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They’ve been free from the intense scrutiny of heaven and hell for nearly six months now, it’s still a novel thought that Crowley and Aziraphale somehow miraculously managed to avert the apocalypse simply by being so terribly bad at their respective jobs and any subsequent attempt to not do those jobs that whole mess practically sorted itself out.
So they’re independent agents now, they’re on their own side, they answer to no one but each other.
Which is to say there are no jobs to do or problems to solve and honestly Crowley is a bit bored. He likes talking to the Angel but talking without purpose means he has to say the things he’s thinking and that seems like a sure fire way to destroy whatever peace and happiness they’ve managed to wrangle for themselves.
Still Crowley is more than a little grateful when his mobile phone rings and interrupts yet another lonely morning in his flat staring at the wall wondering how the rest of forever looks for him now that he can make his own -probably bad-choices.
It’s a lovely added bonus when he hears Aziraphale’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Crowley, Hello um I’ve found myself in a spot of bother and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind popping round to the-“ There’s the muffled sound of a crash and Crowley is sure he hears a soft mutter of ‘ oh bugger’ before Aziraphale must get a hold of the receiver again. “Bookshop dear boy, please.”
This is the Angel's worried voice, and a little bit his embarrassed voice which gives Crowley the impression that this isn’t really something to worry about. More than likely it’s something Crowley will laugh at Aziraphale for, then of course after the laughter has died down he’ll help him resolve it. Like that time with the open window and the pigeons.
“Be there shortly.” Crowley hangs up knowing if he doesn’t Aziraphale will give him a verbal rundown of the entire situation which neither of them really needs to suffer through when the issue clearly requires Crowley’s physical presence.
The Bentley knows to be waiting for him when he gets out and down to the street, the door opens before he can think to open it himself and he can’t help but smile. After the whole mess with the M25 Crowley feels the Bentley can at times be a little more reluctant to be driven but once it seems to know where they’re heading it really kicks it up a notch.
The drive over is quicker than usual thanks to a few tiny miracles with the traffic lights and Crowley is only slightly concerned when he sees that the bookshop is closed at this time of the day and all the curtains are drawn, he knows the door’ll open for him regardless.
Once the Bentley has found its usual parking spot regardless of the other car parked there only a moment ago Crowley hops out, giving it a quick pat on the hood before heading over to the Bookshop. Just as he expected the door opens when he tries the handle, slightly less expected is how quickly the door then slams shut behind him.
“That’s a little dramatic Angel.” Crowley calls out into the room and despite not seeing Aziraphale he knows the Angel can hear him. “Surely it can’t be that bad.”
“You really have no idea.” Aziraphale sounds timid which is not uncommon generally but it is certainly unusual for him to sound so unsure in his own bookshop.
“No I don’t, so why don’t you tell me what’s the matter?” Crowley asks as he continues his leisurely circuit of the bookshop, inspecting it for any signs of change or damage, anything that might clue him into the issue. “Did you break something? In need of some DIY? Want me to scare a human away? Oh did you accidentally sell a book again?”
“No I- Oh I best just show you-“ Aziriphale sounds entirely put off by the idea alone. “It’s quite…embarrassing.”
“Come on now Angel, I’ll only laugh at you a little.” It’s as honest as Crowley knows how to be. “A chuckle at most, maybe a singular guffaw.”
Something feels different, the air is lighter and brighter and smells faintly of vanilla, Crowley feels a sort of fizzing around him that has him almost giddy with excitement. Whatever this is, it's going to be fun.
“Oh Crowley, you aren’t helping .” Aziraphale’s voice takes on that petulant almost whiny tone that sometimes happens when Crowley’s teasing is being particularly well received but he wants to pretend otherwise and Crowley can picture him pouting and stomping his foot, if he says something particularly clever now Aziriphale will laugh in that charming reluctant way of his and the day’ll be ten times better.
“Really now Angel, I- nghmh?”
Despite having a perfect retort planned, what actually comes out of Crowley’s mouth is a series of absurd noises when he turns and sees Aziraphale standing in the middle of his bookshop with his angelic wings out and fully on display.
“Oh.” Crowley’s pretty sure his brain has stopped working. “ Oh? ”
“Yes, oh indeed.” The wings flutter a little as Aziraphale wrings his hands. “They are quite obvious.”
“And you…I mean did you ngk choose to or?” Crowley can’t stop staring, it’s been…a long time since he saw the Angel’s wings properly, there had been that brief glance during the not-pocalypse but that wasn’t this . They’re very…white.
“No dear boy I didn’t, a cursed book I’m afraid.” Aziraphale looks more sheepish than normal as he gestures to the large antique looking tome on the floor by the armchair, he must have dropped it when whatever curse activated which briefly has Crowley worried it might have been painful but Aziraphale must see the flicker of concern and is quick to sooth it. “Hardly more than a fright really but I am most definitely cursed.”
“Cursed to-“ Crowley gestures vaguely to the Angel’s wings, his large and very much corporeal wings, some feathers look almost golden in the Bookshop’s soft antique candle light. “ Wings .”
“Yes, and I can’t get them to go away again.” Aziraphale frowns awkwardly and turns a little to look at his plumage which in turn slams his right wing into a bookshelf which teeters precariously before settling again when the Angel panics and draws his wings in tight to his body. “I’m not used to them after so long, this place is much too crowded all of a sudden.”
“Ngh yeah imagine it is.” Crowley feels crowded and he’s on the other side of the room. “How can I- what do we do?”
“I had hoped you might know.”
He sounds so hopeful that Crowley almost wishes he did know, but he’s half sure even if the knowledge had been in there somewhere his brain would have booted it to make room for the mental snapshots he’s taking of Aziraphale looking how he looks right now with his wings just right there .
“What? Why would I know?”
“Well it’s a demonic book, or occult anyway. That’s your thing.”
“That is not my thing.”
“Your side’s thing then.” Aziriphale acquiesces.
“Don’t have a side.” The reminder is sharper than Crowley intends it to be and there’s definitely a slight hiss in his words. “Besides, books are your thing.”
“Oh you know what I mean-“ Aziriphale’s wings stretch out as he speaks, drawing up and back as he squares his shoulder with a furrowed brow the picture of righteous frustration only to immediately fold back in when they hit the bookshelf again. “Gh.”
“You were always very expressive .” Crowley means it as a compliment but from the way Aziriphale’s wings shrink even further into himself the Angel hadn’t taken it that way.
“This is a disaster, I can’t even go outside Crowley! This’ll only pass as a costume for a few moments at best.” His tone borders on panicked and it’s clear how much of an effort it takes to stop his wings fluttering anxiously. “This hardly helps us lay low.”
“Yeah okay, I get it.” Crowley does even if he’s a little offended at the idea that Aziriphale’s wings are anything like an issue. “But really that book’s more a witchy thing, all those ritual folks who want Angel feathers for their spells.”
“Oh yes, quite right.” Aziriphale hides his disappointment well, his wings do not. They droop down until the bottommost feathers touch the floor. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out in the end.”
“Angel.” Crowley speaks as gently as he can, which does a good job of catching Aziriphale’s attention. “We know a witch.”
“Do we?” His wings perk up and Crowley can’t help but chuckle.
“We do, that one from Tadfield, remember?” It’s hardly like him to forget a friendly face, especially one so helpful during the almost but definitely not end of the world but then again a lot had been going on at the time. “Angelia Doohickey or whatever.”
“Oh yes of course! Anathema Device.” It’s like watching the sunrise, Aziraphale brightens instantly and Crowley feels warmed. “Perhaps she’ll know what to do.”
“Worth a shot.”
“I’m sure I have her number noted down, we talk occasionally about her book collection. She has such a marvellous range of Wicca and Pagan manuscripts.”
Aziraphale grins that excited little grin of his and his wings perk up considerably which makes Crowley’s heart do something funny that he can’t even begin to analyse because suddenly he has a face full of feathers that quite effectively knock him flat on his ass.
“Nhgh-“ he briefly considers reaching out to grab something and stabilise himself but he’d hate to pull out any of Aziraphale’s feathers by accident so he just accepts his fate and hits the ground with a thump. “Angel, watch the-“
The stack of books on the desk goes flying as Aziraphale turns quickly to fuss over Crowley on the floor. “OH I am so sorry, I completely forgot about- my dear are you alright.”
Crowly finds himself blanketed by fluffy white as Aziriphale leans down to help him up, they block out any other view besides his meekly concerned face and briefly Crowley is reminded of rain on the eastern gate. “Fine Angel, fine. Watch your books-“
The warning comes a second too late as another stack is knocked to the floor by a wayward shifting of feathers. “Oh this is hopeless! I’m making such a mess.”
Aziriphale’s wings curl down and in again and that actually helps a lot with their lack of space, the tips of them meet behind Crowley’s back and he feels at once trapped and comforted as they wrap around him entirely.
“I’ll call her Angel, just find somewhere to make yourself comfortable okay?” Feathers shift and suddenly Crowley feels cold, no not cold, just colder, it’s odd but the lights seem dimmer somehow.
“Alright…” Aziraphale’s wings drag lines into the dust on the floor as he turns and wanders towards the back of the bookshop. “Her number should be on the desk dear.”
It takes some hunting and a minor miracle but Crowley finds the number stuffed into a book about witchfinders in the rural parts of Britain. The phone is picked up before the first ring has even had time to finish.
“Hello! I had a feeling you’d call soon, I have that thing you were asking for, oh and Newt is asking about a copy of th-“
“It’s Crowley.” He tries to feel bad for interrupting her but he feels worse about the fact that apparently her and Aziraphale speak enough that she’d expect a call and he didn’t know about it. “Anathema, listen I need some help.”
“Oh hello, sorry I expected to hear Az he asked for a loan of one of my books, could you tell him I’ve mailed it over, It should arrive in a few days.”
Something like jealousy rears its head but Crowley is quick to stamp it down, bury it as deep as possible and then pour some concrete over the top just to be safe.
“Yeah yeah listen what do you know about uh-“ Crowly glances at the tome warily as though it may jump up and bite him. “Easy and effective traps for the divine by Anita Trapp.”
“I have a copy I’m sure, why? Do you need it?”
“No no, I've got a copy here that’s apparently cursed.”
“Oh really?” She sounds excited which Crowley tries not to be mad about. “What kind of curse?”
“I’ve got an Angel on earth with his wings out and no way of getting them back in.” There’s no rush, Crowley finds himself thinking, it doesn’t sound urgently bad at all really. “He’s not hurt though.”
“Ah yes okay, I think I know what you’re talking about. That’s not really a curse, I think that’s one of the pages of the book.”
“A page of the book did this?”
“I’ll need to dig out my copy and see, can I call you back?”
“Well we definitely aren’t going anywhere anyway, get back to us when you can.”
“Alright, speak to you soon.” Anathema hangs up before Crowley even has a chance to respond and he chooses to take that as a good sign that she’s eager to get to work.
“Right, where’s he gone off to?”
Crowley replaces the receiver onto the stand and heads over to lock the front door while he’s here simply because there have been more than a few occasions in the past where a clear closed sign isn’t enough to stop humans who apparently despite entering a bookshop can’t read.
When Crowley returns to him Aziraphale is standing in the middle of the shop's backroom looking more than a little overwhelmed, Crowley has the brief rather mean thought that this is entirely his own fault for having so many knick knacks laying about but a half second to imagine Aziraphale’s shop neat and nearly empty has Crowley quickly taking it back.
Heaven is barren minimalism and clinical and clean, his Angel is clutter and dust and books upon books.
“Well?” Aziriphale wrings his hands nervously and his wings flutter in short sharp bursts. “What did she say?”
“She knows the book.” Crowley keeps his tone casual as he picks a seat to sprawl himself out in. “She’ll give us a call back when she’s got her own copy to hand and an idea of why all this-“ he gestures to the wings. “-has happened.”
“Oh thank you.” The relief is palpable as Aziraphale’s wings flutter once more before settling into a much more relaxed position. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this.”
“Your wings’ bothering you Angel?” Crowley raises an eyebrow above the frame of his glasses as their dark lenses hide his quick once over of the bright feathers.
“A little, they’re just so- so in the way!” Aziraphale turns in place as if to demonstrate his point, even drawn in as they are, his wings brush the edges of book towers and are at risk of knocking over a lamp. “It’s irritating to say the least, I can’t even sit down comfortably.”
“Just spin that chair round and sit facing the backrest.”
“That’s hardly the proper way to-“ Aziraphale looks at the chair like it might bite him.
“Angel humans don’t have wings, they don’t design their things to accommodate them.” Crowley rolls his eyes and kicks the leg of the chair. “Just turn it around.”
“…alright but I feel utterly ridiculous.” Aziriphale turns the chair reluctantly and sits himself down so delicately, so primly that Crowley can’t help but grin. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Crowley doesn’t even attempt to stop staring, he’d almost forgotten how much Aziraphale’s wings reflected his mood. “Like someone who gives good suggestions?”
“Like this all amuses you.” The petulant pout of Aziriphale’s lip is paired with a dramatic drooping of his wings. “It’s not making me feel any better.”
“I’m not laughing at you, just been a while since I saw them.” Crowley tilts his head just enough that he’s sure Aziraphale can tell he’s looking at them even with his shades on. “That’s all.”
“They’re hardly anything special.”
The Angel sounds so down about it that Crowley very nearly say something nice, luckily he’s saved from that potential embarrassment by the phone ringing.
“That’ll be Anathema, wait here I’ll see what she says.” He springs up and darts to the phone.
The dejected Angel sighs. “It’s not like I have much of a choice my dear.”
Crowley catches the phone on the seventh ring and he really needs to remind Aziraphale to clear the floor sometime soon, tripping over books may be a good sales deterrent for humans but Crowley also has to walk around in here.
“Hey whatcha find out?”
“Good news! It’ll wear off on its own, the spell is used to keep an Angel’s wings corporeal so that their feathers can be collected.”
“Great, how long?”
“I don’t know, it doesn’t say.”
“That’s not ideal, can we get a ballpark guess? Hours, days, months? Will we be able to leave this place by new years.”
“Oh nothing more than a day or two I should imagine but also there’s another thing.”
“A good or bad thing?”
“Not good but not necessarily bad either.”
“Go on.” Not good or bad but kinda between is definitely more their speed anyway. “What’s the damage?”
“His miracles won’t be working for as long as the wings are out, maybe even a few hours longer, it’s to stop Angels smiting those that use the spell. It’s all very clever actually.”
“Right not ideal but we’ll cope, anything that’ll help speed up the process? A spell or a potion or whatever else witches do.”
“Not that I know of sorry, I’m sure I can-“ Crowley hears rustling papers and something decidedly metal being knocked off a desk. “Maybe if I read over the books again I’ll find something?”
They could panic and spend loads of time looking for an answer that might not even exist but really this isn’t so bad, a day with wings won’t hurt Aziraphale and he’ll have Crowley to take care of him anyway, that thought definitely doesn’t spawn a warm sort of fluttering in Crowley’s gut which he doesn’t have to ignore because it definitely didn’t occur in the first place.
“Don’t stress yourself, it’ll pass soon enough, thanks for all your help.”
“Don’t mention it, if you need anything else you’ve got my number.”
She hangs up before Crowley can clarify that technically Aziraphale had needed her help and technically Crowley doesn’t have her number Aziraphale does.
When the demon returns to be backroom it seems Aziraphale has made an effort to clear himself some space, several book stacks are pushed off to the side and the couch has been moved against the wall so the Angel can sit facing it in his chair in the centre and allow his wings to stretch out without risk of knocking anything over.
“She says it’ll wear off in a day or so, nothing we can do to speed it up but no harm’ll come from it.” Crowley drops down into his seat on the couch again pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head. “Oh and you can’t do miracles apparently.”
“What?” Aziriphale must try to do some little miracle which evidently doesn’t work if the panicked look on his face and the anxious fluttering of his wings is anything to go by. “Oh dear, what if something happens? What if I need to- to do something? Oh gosh what a mess.”
“I’ll be here Angel, I’ll do any miracles we need.”
“Really? You’ll stay?” Aziraphale says it with such joyful disbelief that Crowley has to look away to avoid too many feelings all at once. “Oh thank you!”
“‘course I will, we can have a drink.” Crowley stretches out with a sharp grin. “Pass the time.”
“Oh yes of course, I have some bottles of-“ The lamp nearly takes a tumble as Aziraphale begins to stand.
“Perhaps best if I get them?” Crowley raises an eyebrow and miracles the bottles and two glasses onto the coffee table by the couch. “These ones?”
“Oh yes, thank you dear boy, quite right.” The Angel takes his seat again and fidgets with his sleeve cuffs.
“We can tidy up later.” Crowley tries to sooth him as he pours a glass for each of them only to glance up and meet Aziraphale’s reluctant gaze. “Hhm?”
“Actually dear boy I don’t think I feel much like a drink tonight, I already feel clumsy as it is.” Aziraphale looks almost shy as he continues. “I however might like something to eat if you don’t mind terribly? There’s this new dessert place down the road and it just looks heavenly and I was going to pop down after work but I can’t exactly- in my present state I mean with the-“
Before the Angel can finish his bumbling tirade and get to the proper asking part of the request Crowley has summoned one of everything they had on offer this evening. It hardly fits on the coffee table so Crowley also extends it just a little, just to be sure there’s room for his bottle and the food since he’d hate to have to sit any further away.
“No trouble Angel, none at all.”
“Oh Crowley .” Aziraphale speaks his name with such reverence Crowley is half tempted to put his glasses back on again just to disguise any reaction he definitely isn’t having. “You’re so good to me.”
Crowley huffs and downs the wine in Aziraphale’s rejected glass. “Shut up and eat your food.”
If Crowley had thought the distraction of food would stop Aziraphale accidentally doing things that cause that stupid warm fuzzy feeling in Crowley’s soul to flare he was very much mistaken.
The way Aziraphale eats is something Crowley will never tire of, the Angel appreciates every single bite just as much as the first or the last, it almost makes Crowley wish he liked eating as much as Aziraphale seems to. Then again he imagines he likes watching Aziraphale eat almost as much as Aziraphale likes the act of eating itself so maybe they both get something out of it.
And the wings! Oh the wings, Crowley has never seen him enjoy food with his wings out and on display, they really hide nothing. Any particularly delicious mouthful is accompanied by a flexing of his wings in time with an incredulous little shake of the head like he can’t believe the food is as good as it is. Crowley makes a mental note of anything that’s well received and resolves to get them again for the Angel as a gift, when this wing fiasco is over and he can miracle again, just to show that Crowley really doesn’t mind helping him out and doing things for him whenever he asks and whenever he doesn’t.
The demon is so distracted by cataloguing any little movement of Aziraphale’s angelic appendages that he’s a bottle and a half of wine in before he realises the Angel has stopped eating entirely despite there being many deserts left that he hasn’t sampled yet, it’s so unlike him that it takes Crowley a few moments and several false starts to bring it up.
“Not a fan?” Crowley absolutely does not sound disheartened. “You don’t like it?”
“What?” To Aziraphale it must have come out of nowhere seeing as they had been talking about music a few moments ago, or really more accurately Aziraphale had been talking and Crowley had been staring and almost listening. “I was just saying how much I do like it! Maggie’s shop really is ideal next door I-“
“No food Angel, the food.” Crowley gestures to the fancy little desserts still remaining sadly untouched. “not up to scratch?”
“Oh no dear it’s lovely, I just thought I ought to pace myself.” That melancholy tinged shyness is back again and Crowley decides at once that it doesn’t suit the Angel one bit. “I’m- I-“
“Why?” Crowley shifts in place so he can lounge along the couch and make something resembling eye contact with Aziraphale.”What's the matter?”
“Well I- I just thought I’m probably going to be stuck inside for most of tomorrow and I’d hate to impose by asking you to perform more frivolous miracles on my behalf.”
That soft glitter in the air that’s been present since Aziraphale’s wings manifested has dimmed somewhat and Crowley is struck suddenly by the thought that something has genuinely upset his Angel.
“I told you I don’t mind, ‘s nothing Angel, I can walk down and get you more if you like no big deal.” Crowley finds himself almost desperate to convince the other being that even if it was trouble it’d be worth it. “If you like it, have it.”
“…you really don’t mind?” There’s a hopeful timidness there that Crowley finds much more palatable. “I hate to be a burden dear.”
“Pfft you’re never a burden to me Angel, eat your sweets and smile about it.” Crowley grins sharply at Aziraphale with the hopes of encouraging a smile in return. “We’ll get you sushi tomorrow.”
It works a treat and that golden tinge in the air reignites with Aziraphale’s radiant smile and Crowley feels something in him shift a little, reaching out like a snake seeking the warmth of direct sunlight. It’s nearly primal and he has to force himself to draw back before he can act on the impulse.
“Right.” Crowley downs the remainder of his glass then inspects what remains in the bottle with a frown. “You got anything stronger than this?”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale hums around a mouthful of some kind of cream tart before he hurries to swallow. “Oh yes I’m sure, that whiskey you brought me from Scotland years ago is downstairs if you’d like-“
Crowley summons the bottle before the Angel can even think to stand and get it for him, pouring a hearty measure which he enjoys drinking immensely. “Remind me to get more of this sometime, we should go on a trip when you can fit in the car.”
“Oh…yes that sounds lovely.” Aziraphale doesn’t sound like he means it, or he does but he also sounds sort of sad-ish.
“What is it Angel? Do you want a glass?” Crowley worries it’s because he’s been rude, that isn’t usually an issue but Aziraphale seems extra sensitive today. “I can pour you some.”
“No no it’s quite alright, I’m content with my pastries. Excellent selection by the way, well done!” His smile is brief and while genuine it settles funny in Crowley’s chest. “I’m just…you’re a guest here but I can’t even get you a drink without breaking something.”
His wings are tucked in so tight to his body that it must be uncomfortable, the flight feathers no longer graze against the very bottom of Crowley’s legs no matter how far he stretched himself out. The demon simply won’t stand for it.
“I hate when you make yourself look ssmall.” The hiss in his tone is only half intentional. “Stop it, big yourself again.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale raises an eyebrow and the confusion is enough to have his wings tipping forward just enough to brush against Crowley’s ankle.
“You- you slouch into yourself, l-like your- you don’t wanna take up sspace but you should, take up space.” Crowley himself practically lays against the couch so he can half slip down and knock his boot into Aziraphale’s. “I like the space you take up, perfect amount of space.”
“I hardly think that’s- Crowley I’ve knocked over half the bookshop by now that’s hardly a good use of space.” Despite his words the Angel’s wings lift up and outward just a little and the light from the window shines through them casting a pale muzzy glow across the couch that Crowley feels is perfect for his current mood.
“It should’ve moved outta your way, everyone should, just let you go where you like be honoured you even passed it by.” His gestures are loose and wide and maybe just a little bit meant to draw him closer to his angelic companion. “You deserve the space more than a stupid lamp does.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” Aziraphale has that amused little smile he gets when he’s indulging Crowley in his drunken nonsense but this absolutely isn’t nonsense.
“Nah ‘s not, just true. Anyone’d be lucky to get a face fulla your feathers.” The demon raises a hand to feel across his cheek in case somehow there’s a physical reminder of the not so gentle caress of feathers he’d gotten earlier. “‘S very soft, smells like- like light!”
Crowley rather suddenly realises that drinking alone in Aziraphale’s company is a devilishly easy way to warp his perspective on how much he’s had, two bottles of wine and some whiskey between them isn’t much at all but he recalls through a hazy sort of awareness that he’s the only one that’s actually been drinking any of it.
“They’re magnif- magifesn-.” The realisation however does not stop him talking. “Ssso pretty.”
“P-pretty?” The Angel looks flustered and intrigued and unsure and really very handsome in this low golden light. “You really think so?”
“Yeah ‘course, all white and fluffy and well taken care of.” Crowley adjusts himself to sit almost properly on the couch, now that Aziraphale feels more comfortable his wings are settling and Crowley would hate to bump them and scare them away again. “Well tended!”
“Oh thank you, I do my best for them.” The Angel sounds so pleased with himself that Crowley resolves to damn however nice it’s perceived to be and compliment him more often, it’ll be an ultimately selfish act anyway, Crowley would do anything to see that smile again. “I preen them by hand you know, I just feel it does a better job than miracling them you see.”
“Can tell, good job.” Crowley knows he’s staring again but they really are stunning. “Best wings in heaven I’d say, and hell and earth, probably best in the whole universe actually.”
Aziraphale flushes a spectacular shade of pink and giggles; a pleased little sound that Crowley needs to hear again immediately right this instant and for the rest of forever please and thank you.
“You’re too kind, dearest.”
It’s almost odd how happy Crowley feels seeing Aziraphale like this, it reminds him of their time up above but so much better because Crowley is Crowley and Aziraphale is Aziraphale and they’re together just the two of them. There’re no jobs, no supervisors, no commitments apart from the ones they’ve made to one another, unspoken bonds and promises that Crowley actually agreed to and Crowley can stare as much as he likes and no one’ll say a damn thing about it.
He spots a single feather out of place along the upper section of the Angel's wings, just a little break in the otherwise perfectly smooth surface and his drunken mind provides one singular clear thought through his shimmery pleasant haze; He can do more than stare .
“Ooop feather outta place lemme jusst-“ Crowley hardly thinks before he slithers across the sofa to reach out and gently preen it. “There, perfect Angel.”
“ Crowley! ” Aziraphale sounds softly scandalised and his wings almost shudder before they fold back and away from the touch. “ What are you doing?”
“Sshit sorry, ssorry. Didn’t think, very personal that, ‘course, won’t do it again.” Crowley feels himself flush a little at being called out but he can’t really find it in himself to be properly sorry. “Jusst wanted ‘t help.”
“No no it’s- it’s alright dear boy I just wasn’t expecting it…” Aziriphale’s gaze remains firmly on the ground as his wings shift a little behind him. “You can- I mean if you’d like you can take a proper look at them? I’m sure I have a few out of place that I can’t quite sort myself, you know how it is.”
“Yeah, yess-“ Crowley tries not to sound too eager as he shifts up onto his knees to get a better look. “Will I-?”
“No no I think I’ll-“ Aziriphale stands carefully and moves his chair so it sits just in front of the couch, that way when he sits back down his back and his wings are facing Crowley. “Is that better?”
“Much much better.” Crowley is hard pressed to imagine how this day could get any better from here. “Fuck just look at you.”
Crowley takes his shades off entirely and tosses them somewhere on the couch, he needs a proper view of this. Aziraphale‘s wings are remarkably well cared for -especially considering they’ve been on earth all this time- all the soft feathers are layered near perfectly and they look so strong and clean. Crowley briefly wonders if he preens them by hand every morning, then feels a strange flash of loss at not having been there every time, to help, to see.
“Angel you’re sso neat , there’s hardly a feather outta place, wouldn’t’ve been able to guess you’ve been bumping into sstuff all morning.”
“Why thank you dea-!” Aziraphale’s sentence is broken off by an almost squeak when Crowley, unable to fight the impulse any longer, ruffles his hands through the majority of the downy feathers to mess them up. “ Crowley ?!”
“Ssorry, just wanted to see what you’d look like all messed up.” He pets the Angel’s feather once more, perhaps as an apology, probably just because he wants to, before drawing his hands back. “Now they’re fluffy-er! Hhk Fluffier?”
“You better sort those, that took me hours to get right.” Aziraphale doesn’t sound particularly cross but there’s a tinge of anxiety there.
“Sure ssure, you look good either way.” Crowley shrugs. “Could probly wear them like that, ‘s a style. Humans have messy hair all th’ time and call it Ssstyle.”
“Yes well-“ Aziraphale huffs and Crowley doesn’t need to see him to know he’s getting flustered, it brings a smile to his face before he can stop it. “That’s not the point.”
“Really? ‘nd wats the point then?” Crowley may or may not miracle the couch a few inches further forward, just to get a better look at the Angel, that’s all. “Thought you cared about the aest- asst- looks of stuff.”
“The point is you can’t just- you can’t just ruffle my feathers for your own amusement.” Aziraphale glances back over his shoulder to look at Crowley and if Crowley had to breathe he’s sure he’d suddenly have a bit of difficulty in that department. “This’ll be difficult for me to fix on my own.”
“Good thing you’re not on your own then, Hmm Angel?” He’s quite impressed with how casual his teasing sounds. “I’m here.”
Without a second’s hesitation Crowley begins to methodically preen Aziraphale’s wings, his touch gentle and efficient and if he lingers far longer on certain spots than he strictly needs to then that's between him and Go- Sat- Someone .
“I was only teasing, y-you really don’t have to.” Aziraphale is suddenly rather tense and Crowley really isn’t sure what to make of that, he’d heard from other Angels that getting your wings groomed for you was relaxing for those who went in for that sort of thing back before the fall when Angels weren’t as scared of messing up by being too nice to one another. “It’ll strain your hands a-and they’ll only get messy again when I have to move later, you shouldn’t bother with it I can-“
“Shhh, ‘m concentrating.” Crowley tugs lightly but firmly on the outer edge of the Angel’s left wing. “I want to help, jus’ stop squirming.”
“Fine yes, good, right-o then carry on.” The wings stop fluttering and Aziraphale finally seems to relax into Crowley’s touch. “You’re - ahem - quite good at this.”
“Thankss, never done it to someone else before, bit different at thiss angle. Ah?!” Crowley is heartbroken when one of the feathers he’s trying to get back into place slips out and into the palm of his hand. “ oh Angel, your hrgh- “
Aziraphale glances back over his shoulder again with a look of alarm before a fond smile soothes his expression into something much gentler. “No harm, that happens from time to time and I have been bumping into rather a lot. Here I’ll burn it-“
Aziraphale’s reaching hand is quickly and ineffectually slapped away from the feather by Crowley’s uncoordinated attempt to keep hold of it. “No! No, don’t burn it.”
Pale eyebrows raise up as Aziraphale seems utterly puzzled by Crowley’s sudden outburst. “Why ever not? It’s the safest way to dispose of them.”
“Fuck off, ‘s mine now if you don’t want it.” Crowley gently places the feather into the lapel of his jacket, patting it once firmly to make sure it’s in place. “ ‘ll keep it ssafe.”
When he turns back Aziraphale has a strange look on his face and Crowley feels a little embarrassment barge in past the copious amounts of booze in his system. “What?”
“Nothing, I- I just didn’t think it was worth keeping. That’s all.” Aziraphale twists around to sit facing Crowley, his hand is slow and hesitant as he reaches out and brushes against his own feather in Crowley’s lapel. “It suits you tremendously well.”
“I know.” Crowley can’t help how sure he sounds of that, the next words are out of his mouth before his brain even has a chance to process them. “It’s a bit of you, ‘course it suits me, we match but the opposite but also the same. What’s that called? Doesn’t matter, we fit together exactly right.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows do that thing they do where they look a bit cross or sad but his mouth is smiling and his voice wobbles in a sort of disbelieving way. “ Yes of course, could I- perhaps the next time you lose one of yours you’ll..put it aside for me?”
Crowley feels himself light up from the inside, the confirmation that his Angel wouldn’t just allow him to keep the angelic feather but that he wants one of Crowley’s demonic ones in return is almost too much. Can too much goodness and joy and all that mushy nonsense kill a demon? Should Crowley be worried because he does feel a little like he’s swallowed the sun.
“Uhhggh-“
“Is that a yes?” Bastard has the nerve to look smug and look good while looking smug which is even worse than just looking smug.
“Ghk mhhmm, yep yeah.” Crowley finally gets some semi intelligible words out. “Can have any part of me you like.”
“Oh but I like all of you.” Aziraphale says plainly. “Every bit.”
The Angel might be teasing, he’s probably definitely just teasing but Crowley is moving before he can stop himself, slithering straight off the couch and into Aziraphale’s warm waiting arms.
“There you go, one all of me as requested.” Crowley huffs out a chortling breathy sort of laugh as soft strong arms hoist him up to stop him sliding straight down onto the floor. “Bit much to carry about even for such a strong Angel but no take backss~.”
“Oh you devious serpent.” Aziraphale’s fond smile is audible and visible and Crowley is close enough that he can also sort of feel it rumbling in his chest and that makes it three times as charming as usual. “Sneaking closer to mess up my feathers again.”
“Mmmh yeah definitely that-“ Crowley finds himself basking in the pleasant angelic glow of his companion, it’s been sometime since they were this close and Crowley forgot how warm Aziraphale runs especially with all those extra layers of his. “No ult- ulteri- other reason.”
“My dear boy you’ll do yourself damage if you aren’t careful.” Warm hands settle on Crowley’s back and he’s sure it’s to steady his gentle swaying but it also feels a bit like an embrace and he really can’t remember the last time he got one of those. “I thought I was supposed to be the clumsy one today.”
“Mgh maybe, thought we’d share the title, make it even.” Crowley leans closer, inadvertently squishing his face cheek to cheek with Aziraphale as he reaches back to sort some of the feather’s he’d missed earlier.
“Crowley there really is no need, you’ll hurt yourself contorting like that and it isn’t worth th-“
Crowley scowls and grips the back of Aziraphale’s neck to firmly pull him in so they end up nose to nose.
“Shut up, you’re worth more than anything, I’d burn in the pits a thousand million billion times over for you, stop talking down to yourself, heaven does enough of that and I can’t be mad at them for it but not you for it. That’s hypoc- hypocritcy? Hypothetical! No, hypocrisy, yes.”
“…I thought demons liked hypocrisy?” Aziraphale’s voice has gone all soft and distracted.
“Not as much as I like you.” Crowley thought that would be obvious by now. “Obviously.”
“Oh yes, I suppose-“ Aziraphale hesitates then nods. “Yes alright, but if you really need to tend to them you’d be best letting me move to-“
“No!” Crowley tightens his grip on Aziraphale’s waistcoat. “Don’t move, I’ll fall.”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale laughs fondly and tries to gently pry Crowley’s hands off him. “You’ll tear it, come on now, let’s be reasonable I wouldn’t let you fall. You’ll have to get up first, then I’ll stand.”
“nuh-uh.”Crowley ducks his head down to cosy into the bend of Aziraphale’s neck, nosing against the mimicked human pulse this corporation doesn’t need to replicate. “ Azziraphale ~”
“Darling, you'd be more comfortable on the couch.” It’s spoken softly into Crowley’s ear and the breath that ruffles his hair is gentle and smells of tea and sweet cream. “It’ll only take a moment.”
“Liess.” It’s hissed with a smile just to be contrary. “Most comfortable ‘ve been in ages and ages and agess-“
“Yes yes you don’t need to go on about it-“ Aziraphale’s cheeks colour and Crowley decides he’s absolutely going to keep going on about it. “Crowley, stop-“
“ And ages and ages and ages and agesss~”
“Hmph!” It seems that’s the final straw, Aziraphale simply stands from his seat taking Crowley up with him, it’s barely a moment suspended in the air being held by his Angel before he’s deposited onto the couch again. “There see much better, I’ll get you a blanket.”
Something about seeing Aziraphale’s back turned to him heading out the door of the backroom alights something like panic in Crowley’s snake brain, what if he doesn’t come back? What if he gets hurt and Crowley isn’t there? He nearly lost him to the almost end of the world not so long ago. He refuses to let it happen again.
“Ghgg-“ Crowley throws himself up off the couch with as much grace as he can muster -which isn’t very much at all- and latches onto Aziraphale. His hands catch some shoulder and quite a lot of feather. “ Don’t .”
For all that the Angel is clearly taken off guard by his wayward serpent he doesn’t try to shake Crowley off, he simply turns to glance over his shoulder as best he can without risking displacing the demon prematurely. “Crowley I really don’t think this is-“
“‘s fine, you worry too much Angel.” Crowley adjusts his grip a little so he can more effectively use Aziraphale to support his weight. “I’ll follow you, we’ll go together!”
“I worry the appropriate amount, thank you very much.” Aziraphale huffs primly. “Crowley you can hardly stand, just wait here for me, we’ll both be better off for it.”
“Not me, I’ll be bereft!” Crowley gestures wildly and nearly dislodges himself but he recovers well enough with a quick adjustment of his footing. “Without my Angel to guide me, I’ll be hopeless.”
“… your Angel ? ” Aziraphale says it so softly, so gently that Crowley almost doesn’t hear him.
“Absolute- yeah ‘course you are, I don’t like the rest of your lot, full and complete offence very much intended. Who else would it be? None of them are worth a fraction of you, you’re- I mean you’re just so-“
Crowley leans further forward so he can get a proper look at Aziraphale’s face without breaking their odd not quite embrace, it ends up with Crowley more than half leaning on the Angel’s wings, chest pressed firmly against the length of his back as he tilts his head around to rest his chin on his shoulder.
“Aziraphale you’re-“ Their breath intermingles and Crowley loses his train of thought immediately, he had lovely things to say he swears he did but his eyes are drawn to Aziriphale’s soft expression, the tension in his brows, the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “ Angel. ”
“Sober up, right now.” The firmness of his tone effectively breaks Crowley from his reverent drunken staring.
“What, why?” The thought hadn’t even crossed the demon's mind, he almost forgot his lightheadedness only came partially from his closeness to Aziraphale. “No, why?”
“Just do it.” That was the Angel’s commanding voice, his ‘ do it right this instant or I’ll be cross with you’ voice. “Now.”
And really who was Crowley to deny Aziraphale anything.
“Nhhgg fine yep sobering up.”
It takes a moment to get his bearings enough to actually go through with it, drinking this much hadn’t been the initial plan so he hadn’t had sobering up on his mind, still after a few unpleasant seconds where the soft haze is gone but the spinning remains Crowley kicks the last of the booze and he’s clear headed again.
Well that was all a little too genuine wasn’t it? It's the first sober thought he’s had in several hours and without the mask of intoxication he can really appreciate how embarrassing this all actually is. Still he cleared the booze from his system for a reason, may as well find out exactly why.
“Sober, what’s the matte-“
Firm soft lips press against Crowley’s own and effectively shut him up before they almost immediately retreat again.
“Sorry!” Aziraphale apologises just as Crowley’s brain catches up and processes the fact that the Angel had kissed him. “I just- you were being so nice and I couldn’t help it.”
“Shut up.” Crowley surges forward and returns the favour by shutting him up with a kiss of his own, the angle is bad and the wings are definitely in the way but Crowley can’t bring himself to pull back enough to remedy that. “I’m not nice, or good, or kind.”
“That’s patently untrue.” Aziraphale feels strongly enough on that fact that he breaks the kiss entirely to speak, and Crowley being the wily demon that he is, decides to use it to his advantage.
“You’re the only one who’d dare say that aloud, Angel.” Crowley slinks around to get in front of him. “There could be consequences, I’m a demon for a reason you know.”
They stare at one another for a long moment and Crowley suddenly feels a little bit exposed without his glasses, Aziraphale for his part looks completely comfortable and at ease which only makes Crowley squirm more half from the sudden nerves and half because confidence really does suit his Angel terribly well.
“Certainly a demon, and certainly tempting-“ Aziraphale’s answer is teasing and coy and gentle hands reach out to pull Crowley forward. “But also loving and helpful.”
“Nhgmh-“ Crowley can’t form words. His hands find their place on Aziraphale’s chest, which wow, and then Aziraphale’s hands find their place on Crowley’s waist, which yeah definitely wow.
“Or perhaps you’re just good to me? good for me, good with me.” Aziraphale punctuates his statements with brief pecks to Crowley’s cheek and it’s almost as infuriating as it is endearing. “That’s a bit of an ego boost isn’t it?”
“Careful Angel.” It’s a warning to both of them, once they cross this line they can’t go back. “You’re starting to sound like you care about the opinion of a lowly demon such as myself, my my what would Heaven say?”
“Politely-“ Aziraphale says in a way that suggests what he’s going to say next is about as far from polite as you can get. “Heaven can go fuck themselves, they gave you up. I’m hardly going to trust their decision making skills after such an obvious blunder.”
“Blasphemy Angel!” Crowley is beyond tickled by that particular declaration, he can feel himself blushing, that bubbling fizzy feeling is back again and much more obvious without the alcohol clouding his mind. “Questioning heaven like that!”
“Perhaps, but really what a horrible choice they made. Still I suppose we don’t need them.” Aziraphale’s hands gently drift along Crowley’s sides, tracing the seams of his jacket. “You’re heavenly all on your own.”
And really Crowley just has to kiss him for that; to satisfy the frantic fluttering in his gut and to shut the Angel up before he says something else world shatteringly kind.
It’s more aggressive than their initial kisses which have been up to this point an almost innocent pressing of closed lips, but now after the first firm pressure Crowley decides to get his tongue and teeth involved and judging by the soft noise Aziraphale makes and the immediate tightening of his grip on Crowley’s waist the Angel doesn’t mind one bit.
It’s electric, almost literally, Crowley is sure he sees a few of the shop's lights flicker out of the corner of his eye but he has an armful of Angel and he can’t bring himself to care. This feels good and monumental and inevitable and ineffable.
Aziraphale tugs at his waist and with another display of strength that has Crowley’s knees going a bit wobbly he lifts him straight up and moves to sit on the couch with the demon now firmly in his lap.
Crowley can’t breathe, not that he needs to really but it’s a decent companion to the other desperate feelings he’s currently experiencing, his hands claw at Aziraphale pulling him as close as possible. Seeking warmth and comfort and closeness, he reach back and grabs the spot right where Aziraphale’s wings meet his back.
“Crowley!”
There’s a rather monstrous crash as Aziraphale’s wings flare out and back hard, knocking over a bookshelf in the process.
They separate at once, both breathing heavily despite the fact that neither of them actually need to breathe, the silence stretches on.
“So…” Crowley drawls.
“So…” Aziraphale replies.
“What was that about?” Crowley winces at his own incredulous tone.
“Well I could be asking you the very same thing, you were all over me.” Aziraphale gestures hautly between them. “Very touchy.”
“Me?!” Crowley feels himself scowling, unable to deny it. “All over you?!”
“Yes you wouldn’t stop touching me, or my wings.” Said wings give a weak flutter, a bit like a nervous twitch. “There was a lot of wing touching specifically.”
“Your wings are a part of you.” Crowley narrows his eyes, he feels like he’s missing a puzzle piece but it’s very nearby and he’s probably accidentally covering it with the box or something. “You didn’t need to single them out.”
“This isn’t- what I mean to say is this isn’t-“ Aziraphale flounders for a moment before he sort of deflates like a sad balloon. “ Just because of my wings is it?”
“What? No, of course not.” Crowley is absolutely affronted. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know! You never expressed an interest before now?!” His wings stretch up and out almost an exact mirror of his flailing hand motions. “I thought it may be the sheer novelty of it.”
That sends Crowley into a fit of laughter. “You’re joking right? Must be, surely.”
“No! This is no joking matter, Crowley.” The Angel sounds genuinely upset and that gives Crowley pause. “I do hate misunderstanding jokes.”
“Ghghh this isn’t a joke, it’s- ghrrg this would be so much easier if you hadn’t asked me to sober up.”
Without the haze of intoxication talking is hard and Crowley is likely to say the wrong thing which is also just as likely a possibility when he’s drunk but at least then he has an excuse.
“I wasn’t going to kiss you while you were under the influence.” Aziraphale frowns at the mere suggestion of it. “It wouldn’t have been right, to-to push myself on you like that.”
“You probably wouldn’t’ve had to, I was near initiating it myself.” Crowley can’t quite look at him when he admits it.
“Really?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows practically reach his hairline. “Really?”
“No, I just climbed into your lap for purely platonic reasons.” Crowley rolls his eyes and only flushes a little when he realises he’s still very much sitting on the Angel.
“You very well could have.”
“Okay well I didn’t, it was very much a romantically charged lap sitting.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale looks like he’s just discovered a new antique book but it’s somehow in a language he doesn’t speak. “Gosh really?”
“Yeah, so either tell me you liked it or let me go drink myself into a dark pit to forget about the embarrassment.” Crowley begins to stand only to be held firmly in place by gentle angelic hands.
“I liked it!” Aziraphale is quick to admit. “I like you! I just- I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Yeah me neither.” Crowley isn’t ashamed to admit. “This is new.”
“Really? I thought your sort were very into…relationships of a kind.” Aziraphale makes himself blush. “You know…”
“I hardly fit in with my lot, only relationship I ever bothered maintaining was ours.” Crowley is maybe a little embarrassed to admit that. “You’re important…to me.”
“This’ll be a new journey for the both of us then! Oh wonderful.” Aziraphale smiles brightly and pats Crowley’s side fondly, almost possessively. “I look forward to exploring this with you dearest.”
Crowley’s brain practically short circuits, they’ll both- Aziraphale wants to- with Crowley?! He cares for him in a way he feels safe admitting to now that they’re free?
“So you want to- you think we could? Be -you know- Boyfriends, Girlfriends, partners?” Crowley can’t find the words that encompass it all. “The two of us? Just us.”
“ Us .” Aziraphale says with those loving watery eyes and frowning smile and Crowley loves him, and probably has since before love was invented. “Yes I think so.”
“Ghgg can I kiss you again?” Crowley is already leaning in just to bask in the closeness. “Please.”
“Yes absolutely, but first would you be so good as to help me pick those up?” Aziraphale glances back at the fallen bookshelf and the many many scattered books it housed prior to its fall. “After all it was your fault as much as it was mine.”
“Ghgg fine.” Crowley doesn’t move.
“Good.” Aziraphale doesn’t move either.
The world holds it’s breath.
“Maybe one kiss first-“
“Perhaps one- yes good, glad we agree.”
The bookshelf gets miracled upright some time the next morning after Crowley has sat perched on the countertop in the makeshift kitchenette that mostly only serves to make tea watching Aziraphale tidy his wings.
One day soon once he knows exactly how the Angel does it Crowley will offer to do it for him; while Aziraphale makes them both a cup of tea or while he eats his breakfast, or while he reads a book. Yes, Crowley is quite liking the look of forever after all.