Chapter Text
Crowley knew from prior experience that getting his hopes up was a bad idea, and yet his deep seated optimism kept encouraging him. Aziraphale liked him. Had asked him to stay. Was still holding his hand when he woke up from what felt like a long nap.
That damn optimistic side rejoiced, insisting that everything would be fantastic now. He’d recover from his injuries, he and Aziraphale would confess their love, and they’d live happily ever after.
But the cynic in him, the part that had been disappointed over and over, still had doubts. His injuries could turn out to be something worse, the dose of holiness too much for his system to handle. Aziraphale might backtrack, scared of change. If something went wrong while they tried talking about their feelings, they might get into a fight and annihilate their longstanding friendship.
More likely, reality would fall somewhere in between those extremes. Crowley would mostly heal up, albeit with a lot of scars and maybe more chronic foot pain. Aziraphale would probably backtrack at least a little, deny that he’d ever hinted at being in love. And they’d avoid the subject forever and remain friends.
So, maybe it would be best to skip a few steps. Start with avoiding the subject forever. Remain friends.
“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale asked, letting go of his hand. Bad sign. “You slept for several hours, although it seemed a bit restless. How’s your pain?”
His feet still felt like they were pressed to hot coals, or maybe like he was standing in lava. An intense burning pain that came and went in waves of misery. “Could be worse. M’ not as tired now.”
“Oh! That’s good, at least.” With a nervous smile, Aziraphale picked up his cup. “Tea?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Crowley’s mouth was dry, and he still felt overheated. Kind of like he’d been running around outside in the summer rather than lying completely still inside the cool bookshop. “How’re you? Okay?”
Aziraphale’s expression froze. He helped Crowley drink, then cleared his throat and looked away towards the bookcases. “Oh, I… I’m okay, I suppose. Still worried.”
Which meant he’d definitely spent Crowley’s whole nap going around in endless circles of self-blame and guilt and fear for the future. Crowley tried to smile, although doing so sent a fresh thudding pain through his head. “Don’t worry. M’ gonna be fine.”
“Mm.” Aziraphale pursed his lips, brow deeply furrowed. “You don’t need to lie to me, you know. I hate when you do that.”
“I won’t if you won’t.” Ah, shit. They really might go down the argument path at this rate.
But Aziraphale smiled a little in response, dampened a cloth, and sponged his face. “Your fever is holding at a moderate level. I do wish it would break, but I suppose this is to be expected given your severe dose of holiness. Did you get a fever after the church?”
“Nuh. At least, I don’t think so. I was sweating, but I think that was more… pain.” He winced, hating himself for admitting it. “I bounced back pretty fast from the church, honestly. But like you said. Dose.”
“Yes, I think so. And I imagine that experience contributed to your feeling that you ought to have…” A shudder went through Aziraphale as he rinsed the cloth. “That you ought to have simply ‘played it cool’, as it were, and gone home to rest and recover. You didn’t expect it to be this bad, did you?”
“Not really, no. And I was actively invested in imagining it wasn’t.” Too bad that had failed so hard at both being cool and imagining that he wasn’t hurt. “Seriously, though. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”
But the idea of getting back on his feet made his stomach twist. Would things just go back to normal with Aziraphale after that? Seeing each other a handful of times per week, going to lunches and concerts and the park? Imagining they didn’t have feelings for each other?
That sounded miserable, but he should try to prepare for the possibility. Aziraphale was fussing over him now, but all this physical contact and talking and stuff would go away. They were both creatures of habit, Aziraphale especially, and they had too much practice keeping a distance. It might be impossible to overcome that habit.
“Well, you don’t have to look so sad about the idea of being fine,” Aziraphale said tartly, laying the back of his hand against Crowley’s brow.
“Nnh. Sorry. Was thinking.” Crowley looked down towards his feet, still slightly amazed that they weren’t smoking. “Do we need to change those bandages?”
The angel’s expression tightened, and he gave a slow nod. “Yes, I’m afraid so. And I’m afraid it will likely be quite painful. I’m also thinking it may be best to apply a cold compress for a while. I don’t think I want to use a miracle to simulate the effect again, since it seemed rather uncomfortable for you.”
“Basically anything is gonna be uncomfortable for me,” Crowley snapped. Aziraphale just looked at him. “Yes, all right, fine. Compress it is, if you promise to talk to me. M’ gonna need the distraction.”
A hint of pink crept into Aziraphale’s cheeks, and he ducked his head. “Oh, I-I suppose that’s true. It might be silly to admit this, Crowley, but I haven’t the vaguest idea what to talk about.”
It did sound silly, but Crowley was at a loss too. Or, rather, he had plenty of things he wanted to talk about. Just hadn’t decided yet if they were a good idea. “We could plan our picnic,” he said, testing the waters.
Aziraphale smiled as he moved down to sit near Crowley’s feet. He touched the bandages, and Crowley grunted as pain flared. “Yes, I think that discussing our picnic options is an excellent idea. Now, you’re not always as invested in food as I am, so you’ll have to tell me what you’re in the mood for.”
He began to unwrap one of the bandages, and Crowley whimpered. His pulse pounded in his temples, headache worsening, and he clenched his fists on Aziraphale’s beloved jacket. “Whatever… you like. I just like watching you enjoy yourself.”
Oh, fuck. Had he just admitted that?
Aziraphale’s hands were shaking, but his smile returned despite Crowley’s twitches of pain. “Well, in that case. I suppose some little sandwiches would be an excellent start. They seem a good picnic food.” He inhaled sharply as he looked at Crowley’s feet, then continued. “And we’ll bring some shortbread, certainly. I know that is one food you like a great deal.”
Crowley whined in agreement, too busy clenching his jaw to respond with words. He shuddered in pain as Aziraphale peeled the bandage away, and hissed sharply once the cool compress settled against his right foot. “Guh, Somebody, that hurts.”
“I presume we ought to pack alcohol as well,” Aziraphale said, voice shaking. His lip was trembling too, as if he was about to burst into tears. He held the compress to Crowley’s foot, other hand resting on his ankle. “You love alcohol. I’ll buy you an excellent scotch. Talisker. What edition would you like?”
Desperate, Crowley seized on the distraction. “The… standard one. The ten year. It’s… got the best peppery…”
Oh, fuck, he might throw up. The nausea swelled as the pain intensified, and it became difficult to breathe.
“Oh yes, that is your favorite, isn’t it? And it’s very peaty, but not in an overpowering sense. Really a marvelous drink.” Aziraphale’s voice went a little high with stress, but he kept talking. “Although, I wonder whether the Distiller’s Edition would pair better with the sandwiches and shortbread. It’s a bit less smoky. I suppose we can test that on subsequent picnics.”
“Wine,” Crowley choked. “Wine sounds like a… picnic thing.”
“Oh, very true! We shall have to start a list, hmm?” Aziraphale flashed a desperate smile at him. The pain was subsiding a little now, though, compress starting to cool the area. “I imagine we could combine an endless supply of picnic foods.”
“And locations.” This was maybe not the best idea—creatures of habit, and all—but Crowley went for it anyway. “There’s loads of places in London, but we could drive out somewhere. Sussex, maybe. The Downs, or beach, or something.”
“Oh, that would be lovely! I suppose we ought to do that before winter. Winter may be a better time for indoor picnics.” Aziraphale gave Crowley’s swollen feet another worried look. “Lots of hot cocoa, mm?”
“Can we add alcohol to the hot cocoa?” Crowley managed a grin, although his head was still spinning. At least the pain wasn’t quite as bad now.
Aziraphale chuckled, shoulders relaxing. “Yes, we can certainly add alcohol to the hot cocoa.”
They bantered and joked their way through the rest of the compress time, although Crowley started feeling pretty sick by the end. He fell silent as Aziraphale bandaged his feet again, gritting his teeth. But one whimper burst out, and then another, and then something closer to a cry.
“Oh, oh, we’re done! We’re all done for now.” Aziraphale rushed back to him and pried one hand loose from the coat, holding it tightly. “There, my dearest, there. It’s okay, Crowley. You did so well, so very well.”
“Guh.” Tears escaped down Crowley’s cheeks, and he struggled to cut them off. Nonono, shit, he didn’t want to make Aziraphale feel even worse about this! He already felt bad enough. And so did Crowley, for taking advantage of his kindness like this. “S’ okay. Don’t worry.”
“I do worry.” Carefully, Aziraphale massaged his hand. “Oh, my dear boy. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” That was easier said than done, though, especially with how much Crowley was stewing in his own guilt. But being ashamed of himself for his lack of coolness wasn’t helping either of them. Was probably just adding more stress. “Hey, angel? Thanks a lot for letting me stay. I gotta admit, this is better than suffering in my flat alone.”
He’d tried to put as much humor into the comment as possible, but Aziraphale immediately teared up. The angel sniffled, gazing down at their hands. “Crowley. My dear fellow. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. You’re so important to… At any rate. You’ve always offered me shelter.”
“Got that backwards,” Crowley said softly. “You’re the one who offered me shelter, always. I’m just late returning the favor.”
“Hardly. Your company, your friendship…” Aziraphale let out a long, shaky breath. “I was often so very lonely, felt very adrift and as if I did nothing right. But you always showed me such kindness.”
“Shut it.”
“No, you did. You’ve always accepted me, just as I am.” Another shaky breath, and Aziraphale’s hazel eyes flicked to him. “I haven’t always accepted you. I’ve… Crowley, I…”
“Shh.” Crowley raised his other hand, touching his fingers lightly to Aziraphale’s lips. “You don’t need to apologize for anything you said during the whole Apocalypse business, okay? It’s all fine now.”
“You apologized to me,” Aziraphale pointed out, almost looking annoyed.
“Yeah, and you forgave me. I forgive you too, for anything.” Was that presumptuous? Coming from a demon, probably.
Aziraphale just stared at him. And then he sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“Ah, shit.” Crowley tried to wipe them away, but his hand was quaking. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Forget about it, yeah?”
“N-no, I shan’t. It’s… Crowley, you are so kind.” Still crying, Aziraphale flicked a hand. “And don’t tell me that you aren’t. You’re wonderful and clever and caring and always so very compassionate to me.”
“Nnnnh,” Crowley protested.
“You are. And I… Oh dear.” Shaking his head, Aziraphale dried the tears, then compulsively smoothed Crowley’s hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about all that right now. You’re not in your right mind.”
Indignation flared in Crowley’s chest, and he mustered the best glare he could. “Excuse me. I am damn well in my right mind, you sanctimonious know-it-all bastard.” That was pretty much the opposite of what he’d hoped to say today, whoops. “I’m in pain, yeah, but I’m not delirious or some shit. And I’d love you just as much even if I was.”
Oh shit.
Aziraphale’s eyes seemed to triple in size. He sputtered, one hand tightening on Crowley’s while the other flailed aimlessly. “Oh. Oh. Oh. I. Um.”
“Sorry.” Crowley covered his eyes with his own free hand, desperately wishing for his sunglasses. “I did not mean to say that. Nh. I mean, I meant to say it, but not like that. Er.”
A high, nervous giggle burst from Aziraphale, and soft fingers tapped the back of Crowley’s hand. “If you’d like to come out from hiding, my dearest Crowley?”
Crowley did not want to come out from hiding. He wanted to crawl deeper into hiding, to shift into serpent form, burrow into the earth, and hide far enough down to be safe from even embarrassment.
But he forced himself to lower his hand, heart racing. Aziraphale wouldn’t toss him out of the shop while he was hurt, not even for saying something like that. But that shit had been the definition of going too fast. “Hhn?”
Aziraphale was smiling now. Beaming, actually. He gave a little wiggle, ducking his head, and gazed at Crowley through his lashes. “I, um. I love you too.”
Relief flooded through Crowley, and he grinned despite the lingering doubt in his chest. Was Aziraphale just saying that to keep him calm, to make sure he rested? “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Aziraphale raised his hand and pressed a tender, sweet kiss to his knuckles. “I have for a long time.”
Oh, thank Somebody. Happy enough that it distracted even from the pain, Crowley squeezed his angel’s hand. “Me too.”
---
The conversation proper still had not happened. They’d awkwardly changed the topic to something safer, launching a debate about different varieties of wine and which paired best with certain meals or occasions and which they ought to try first as a picnic beverage.
And then Crowley had fallen sound asleep. Aziraphale could hardly fault him for it, especially considering how hurt he was, but it was a touch inconvenient. They really ought to talk things through properly.
Aziraphale’s tummy tightened at the thought of that. They ought to, yes, but would they? He wasn’t entirely certain he had the courage to bring it up again, and Crowley would be worried about moving too quickly for him. Perhaps they would just let the matter rest.
That wasn’t what Aziraphale wanted, though. The trouble was, he had no idea what he did want.
He still had no idea what he wanted when Crowley finally woke up. The poor old dear had shifted often, groaning, lines of pain etched into his face. When he opened his eyes after half a day, he looked utterly disoriented and lost.
But then he smiled. “Hi, angel.”
“Hello, dear fellow.” Hesitant, Aziraphale reached out and took his hand. It still felt quite inappropriate, as if he was taking advantage of Crowley. “How do you feel? Please tell me the truth.”
The usual defensive bluster passed across Crowley’s face. But then he sighed, made a face. “Honestly, pretty awful. My feet really hurt.”
“I’m sorry.” In a way, though, the honesty was reassuring. Made it much more likely that he’d actually communicate if his condition worsened. “Perhaps when we change the bandages, I can use a cold compress again. That seemed to help a bit last time.”
“Okay. And yeah, it did.” Wincing, Crowley shifted a little. He must be stiff from lying in the same position. “Guh, I wish I could get up and walk around or something.”
He immediately yawned, and Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “I think that would be unwise for a number of reasons.”
“I know it would be bloody unwise,” Crowley grumbled. He shifted again, then hissed as his feet moved just a little. “Wish you had a telly. We’d watch something.”
“Perhaps I’ll have to get one.” That sounded lovely, curling up together on the sofa and watching something.
If Crowley liked that sort of thing. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure that he liked that sort of thing. He’d never been able to even contemplate it before now. It had been far too dangerous.
He did very much like holding hands, though. He let his thumb slide lightly across the warm skin, smiling down. This was lovely.
Crowley squeezed, only a little unsteady. “M’ glad we’re doing this again. It was really nice on the bus the other day.”
Aziraphale gave him a shy look. So much had happened, and they’d had so little time to discuss any of it. Their time in Crowley’s flat had been rather fraught with stress, with fear. Although Aziraphale was still afraid now, at least they were safe. “I enjoy it a great deal. I suppose we could try…”
Instant guilt wrenched at his stomach. Yes, there were plenty of other things they could try. But it was utterly inappropriate for him to suggest any of them while Crowley was hurt.
“Angel, stop that.” The corner of Crowley’s mouth tipped up, and he tugged on Aziraphale’s hand. “Look, I feel like shit asking you for anything after what you’re already doing for me. But you’ve gotta tell me what you’re thinking. Right now, I’m half expecting you to bolt out the door and never come back.”
“I’d hardly do that. It is my bookshop, after all.” Aziraphale tried to put a humorous air in his tone, but his voice shook. Goodness, he was being silly.
Crowley rolled his eyes. He took a deep breath, then looked to Aziraphale with something bordering on annoyance. “I really wanted to hug you. Back at my flat, when you got scared about whether we could survive.”
“Oh!” Teary, Aziraphale beamed at him. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“Ngh. M’ not sweet, and that’s not my point. Point is…” Frowning, Crowley cut off for a moment. He shifted, winced. “Point is, I’d love to hug you now, but I dunno if you’re gonna freak out if I do because I have no fucking clue what you’re thinking.”
“Oh! Um.” Aziraphale patted his hand compulsively. “I-I quite honestly don’t know what I’m thinking either. I feel as if doing anything would be, well…”
To his surprise, Crowley nodded. “Taking advantage? I’ve been feeling the same way. Wanna talk to you about stuff, but I know you feel guilty, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to say yes. I’m imposing on you enough.”
“You are most certainly not imposing on me!” Aziraphale protested, indignant. “Crowley, I am the one who insisted you stay here. You were hurt because you were protecting me—”
“No, I got hurt because those wankers were going to kill us both! Quit beating yourself up about that.” Crowley managed to muster a good glare, although he was trembling rather badly. Must be exhausted. “And give me a damn hug if you’re okay with it.”
There was indeed no way Aziraphale could say no to that request. Luckily, he had no interest in saying no. Instead, he bent down and very carefully wrapped his arms around Crowley.
A flood of contentment went through him, and he pressed his face into Crowley’s damp hair. Crowley’s arms snaked around him, fingers digging into his waistcoat. “Hhhn. Angel.”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, closing his eyes. His rapid heartbeat slowed, and the anxiety eased. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted overall, but this and hand holding were high on the list.
He held Crowley for as long as his conscience would allow, then regretfully drew back. Crowley smiled up at him. “I like that too. We should do it more often.”
“Yes, I rather agree.” Concerned by the bleariness of his eyes, Aziraphale rested a hand on Crowley’s brow. The skin was still rather warm. “Hmm, I think we need to sponge you down again. A bit feverish. And it might not be a bad idea to change your bandages.”
“Gh.” Crowley just gazed up as Aziraphale carefully bathed away the sweat. “You’ve got really nice forearms, did you know that?”
Aziraphale blushed. “Thank you, my dear. You have a very nice… nose.”
Crowley snorted, amusement flashing in his tired eyes. “Thanks.”
“Quite. Um.” Exhaling slowly, Aziraphale sponged his neck. “I did mean what I said, you know. You’re very much not imposing on me. It’s an honor to care for you, my dearest.”
“Nh.” Crowley didn’t sound fully convinced. He gave Aziraphale an almost suspicious look. “And you’re really cool with having, er… that conversation we promised to have?”
Needing to keep his hands occupied, Aziraphale moved down to Crowley’s feet. “Yes, although I’m honestly not certain of what I want to say. You’re so dear to me, Crowley, but I have no experience with this sort of thing. May I tend to your feet?”
“That’s not part of the conversation we promised to have, but yeah.” Crowley offered a weak smile, then hissed sharply in pain as Aziraphale unwound the bandages. He went pale, color draining from his face except in his cheeks. “Somebody’s sake, that still fucking hurts. I really don’t like these burns.”
“No, I imagine not. I’m so sorry it hurts.” Aziraphale was still rather tempted to keep apologizing for letting Crowley get injured in the first place, but wallowing in guilt was not helping with the upcoming conversation. “I suppose more discussion about picnics wouldn’t quite qualify as talking about our feelings?”
“Guh, don’t put it like that.” Although still looking rather as though he might be ill any second, Crowley gave a theatrically unimpressed expression. “Bloody hate talking about my feelings. I know you do too, so… Anyway. Like I said, you’re really important to me. I love you. Have for a long time.”
“Oh, I love you too.” Aziraphale beamed at him, heart lighter despite his worry. It did feel wonderful to say it, after all this time. “I care for you so deeply. When I thought I might lose you…”
He shuddered, distracting himself with an inspection of Crowley’s poor feet. They were still swollen and blistered, but no longer quite as red and raw. And the deep damage to his True Form was repairing too, albeit more slowly. It would be a while before he fully recovered, but he was healing.
“I thought I had lost you,” Crowley said, voice rough with discomfort. Or perhaps it was emotion. “But I didn’t. And you didn’t lose me. I dunno what exactly we’ll do now, but we’re together. S’ all I care about.”
“I suppose that’s true for me, too.” A bit more of the anxiety eased as Aziraphale prepared the cold compress. “The future does feel awfully uncertain, doesn’t it? I-I don’t entirely know what to do now that I’m… free. Now that we’re free.”
It was a rather frightening concept. He distracted himself by applying the cold compress to Crowley’s burned foot and feeling guilty about the sharp noise of pain it elicited.
Crowley had gone silent, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. After a few minutes, he relaxed again. “That really does feel good, after the first blast of ouch. S’ loads better now than it was at the start.”
“Good, good. It’s looking much better, too. I think you’ll heal up quite nicely.” Aziraphale struggled against a wave of tears. Oh goodness, why did he have to keep getting so emotional? “I’m very relieved. I was… I was scared for you, Crowley.”
“I know.” Crowley made a face, hands tightening on the jacket. “M’ sorry I scared you. I guess I probably made it worse by pretending I was fine for so long.”
“Yes, well. Let’s not dwell on the past.” Especially when they had so much future looming over them. “Just don’t do it again.”
Crowley managed a weak smile, then closed his eyes and lapsed into silence. Goodness, he needed more rest.
Aziraphale tended to the other foot next, shuddering at the sight of the burns. They truly were much improved, but still horrible. Crowley would be in pain for several days, certainly.
His fever did seem to be diminishing, though. He was no longer sweating, for the most part. A faint sheen broke out across his brow as Aziraphale bandaged his feet again, but his skin was no longer hot to the touch. This sweating was likely due to pain, then.
“All done,” Aziraphale said softly, moving back to his side. Crowley’s eyes opened for a moment, bleary again, and he gave a little smile. “You look like you’re shivering. Are you cold?”
“Little bit. Guess the fever’s better.” Crowley obediently sipped the tea that Aziraphale held for him, then settled back against the pillows. “I really do wish you had a telly. I’d put Bond on or something.”
An idea occurred to Aziraphale. He hopped up and went to a nearby shelf, searching, and pulled a book down. “What if I read to you?”
Squinting, Crowley studied the book. “Casino Royale?”
“Mhm. And a blanket, here we are…” Aziraphale carefully settled the blanket across his best friend, tucking it in, and then fussed with and fluffed up the pillows. He smoothed hair off Crowley’s forehead, hesitated a moment, and then pressed a kiss to the furrowed brow. “I love you.”
A tired but delighted grin spread across Crowley’s face. “I love you too.”
Aziraphale made sure he was nice and comfy, miracled more tea, and then settled in to read to Crowley. A sense of well-being spread through him. Incongruous with the injuries and the looming future, perhaps, but Aziraphale was finally certain of something. Being with Crowley was indeed exactly what he wanted.
---
Things had settled into a rhythm of sorts over the past few days. Crowley slept a lot, fatigue constantly buffeting him. And the sleep did seem to help—every time he woke up, he hurt a little less. He was healing.
And when he was awake, it was actually pretty fun. He’d always loved hanging out with Aziraphale, and being hurt didn’t diminish that. They reminisced about old times, joked about how freaked out their old Sides must be, and talked about what they wanted to do now that they were free.
Picnics all over the place. Not just their usual haunts, either. They planned picnics for Paris, Florence, even the Moon. Angels and demons didn’t need to breathe, after all, and Aziraphale had never been to the Moon.
Lunches and dinners, trips to favorite pubs, things they might try cooking themselves. They talked about loads of foods and drinks, the stuff that had always been a part of their long friendship. And while they talked, they drank tea. Crowley was still too queasy to actually eat anything.
Aziraphale read to him for hours on end. They were making amazingly fast progress through the Bond series, all the way up to Thunderball already. Just lying still, resting, and listening to Aziraphale’s enthusiastic narration was enough to make up for any pain.
But as the pain eased, Crowley’s anxiety grew. He and Aziraphale had talked on and off about their affection for each other. They held hands a lot of the time now, and hugged occasionally, and Aziraphale sometimes kissed his forehead.
Was it temporary, though? Aziraphale definitely loved him; Crowley was sure of that at least. But their long habit of keeping a distance might reassert itself once Aziraphale didn’t need to fuss over him day and night. It might even be brought on solely by guilt. Might only last a little bit longer.
“I’ll probably be able to move around in a day or two,” Crowley said when Aziraphale paused in his reading to change the bandages again. “The pain’s loads better. Still hurts, but I’m hoping I can sit up soon, maybe even today.”
“Hmm.” Frowning, Aziraphale unwrapped the bandages. Crowley winced, the dull throb firing up again, but at least it faded to dull quickly. “I don’t know that you ought to sit up just yet. The internets say to keep the burn elevated if possible, and you’ve still got quite a bit of damage.”
“Nnnnh.” He hadn’t sat up in days, and it was getting really old. Soreness everywhere, and a deep sense of restless boredom. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Aziraphale studied the burns, then nodded and bandaged them up again. Compresses weren’t necessary anymore. “I think tomorrow ought to be okay. Your swelling is almost gone, and it’s much improved. I just don’t want to rush things.”
That was exactly the problem. Aziraphale didn’t like rushing things. So, once Crowley was healed up… probably back to normal, but maybe with more hand holding.
More hand holding was a huge bonus, of course, but restlessness surged through Crowley at the thought of keeping a distance from Aziraphale. He didn’t want to keep a distance, wasn’t really cut out for it. Now that they could do whatever they wanted, he was ready to careen full throttle into a relationship. Aziraphale, though…
“What’s the matter, my dear?” Aziraphale secured the bandages, patted his ankle apologetically when he jerked and hissed at the burst of pain, then moved back to hold his hand. “You look a bit upset. Is something wrong?”
Crowley almost shoved it down, almost imagined that he was fine. It would be easy. Ignoring physical pain was actually much harder than imagining that he wasn’t completely smitten with Aziraphale, that he wasn’t head over heels in love. For so, so long, he’d had no choice but to pretend.
It would be easy to do that again. He could be happy, even, for the most part. Aziraphale’s friendship mattered more than anything, and risking that was almost unbearable.
But he’d insisted that Aziraphale be honest with him, and Aziraphale had. Going back to hiding things might be the safer path, but it wasn’t the one Crowley wanted to take.
So he pulled Aziraphale’s hand closer, kissed the plump fingers. “Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I’m just restless. Kinda wondering what’s gonna happen next.”
Aziraphale glanced at Thunderball. “Well, I think it’s rather likely that Bond and Felix are going to find that pesky nuclear bomb after all.”
“That’s cheating. You’ve already read it.”
“So have you.”
“My point is,” Crowley interrupted while Aziraphale opened the book with one hand, “we’ve talked about our feelings. That we love each other, can’t live without each other, so on.”
A blush crept into Aziraphale’s cheeks. He ducked his head and gazed up through his lashes, smiling shyly, and the soft expression stole Crowley’s breath. “That’s quite true, my dear Crowley.”
“Right. So. What I don’t know, is what we plan to do next.” Being this direct after so long hiding even their friendship set Crowley’s teeth on edge, but it had always been his job to ask the hard questions. Left up to Aziraphale, nothing much would ever happen. “I dunno if we—”
“You stay with me,” Aziraphale said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, angel. We’ve talked that over. I’m not gonna go running off to my flat as soon as I’m able to walk.”
“N-no, I… I meant that you stay. Here. With me.” Aziraphale’s warm hands folded around Crowley’s, holding both of them tightly. “And-and-and not just while you’re hurt. I’ve been, um… thinking rather a lot these past days.”
Head spinning with shock, Crowley gaped at him. “Ngh. Wait. So, you’re asking…”
“I-I want you to move in with me, Crowley.” Face now bright red, Aziraphale dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “I love you, and I love being together like this, and I don’t want to give it up. You don’t, um, have to say yes immediately.”
“Yes,” Crowley said immediately.
“Oh! You silly old serpent.” Aziraphale gave a delighted wiggle, drew a long breath, and released it with a contented hum. “Oh, goodness. I’m a touch giddy.”
Crowley grinned at him, tiredness banished by joy. “And here I was worrying about going too fast for you.”
“Frankly, I was a bit worried about going too fast for me.” Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley couldn’t help but join in as his remaining worries evaporated. “That’s why I hadn’t said anything yet. But you have always had a wonderful talent for prompting me when I most needed it.”
Previous arguments begged to differ, but Crowley had no interest in bringing those up ever again. That was all behind them, as were their old Sides, and they had nothing ahead but a bright future. “I love you so damn much. You know that?”
“I do know that.” Another laugh, a clear sound that made Crowley’s heart soar. Aziraphale cupped his cheek, fingers warm and soft. “I love you too.”
They moved towards each other at the same time, both reaching out. Crowley still didn’t quite have the strength to sit all the way up, but he didn’t need to. Aziraphale met him, and their lips brushed together in a sweet, hesitant kiss. Just testing, seeing how it felt.
It felt good, a flood of deep contentment washing through Crowley. He curled his hand around the back of Aziraphale’s neck and drew him back down for another, more lingering kiss.
When they drew apart, Aziraphale touched his forehead to Crowley’s, hand still on his cheek. “Oh,” he said softly. “That’s lovely.”
“It’s terrific.” Crowley closed his eyes, letting his fingers sift through Aziraphale’s fluffy, soft hair. Oh, Somebody, he’d wanted to do this for so long. “You’re terrific.”
“You marvelous old flatterer.” The plump fingers caressed his cheek, tender. “I hope this answers all your questions about my feelings?”
“Definitely.” They would probably have more to discuss further down the line, but this was plenty. A good, solid start. “Doesn’t answer my question of what we do now, though. Wish I could sit up so we could try…” He winced at the thought of saying the word, but he forced himself to say it. No secrets now. “Snuggling.”
“Ooh. I do like the sound of that.” Aziraphale pulled back enough to make eye contact, gazing down with soft affection. “But you know, Crowley. I don’t believe snuggling requires being upright. My understanding from all my reading is that lying down together is an ideal position.”
Crowley stared at him, jaw dropping. “Hrgk?”
“Mhm.” Bending down, Aziraphale kissed him lightly again. Crowley almost tried to keep him for a longer kiss again, but that snuggling would probably be an ideal position for that, too. “I don’t imagine you’re quite up to moving over, so I shall miracle the sofa a touch wider.”
It was already pretty wide, but then it was indeed wider. Crowley grinned as his angel settled in, cheeks crimson. “Okay, so maybe being hurt isn’t the worst thing. I get really special treatment when I can’t move. Loads of fussing.”
“You deserve to be fussed over. And besides, I know you shall shower me in all sorts of lovely treats once you’re recovered. All those picnics we’ve scheduled and such.” Aziraphale laid down beside him and pulled the fluffy tartan blanket to cover them both. Then, careful not to bump into Crowley’s feet, he pressed close. “How’s this? Comfy?”
“Yeah, although I wish I could roll over.” Burying his face in Aziraphale’s softness sounded even better, but Crowley shifted enough to rest his head on the well padded shoulder. “I guess we’ll have something to look forward to.”
Aziraphale yielded to a tug on his shirt, turning into the kiss that Crowley was aching to give him. Then Aziraphale snuggled even closer, expression full of love. “I look forward to every single second we spend together,” he said with an earnestness that would have seemed mocking from anyone else.
But from Aziraphale, it was the truth. And so, Crowley found his hand, squeezed, and told the truth as well. “I do too.”