door open, and a few seconds later Crowley was gently placed on the sofa out the back.
Aziraphale went to rummage around, finding bandages and all sorts of creams and running some cool water, while Crowley sat in complete shock at the way he'd been so easily manhandled.
Aziraphale quickly returned and carefully removed Crowley's shoes. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to appear unbothered as Aziraphale started to peel his socks off of him. However, the pain was immense and he couldn't help crying out as his skin stuck to the material.
"Oh Crowley I'm so sorry!" Aziraphale exclaimed. "They must be so painful. I would use a miracle but seeing as the cause is consecrated ground, I would simply make it worse as a holy being you see."
"S'fine angel, doesn't hurt OW that much, nkg."
As Crowely finally felt the cool air on his feet, he heard Aziraphale mutter something under his breath. All he caught was "just horrible" but he instantly knew what he was talking about.
Crowley yanked his feet away before Aziraphale could touch them. This was a whole new level of torture, even for a literal demon. He'd known from the start that Aziraphale would never love him, could never love him, but that didn't mean he never fantasised, didn't mean he never tried to be someone worthy of his angel's love. Unfortunately for him, there were physical reminders of his demonic nature. He hated his eyes, although figured that Aziraphale had gotten used to them by now. But his scaly feet? Aziraphale had never seen those before.
The scales had been added to his physical corporation as a punishment from Hell in 1354. After discovering Crowley had healed hundreds of children from The Black Death, claiming he had done it to interfere with God's plan by extending their time on Earth, Hell had felt it necessary to remind Crowely of what evil actually meant. He had been forced to stay in snake form for the rest of the century, with the addition of scales on his feet once he was allowed to take human form again.
Aziraphale knew Crowley detested the fourteenth century but never knew exactly why. Crowley wasn't overly pleased that he was about to find out.
"Look, angel, they're fine. Disgusting yeah, horrible as you said, but fine. Been like it for ages. Little bit of consecrated ground isn't going to make much difference." He mumbled, attempting to stand up. He needed to get as far away from Aziraphale as possible. He didn't exactly want to hear how horrible he was from the only person he'd ever truly loved.
"Crowley for Heaven's sake sit down! I have no idea what you mean by disgusting, I was remarking at how horrible these burns are you silly demon. Now stop moving and let me clean you up, is that clear?" At Crowley's lack of response, Aziraphale pushed a little further. "My dear, whatever is the matter? There is something you're keeping from me. I can tell, Crowley."
For the first time in years, Crowley looked down at his feet. He hadn't realised how badly burnt they were, but it made the scales almost look like part of the damage so he hoped Aziraphale wouldn't notice they weren't. Relaxing back into the sofa, he allowed Aziraphale to continue, fully aware that he had only postponed this conversation rather than avoided it.
Aziraphale felt slightly more confident to talk to Crowley now that he didn't have to make eye contact and had something to distract his hands with, so he tried to put into words what he was feeling.
"Crowley, I must confess something to you. All these years I have, well, I suppose I have maybe ignored some of your kinder gestures towards me. You see, Heaven made it clear that demons cannot love, so I've -"
"Wait what?" Crowley spluttered. Aziraphale looked up, eyes pinning him in place.
Very slowly he said, "but you can. You can love, can't you Crowley?"
Crowley sat stunned, unable to respond. He couldn't tell where this was going. Aziraphale knew. Was he going to be disgusted with his feelings? Pity him? Leave him? He felt his heart slowly beginning to break as he waited for whatever Aziraphale said next.
"Not only can you love, but you do love, don't you?"
Crowley looked down at the angel, his angel, sitting by his feet. He was the definition of beautiful. Before he could stop himself, he was nodding, and tears were forming in his eyes as thousands of years flashed through his mind. Thousands of moments where he'd ached to tell Aziraphale how he felt, but knowing it would never be requited, had tried to show him instead, hoping to win him over even though he knew it was hopeless. It was a lonely life, being a demon, but Crowley had never felt lonely with Aziraphale there. He wondered if today was the last time he'd ever have that luxury again.
Aziraphale said no more as he finished the last bandage, before standing and moving to sit next to Crowley on the sofa.
He slowly reached up towards Crowley's face, hesitantly touching his sunglasses.
"May I?" He asked. Crowley gave another small nod. Aziraphale removed his sunglasses with great care, placing them delicately on the table.
"I have always loved your eyes, my dear. They are truly exquisite." At Crowley's confused expression, he added, "do you not think they are just magnificent Crowley?"
Crowley at this point had forgotten English. "They're demon eyes," was all he managed. Aziraphale giggled a little. Seeing how nervous Crowley clearly was made him feel a little bolder.
"Yes dear, they are demon eyes. Wonderful demon eyes if you ask me." He smiled at Crowley, hoping to reassure him that this was safe. He was safe with Aziraphale.
"I started to confess something earlier, and I feel it is of great importance that I continue. As I was saying, Heaven told us that demons cannot love. They taught us that demons were evil, selfish, cruel. But I've had the pleasure of getting to know a demon, of getting to know you. And you are none of those things Crowley. I know you like to pretend you're not, but deep down you are kind. Tonight you put yourself through pain to save me and my beloved books. Heaven was wrong about you, I was wrong about you, and I am so glad that I was. The truth is Crowley. I- I love you."
Aziraphale stopped there, his words catching up to him and leaving him feeling a bit winded. He desperately hoped he hadn't misinterpreted Crowley.
"You, uh, you lo-, you love… me?" Crowley stuttered, his face turning crimson red and his hands starting to shake. Aziraphale wasn't going to lie or mock him, surely?
"I do, my dear. My absolute dearest." Aziraphale felt tears start to fill his eyes as he watched Crowley's cheeks become wet with his own.
"But, 'm a demon," was all that came out of Crowley's mouth and Aziraphale fondly laughed.
"Yes Crowley, you are a demon with demon eyes and demon feet. Now we have established that, would it be alright for me to kiss you?"
Once again, all Crowley could do was nod.
Aziraphale slowly touched his cheek, brushing his tears away, whilst he interlaced his fingers with Crowley's and rubbed little circles onto his skin with his thumb. He leaned in and gently pressed their lips together, trying to pour thousands of year's worth of love into a single kiss. After a few seconds, Crowley responded, an almost sob escaping his lips as he pressed himself tightly into Aziraphale, kissing him like his life depended on it. He delicately threaded his fingers through the angel's hair, delighted at the softness of it, while Aziraphale deepened the kiss. Heaven had never felt like home to him and Hell was certainly no better, but this was it. He was home in Aziraphale's arms, he was safe and most importantly, he was loved. He couldn't believe it.
Aziraphale slowly pulled away after a few minutes, his forehead leaning against Crowley's and his smile wider than it had ever been before.
"I love you too, angel," Crowley whispered, "always have, always will."
~~~
The bookshop didn't open for a week. Aziraphale deemed it his utmost responsibility to nurse Crowley back to full health before he let him be on his way. If that meant he got a week's worth of kisses and cuddles on the sofa, that was simply a bonus.
They had just finished a final glass of wine (and slice of cake for Aziraphale) before he began peeling off the bandages, Crowley's feet looking a lot more like feet than they had a week ago.
"Oh they look much better! How are they feeling, my dear?"
"Eh, a bit like they were burned a week ago."
"Right, well as always Crowley, it was lovely speaking to you." Aziraphale rolled his eyes at Crowley's amusement as he took the last of the bandages off.
"They feel fine, angel," he said quietly, "thank you." Aziraphale beamed.
He insisted Crowley stay sat while he put his shoes and socks back on, very much enjoying getting to look after his lovely demon. Crowley had finally revealed why he hated the fourteenth century, and had been surprised to feel a burden lift off of his shoulders as he spoke the words out loud.
Aziraphale finally stood up and held both of Crowley's hands in his.
"You know Crowley, your scales are rather beautiful. They turn all different shades of orange and red when the light hits them, absolutely marvellous in my opinion." He wrapped his arms around Crowley's waist and pulled him closer, quietly adding, "I like to think each one represents a child you so bravely saved." Crowley felt a rush of pride at hearing his angel call him brave, and he knew deep down he didn't regret it. Every one of those children had touched his heart - the punishment was worth it. Aziraphale sweetly kissed him on the lips and Crowley felt his entire body light up, breathing in the scent of books and hot cocoa and something distinctly Aziraphale as he buried his face in his angel's neck.
They both knew they couldn't carry this on, it was dangerous enough meeting every now and then, a relationship was practically impossible. But the knowledge that he was loved made Crowley's car journey back to his flat feel a lot less like a goodbye and much more like a promise. A promise of things to come.
"Perhaps one day we could,
I don't know, go for a picnic.
Dine at the Ritz."