Aziraphale helped Crowley on the short walk back to the bookshop, miracling him a cane. The sun warmed him taking the sting out of the burning going on inside. Anytime people stared a bit too long the demon hissed at them.
"Really dear, just ignore them," the angel told him affectionately.
"What did you do about the hotel?" Crowley ground out, containing the urge to cry with relief as they finally reached the front doors of the bookshop.
"Just a misunderstanding, no snake. You were fine and nothing to worry about."
"And they believed you?!"
"No one wanted to check after the maid fled so it was only she who saw you," Aziraphale shrugged."Now down here or upstairs? I can get us both up there easily enough."
"I can get myself up there," Crowley grumbled.
The angel wanted to argue but thought it best just to be there when he fell. "As you wish," he assented. "On three. One, two, three."
Both appeared by the worn sofa, Crowley swayed on his feet as dizziness hit him full force.
Aziraphale steadied him, holding him for a moment longer than was necessary. The demon didn't move, just rested his forehead on the angel's shoulder and sighed.
"Alright?" Aziraphale queried, a hand rubbing up and down Crowley's back in a soothing way. He felt an almost imperceptible nod before Crowley spoke.
"Need to sit down," he breathed out, as if he almost dare not say it out loud.
"Of course, dear." Reluctantly he stepped back a little allowing him to almost collapse onto the sofa. "Can I get you anything?"
"Alcohol. It helps numb off the edges."
With a nod Aziraphale retrieved a bottle of wine, a bottle of whiskey and glasses.
Crowley raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't sure which you wanted."
"All of it." He grinned earning a smile from the angel in return.
"So, hibernation as a snake."
"Well, people tend to leave you alone if you're a snake."
"You mean you can hide," Aziraphale challenged, sitting down beside him.
"I don't hide." Crowley shifted in his seat, feeling very uncomfortable.
"Oh really?! So you haven't run away from me 3 times in the last week because you didn't want to have a conversation?"
"Well, I wouldn't say I ran away.."
"Then what would you call it?" the angel snapped.
Crowley's jaw twitched as his fingers rubbed together.
"Don't you dare!" Aziraphale grabbed his thumb, preventing any clicks to miracle himself away. "We either talk about it or….. we never speak again."
"What?!"
"I can't do this Crowley!" he cried. "I can't keep chasing after you, worrying about you, feeling the way I do about you while you hide at every turn. If that's how it's going to be it'd be better for us to go our separate ways."
Crowley's mouth bobbed.
"It's not fair."
The demon sat silently. Aziraphale was right. Of course he was right. Problem was that he didn't know how to behave or how to deal with things like this. He cleared his throat. "Right." He downed his whiskey. "Sorry. You're right. Of course you're right."
Aziraphale refilled the glass without question.
"Thing is…" he downed another glass. "I don't know…. I mean I'm not good at this…. stuff."
The angel sat silently waiting for him to continue.
"Ngk…I'm a snake and a demon but the snake wins out. My go to solution is to retreat."
"Yes, I've gathered. I did some reading on snakes."
Crowley looked at him, eyebrows raised to his hairline. "You read up on snakes?"
"Of course. I wanted to understand."
A lump formed in his throat and his chest tightened. "You wanted to understand?" he croaked.
"Yes. You're the least confrontational demon I know."
"How many do you know?"
"Well just you really, but from what I understand of others, they're not adverse to causing trouble and thrive in confrontation."
Crowley cleared his throat and shifted in his seat again. "Agreed."
"So in my experience you would rather run away than face things, which isn't always a bad thing, I mean it's kept you alive until now, but dealing with this," he waved a hand between them, "I mean we helped prevent Armageddon, you didn't run from that though you wanted to. Dealing with us isn't going to kill you."
"It could kill you though."
Aziraphale stared at him.
"What if you Fell because of me? I can't have that on my conscience."
"My dear Crowley," the angel started.
"No. You don't understand what it means. You don't know what it's like."
"So tell me."
They stared at each other for a moment before Crowley groaned, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses before raking his hands through his hair, grabbing it in handfuls. "I don't think I can ever properly explain how horrific it is."
"Please try."
"Centuries burning in boiling hot sulphur. Tortured to the point where you wished you'd just be extinguished. And it's a pain that never goes away. There's always this burning sensation inside that flares when you're summoned or when the boss comes to visit. It's all consuming for me. The others don't seem to have the same reaction."
"You're not like the others," Aziraphale stated. "You have a conscience, you have a soul. You have a heart Crowley. These are all things none of them down there have."
"Including wings," Crowley said dryly, taking another gulp of whiskey. The alcohol was helping soothe the fires under his skin, the pain ebbing and shrinking with each sip.
"Indeed."
The pair looked at each other. Aziraphale could just see the amber glow through the dark of the demon's glasses and the twitch of his jaw as he ground his teeth, trying to summon the courage to continue.
"I don't remember who I was because I don't want to. She cassst me out, threw me away because I asssked questions, because I didn't just accssept Her words. She testsss people to destruction. How can that be right? How can she allow so much horror in the world? Ssso much pain? And it's the good ones that She tortures. How can anyone know what's right anymore? Why would I want to remember my part in Her plan?" Crowley's voice was so low and full of sadness and pain that Aziraphale found his eyes stinging, the hiss betraying the demon's emotions.
"But if you don't remember, how do you know why?"
"I clung to that and allowed the rest to slip away as I burned. I suppose to try and stay sssane. To maybe retain part of myself, to prevent me from becoming something I'd hate. Didn't do a very good job," he snorted, rolling his head to stare at the ceiling.
"Do you remember who you became?"
"After 6000 years of running away it becomes a bit hazy. I don't even remember how long ago I fell or how long I burned for, you lose count after the first century or so." He cleared his throat. "They wanted me to make trouble and turned me into thissss. There was no real plan. Jussst left me to try to pisss Her off. I became Crawly then Crowley. Anyone I was before that just dissolved. And then I met you, over and over. My Heavenly counterpart."
"Not quite so Heavenly now by all accounts," Aziraphale smirked.
"Well if you will go round thwarting great plans and summoning demons… go on. Tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"What you've been dying to tell me since Tadfield. Who did I become?"
The angel looked at him for a moment before getting up and walking to his bookcase to retrieve a very battered tome.
Opening to a page he placed the book on Crowley's lap.
Hesitantly the demon looked down and frowned. There were so many words on the page they all seemed to scramble together. He swallowed, choosing his words carefully. "I'm uh, I'm not very good with this kind of thing," he told him, waving his hand over the pages.
"You're not good with reading?"
Crowley cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's the er," he sighed. "It's the eyes. Great for seeing in the dark, great for picking out people in a crowd, brilliant at seeing temperature changes. Not great for focusing on lots of small words."
It hadn't occurred to Aziraphale that Crowley's eyes wouldn't work the same way despite them being so obviously different.
"Oh, right. Of course. How rude of me. Here." He took back the book and moved closer to the demon so that he was pressed up beside him, able to show him where he was reading from.
"'The fallen angels are named after entities from both Christian and Pagan mythology, such as Moloch, Chemosh, Dagon, Belial, Beelzebub and Satan himself. Following the canonical Christian narrative, Satan convinces other angels to live free from the laws of God, thereupon they are cast out of Heaven,'" he read. "Obviously in different cultures you have different names. But we thought maybe you were Belial."
"And you came to that conclusion because?"
"Well because he was known as rebellious and lawless. Without a master."
"Hmm. That's fair I suppose. So this guy is what? Why is that exciting to you?"
"He was one of the original fallen angels, one of the seven Princes of Hell. Beelzebub said it; you were Satan's favourite, you could have helped rule Hell but you chose to shy away from it. That makes you extraordinary."
"It really doesn't. It makes me a coward."
"You really do not see yourself clearly. You defied Hell to prevent the end of the world. How is that cowardly?"
"Because if war had gone ahead it would have been a nightmare. I would definitely have died and the world would be a shell."
"You could have died trying to save it."
"I could have died for saving you all those times but they weren't paying attention."
"Which proves my point rather than negates it! Crowley. You aren't a coward, you're not unworthy and you're not evil. If you were, walking through that blessed doorway would have killed you outright. But you fought back and you survived long enough for us to help. You survived falling against my sword for Heaven sake! You are extraordinary."
They stared at each other for the longest time, neither daring to breathe. Eventually Crowley watched as Aziraphale moved the book to the coffee table and took hold of his hand. Taking a deep breath the angel kissed him delighting in his demon's response.
"Angel," Crowley gasped against his lips. "You might Fall."
Resting his forehead against the demon's, Aziraphale chuckled. "If I was going to Fall, I imagine it would have happened when I summoned a demon. Or perhaps during the nights of impure thoughts I've had about that demon."
Crowley blushed, lost for words.
"Now. I'm not expecting you to declare your undying love for me. But," he licked his lips out of nervousness, "is there any chance that you feel like you might want to explore whatever it is we have?"
The demon gulped and nodded. "6000 years in the making," he replied, his breath ghosting along the angel's lips. Cupping the back of his neck, he pulled him back in, kissing him as if his life depended on it.
Aziraphale's hands ran up Crowley's chest causing him to flinch and pull away.
"Oh! Oh my. I'm so sorry my dear."
"S'fine," he breathed.
"When was the last time you looked at them?"
Crowley shifted his gaze away.
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and huffed. "Right. Shirt off. We might not be human but our bodies are still susceptible. And with Hell being as unpredictable as ever we need to keep on top of these things."
With shaking fingers, the demon unbuttoned his shirt grateful for his glasses hiding the fear in his eyes.
The angel knelt on the floor, between his legs to inspect the wounds that marred Crowley's body. He felt the muscles in Crowley's thighs jump as he rested his hands on them, leaning in to get a better look.
"Well they're definitely healing but they could do with a clean. Would you like me to do it here or would you like me to run you a bath?"
The question posed a dilemma for Crowley. On the one hand a bath gave him privacy but there was always the risk he wouldn't be able to get back out without causing himself more trauma. He was very aware of the alcohol numbing the pain but he also knew another miracle tonight and he'd be wrung out.
On the other hand, having Aziraphale help meant the angel would be between his legs, touching him and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide certain reactions his proximity would elicit from him.
Crowley cleared his throat. "If I get in a bath I won't get back out," he gulped.
"No of course. I'll be as gentle as I can, dear." Aziraphale smiled.
"Just… don't judge me on… well." He shifted as he felt a flush rise on his face.
The angel's smile grew. "Never dear boy." He miracled up some water, disinfectant and cloth and set about seeing to the injuries.
Crowley tried to keep as still as possible, holding his breath and trying to think of anything other than the angel being between his thighs. He seemed to be taking forever when in fact it had only been a matter of minutes.
Rising on his knees, Aziraphale moved from Crowley's stomach and sides to the one on the centre of his chest and felt the demon watching him intently through his glasses. He looked up and saw the tense line of his jaw, the tendons pulsing as he ground his teeth and the glow of his eyes.
"Crowley. You don't need to hide from me anymore," he said softly. A little thrill went through him as the demon reached up and slowly removed his glasses revealing dilated pupils, something Aziraphale had never seen on him. The angel smiled as their eyes met. "Alright?" he asked.
Crowley nodded mutely, swallowing heavily.
Aziraphale was aware of the bulge growing in the redhead's lap but made no acknowledgment of it, instead he finished up and returned to sit beside him on the sofa.
The demon's breathing was ragged as he reached to button his shirt up but he looked at the blonde beside him and was drawn in. He grabbed Aziraphale's lapels and pulled him close, their lips met for a third time and a sigh escaped but neither was sure who it came from. Hands tangled in hair and ran over shoulders and down.