Aziraphale walks quietly towards Crowley's hunched form on the rooftop of the loft, making only enough noise to make his presence known. The demon doesn't move or unwrap his arms from his drawn up knees. Nor does he look up as Aziraphale silently sits down beside him.
"Told you I'd be home later," Crowley finally mutters.
Aziraphale nods. Then he asks, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's just a mood."
Crowley does still have his moods. Aziraphale twists to look at him, and he sees more emotions in the hunched form than Crowley pretends to have. As though it can be hidden from Aziraphale. But if Crowley isn't going to share, Aziraphale isn't going to press. They're silent again for a moment before Crowley finally grumbles,
"How did you find me, anyway?"
"I know your hiding places, my dear."
"Not hiding."
"Very well, I know your brooding places." Aziraphale has an inkling he knows what's going on so after a breath, he continues. "You know, I get lonely too sometimes."
"I'm not lonely!" Crowley snaps with such fierceness that Aziraphale knows he's hit the mark.
"It's quite natural, though. There's not many here who can really understand who we are. We're the only two who've been here from the beginning and it's hard watching the others grow old and slip away."
Crowley shakes his head and props his chin on top of his knees, watching the city below them. It's so full of people, all of them blissfully unaware of the eldritch pair in their midst. "That's not it. I mean, yeah, but no."
Aziraphale waits.
"Just hard sometimes," Crowley mutters. There's something about the cover of darkness that makes it easier to whisper things he wouldn't normally say in the light where he can be seen saying them.
"What is?"
"Knowing you'll never be anyone's first thought."
It's more or less what Aziraphale is expecting, though said with more sadness. He doesn't twist away. Crowley doesn't look at him.
"I don't know," Crowley goes on. "Don't know how to explain it."
"You don't have to," Aziraphale assures him softly. Crowley may hold his cards close to the vest, but he's also absurdly easy to read. "Do you know, I don't think a single angel ever really knew I was there?"
Crowley raises his head and his brow wrinkles in confusion. "What?"
"Oh, they knew I was here. What I mean is, I could have been anyone. I could have existed, or I could have not existed, and it would have been all the same to them. I was just another angel, not... not Aziraphale." He has a feeling he's not explaining things properly. Aziraphale puffs his cheeks out and tries again. "What I mean to say, Crowley, is that of everyone in God's creation, you're the only one who ever made me feel Seen and Known."
"Had to keep an eye on you, didn't I?" Crowley immediately brushes this off, though even in the darkness his cheeks are visibly pinker. "Mortal enemies and all."
"My dear, we haven't bothered pretending that was true in a long time," Aziraphale chuckles. "You do know me better than anyone though, and that's what I mean. You Know me. That's the greatest gift of all. But I'm not sure you understand that I Know you, too."
"Don't know what you're on about."
"You are my first thought, you silly snake," Aziraphale says softly. "As I said, I know your brooding places. I know your moods and I know you get lonely sometimes. I know the way you hiss when you're upset, I know what you think about life and death, and I know what you hope for."
Crowley is staring at him again from behind those dark glasses, silent, mouth just ajar. He seems tense but doesn't move away when Aziraphale carefully reaches up to slide the glasses away so he can see Crowley's golden yellow irises.
"I recognize your eyes," Aziraphale goes on. He brushes a thumb over the snake inked onto Crowley's temple. "I know this tattoo. I know how you shed your look when you want a fresh one. I know your habits and your style and your shortcomings and your gifts. I know you pretend not to care about things, but you do ever so deeply, and I know why. I know you love a bit of mischief, and even if it vexes me I see it and know it and love it because it's you. When I think of anyone, I think of you first because you're the one I Know. I know how it makes you ache to feel un-Seen and un-Known, but you aren't. If there were ten million souls lined up here, I would recognize yours in an instant and I could Name it from memory. I Know you all the way down to your soul, do you understand?"
There's enough moisture built up in Crowley's eyes to spill over so the demon quickly closes his lids instead. Aziraphale cups his face in both hands, softly and gently, and waits until Crowley is ready to look at him again.
"My poor snake," Aziraphale sighs. "How long have you wished you were Seen and Known?"
"From the beginning," Crowley whispers.
"You are, dear boy."
Crowley gives him a watery smile but he sniffles and pulls Aziraphale's hands aside so he can brush the evidence of his feelings away from his eyes. There's a sense of renewal in his posture though, the melancholy slipping aside to reveal the demon Aziraphale knows best once more.
"Seen and Known," he snorts, pretending to be unimpressed. Crowley twists back to watch the world below them, as they had done so long ago standing high on the wall of a Garden. "What is that, your attempt at poetry?"
Aziraphale isn't fooled. He can't be, not by Crowley. He doesn't take his eyes away, smiling softly at Crowley's attempt to be cavalier.
"No, my dear," he replies with perfect content. "That's Love."