Disclaimer: I don't own Good Omens in any of its incarnations. Duh. It'd have 900% more angst otherwise. A.N- For the prompt "Dark" - part two will come tomorrow. Sorry, but they are such mirroring prompts, I couldn't resist. The 'earworm' comes from Divina Commedia, Inferno, canto V – where Dante visits the lustfuls. And the translation is my own. :D
Chiaroscuro (part one)
Crowley knows darkness. Intimately. From the soft, velvety embrace of a still starless sky, down to hell's sooty, sulfuric aftertaste...and really, that was the one time, because he's curious. (Why that is looked down upon is still, and will always be, a point of bitter contention.)The signs are entirely unwarranted. It's not like anyone with papillae would go for a second sample.
He might not appreciate a complete duskiness, true. Unlike so, so many others on both sides, absolutes are something he doesn't trust, something that doesn't ring true, even when he pretends to enforce them. But he's learned how to deal. How to ride even the most cloying or stinging wave of umbrae and get to the other side of it, his self intact despite never quite fitting. Never letting anything fill him up so completely he would abandon himself to it.
Why would he? There are almost infinite distinctions to make. A bedroom's shade, he loves. But the inkiest shadows signal the presence of the most dangerous flames. It's not by accident that the morning star reigns in hell. And it's not by chance that Crowley spends as much time as he can justify (and then some) on Earth.
Truth is, he's always fancied himself a bit of an artist. Contrasts heighten beauty every time, in his opinion. Maybe that's why he's so fixated on Aziraphale. Or maybe because he's less of an asshole than the majority of people he's met between heaven and hell. There's that. The only difference between both armies seems to be self-righteous fuckers versus unapologetic ones, sometimes.
That aside – there are darker tones in Aziraphale. Oh, not apparent, no – the angel takes great pains to come across as light and soft and friendly as can be. But if one knows how to look, it's there. Just enough of a shade to make him absolutely irresistible. It's in the way he smiles sometimes, when Crowley has been hanging at the shop and a client dares to come in. Annoyed at having his precious angel time interrupted, Crowley will slither out, fully snake in shape. He usually doesn't even have to pretend to want to swallow the poor soul whole – they'll run away screaming, nine out of ten. And Aziraphale will say, "Oh my," but his eyes will be laughing and grateful, and he'll give him a small smile that's almost...admiring.
It is, most of all, in the way his angel deals with the mafia thugs that regularly make the horrible mistake of trying to bully him. Crowley saw the tail end of it one time, and ever since he's been thirsting to see it all, while going unnoticed (which is almost impossible given the situation). He's afraid that Aziraphale would insist he play the big bad, if he was caught, and while he's definitely not against it as a rule, it would defeat his point.
Because a criminal twice the size of Aziraphale's current corporation hanging on a chandelier in the back of the shop? What a sight. And the angel letting a lot more of his true nature slip out than usual, imposing and fierce, as he warned a near passed-out crook to behave, because he'd be keeping an eye on him? (Not difficult at all to believe, with how many he was currently sporting.) That left Crowley more breathless than he'd want to admit, and wondering. How did it happen? Had Aziraphale caught the man by the nape of his neck, like a disobedient kitten, and carried him all the way to his current position, kicking and screaming and wondering how he could be kept in the air when physics shouldn't allow it? Maybe not bothered with niceties and just miracled the bloke to the place he deserved? Crushed any weapon the poor idiot may have decided to wave around?
His angel might have a thing for playing damsel in distress, and Crowley is always more than willing to go along with that particular game, but he never ever forgets why She chose him. To guard. To protect. And sure, Aziraphale might not currently be still in the Garden. He might always have had a tendency to decide on his own what was worth taking care on, and what not. Obviously, his choices will amaze Crowley to the demon's last day.
His crazy angel helped the humans he was supposed to defend Eden against. Sheltered him against the rain, when just by his black wings it was obvious he belonged to the enemy's side. Even without his sword, Aziraphale could have attacked him. Maybe he would have subdued Crowley for a while, if not outright killed him, and he'd undoubtedly be praised. Instead, right from the start, he'd refused to fight what he – should – have. If Crowley's awed, and flattered, and confused, and has been dealing with an earworm for the past seven centuries ("Amor ch'a nullo amato amar perdona/Love, that to no beloved loving spares") even while he tells himself to stop dreaming... What else could he do?