#The Ineffable Angel (Aziraphale; Main Verse) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-hovel-of-a-nerdy-rabbit · 7 months

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Muriel's playlist hints at Ineffable Juniors?

(This is all in good fun and is just my opinion. You don't have to agree, but please stay and read.)

I know a lot of people have analyzed the living crap out of Aziraphale's and Crowley's playlists, but I really just want to ask if anyone ever wondered about why Muriel received these three songs?

The creators of the playlist knew that other feel-good, peppy songs that start their songs with the letter E and L exist, but they picked three songs that deal with love? All that does to me is make me think that Ineffable Juniors (Muriel x Eric) is in the realm of possibility and not just a crack ship.

Let me just get 'Everyday' out the way. (I'll be more in depth lyrically with the other two, but EVERYONE in this fandom has Everyday practically memorized. I'm just saving time and space.) 'Everyday' is the main song of the S2. It is the clue. It is the jumpstart of Ineffable Bureaucracy's relationship. It is THEIR song of love. It wouldn't make sense for them not to have it in their playlist, but why does Muriel have it? Of all the other characters who are in love, why does Muriel have to be the one to receive this song as well? They deal with concept of love, but they don't truly understand it (if they did why would they need to 'learn' from Aziraphale and Crowley). This wouldn't make sense unless this is more of a hint at Muriel's (possible) future storyline: befriending or falling in love with a demon (likely Eric). 'Everyday' is important because it helped blossom a very unlikely relationship between an angel (Gabriel) and a demon (Beelzebub). For Muriel to have that in their playlist in that context pushes their narrative in that direction, and it doesn't help that the other two songs are just pushing it further.

'Ain't No Mountain High Enough' (shortening to ANMHE for my typing sanity) is a classic love song sung by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. It brings this idea of being invincible while traversing (or willing to traverse) through any terrain to get to the one you love. This is driven home by the first and third verses along with the repeating chorus of the song:

(First) If you need me, call me

No matter where you are

No matter how far (don't worry, baby)

Just call my name

I'll be there in a hurry

You don't have to worry

'Cause baby there

(Third verse) Oh no, darling

No wind, no rain

Or winters cold

Can't stop me baby

No, no baby

'Cause your are my goal

If you're ever in trouble

I'll be there on the double

Just send for me

Oh, baby

(Chorus) Ain't no mountain high enough

Ain't no valley low enough

Ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you, baby

What I think is interesting is second and last verse because you get to see the relationship of the two people in the song (the couple singing to each other). In the second verse, it's revealed that the two of them are loving/binding relationship by recounting a day that defined their relationship.

Remember the day

I set you free

I told you

You could always count on me darling

From that day on I made a vow

I'll be there when you want me

Someway, somehow

Then the last verse brings up the fact that two are now separated but are still in love and WILL go through anything to get back to the other if they're ever needed.

My love is alive

Way down in my heart

Although we are miles apart

If you ever need a helping hand

I'll be there on the double

Just as fast as I can

I could easily say that this could allude to Muriel having a strained or forbidden relationship with a character, yet something else was brought to my attention. ANMHE tells about a pair who is separated after making a connection/promise to one another while still having romantic feelings, but if one were to be in trouble, the other would surely come to the rescue? I don't know about you guys, but that sounds a lot like our other angel/demon couple, the Ineffable Husbands. Now, we have two songs defining both of our canon angel/demon relationships in a playlist for an angel who hasn't even experienced falling/being in love yet, but this final song clenches everything for me.

Every Summertime by Niki is the song that TRULY made me believe in the idea of Ineffable Juniors. I have played it several times and every time I do, I see Muriel and Eric. Let's begin with the first verse:

18, we were undergrads

Stayed out late, never made it to class,

Outer Richmond in a taxi cab

You were sweating bullets on the way to my dad's and oh

You said, "Baby, think we're moving too fast"

The very beginning gives an image of two students (underlings: 37th Scrivner and lesser demon) who are together (in a buddy/soft couple way), but incompetent (Muriel not understanding certain concepts thus proceeding to mess things up and Eric constantly questioning things while also being a punching bag and cowardly). It's only the first two lines and it already screams Ineffable Juniors. The last two lines give scenarios that could likely happen. Eric would be the one nervous from the idea of meeting Muriel's parental figures superior Aziraphale and his demon husband Crowely. Then comes the statement of "moving too fast." Of course the first thing that comes to mind is the 1967 scene in S1, "You go to fast for me, Crowley", yet in the eyes of our juniors, it would be in Eric's character (having more cowardice and less time to plan ahead) to say that if Muriel wanted to be closer. Then there's this imagery of how one would realize their feelings for someone is becoming more than platonic:

And I swear the magnolias flashed a smile

And that's when I caught me hoping you'd stay a while

I will say that second verse is more of "They're growing closer after a while" more than picturing scenarios like the previous verses.

25, man we're missing church

Laugh 'bout everyone we're hating at work

Dinner with your sister and the jokes kinda hurt

Cry the way home, and you're putting me first, oh

Yeah, we just always know what to say

Then we get these lines:

We're strolling down the boulevard

And dancing under streetlights

Every year we get older, and I'm still on your side

Taking a stroll? Dancing? Being on a side with your partner? This, AGAIN, creates connections to Bureaucracy and Husbands, but the couple in the song portray these actions in a setting for younger, impressionable people, hmmmm... like the Juniors? Let's just finish off with the chorus and outro.

(Chorus) Baby, I'd give up anything to travel inside your mind

Baby, I fall in love again come every summertime

My daddy taught me to choose 'em wisely, but you don't have to try

'Cause, baby, I fall in love every summertime

(Outro) Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime

Every day is summertime with you

Questions that I think about when it comes to the Juniors are "if they fell in love or became close friends, how would Aziraphale and Crowley react? Would they be happy for them, or would they try to stop them from going any further out of fear for their safety?" With what happen at the end of the season, I'm personally think it's the later, but then that brought an additional question. "If Muriel was told to stop meeting Eric, would they?" No. The third line of the chorus reminded me how Muriel knew Aziraphale and Crowley were the enemy and yet they still gave unbiased trust and compassion towards them. A low rank angel who is supposed to take every order willingly decided that the enemy is their friend that they can ask questions to. When you start to apply the first, second and last line of the chorus, along with the outro, it draws a picture of a person so smitten with their partner that every time they're with them, they fall in love all over again, so they're willing to disregard the opinions of others just to be with their other half. Muriel seeing both angel/demon couples existing in the same room in S2E6 feeds my thoughts with the image of Muriel, who may or may not know that Eric is a demon (they never met him, and they also didn't know that Crowley was a demon), proceeding to be around him even after being told not to by Aziraphale. If it was worth it for the others, it could be worth it for me.

I could be reaching with some of my claims, so I'll just continue until I reach the moon. However, it is possible for all three songs to be thrown in the playlist for fun, I mean it does have "Get Lucky" and "Everything is Awesome". I'm just a sucker for Ineffable Juniors. I don't care if they don't end up together or anything, but they have to meet at least once as another example of an angel and demon being able to get along. Stories are always played out in threes. Why can't they be the third?

Thank you for reading if you made it to the end. Here's some sketches for your troubles:

#I cant wait to draw them for the PKMN Au #Muriel #eric the disposable demon #muriel x eric #ineffable juniors #disposable duo #good omens #good omens season 2 #neil gaiman #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #aziracrow #beelzebriel #song lyrics

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casimirt · 9 months

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Dear Readers,

Here is a little Ineffable Husband's tid bit called Hot Coco.

The stars were out, the shop was dark, and only the angel and his desk were lit up by the flickering light of candles. Crowley had, on several exhausted occasions, warned the angel against the use of open flames; and Aziraphale had, on each occasion, told him it would be absolutely fine my dear.

The demon hadn't liked that at all. But as he was often reminded, it wasn't his bookshop to be worried about. In all honesty Crowley wasn't worried about any bookshop. Really only this particular one, and really only this particular angel who resided with in it.

Regardless, he was sure Aziraphale could handle the odd candle or two. Yet, before they kissed the top of his curly white head, he rested a small fire extinguisher beside the angels arm chair. They'd be damned if he was to awake to the bookshop aflame for a second time.

Crowley was often the first up to bed, for many reasons. The main one being they liked to sleep a whole lot more than their angelic counterpart. The other being Aziraphale often sat pouring over very old, but new to him, books. Often well into the wee hours of the morning; and on one memorable occasion, for three days straight.

The good thing about being immortal and an angel, is that you didn't need to eat or sleep. Yet eating was Aziraphale's favourite hobby, and sleeping was Crowley's. Though once and a while, they could be caught enjoying each other's respective hobbies. The little angel sat contentedly at his desk, several books splayed out before him, and a notebook sitting nearby. He wasn't focused on one book in particular, rather all of them at once.

As the night drew on, the candles burned shorter and their wax ran down and pooled at the base of their holders. Crowley, who had awoken with the desperate need of water, came downstairs to check on his angelic companion. Slithering down the stairs in his black satin robe, as silently as some kind of mythical beast, they made their way into the front room of the bookshop.

Stacks of books surrounded Aziraphale now, and Crowley thought it best not to disturb him. He had done so on one occasion, back in the late 80's if they remembered correctly. It was the height of the 'valspeak' phase and the angel didn't care for it one bit. He claimed it 'irritated him to no end', but Crowley really knew it was because he couldn't understand it. And that bothered him. So, Aziraphale had spent the majority of that decade, or until that style of lingo was phased out, squirreled away in the book shop. Burning through candles and of course metaphorically, piles and piles of books. Crowley had made the mistake of interrupting an apparently important chapter, and as a result he discovered how good of a shot Aziraphale was. And, that he wasn't opposed to throwing a copy of The Satanic Verses by Rushdie; at his head.

So without a word, Crowley lit new candles and buried their base in the cooling wax of their friends, and gently pulled a knitted rug across the angels stooped shoulders. Without looking up, Aziraphale hummed a little sound of appreciation, and continued scrawling in the margins of his full notebook. To the angel it was a flurry of ideas, interpretations and teased out meanings from great authors from long ago. To the demon, it looked as though a child had tried writing their name for the first time, over and over and over and over and over in the same spit covered, chewed on pencil.

Ah, a cup of water is what they had come down for. Though perhaps their sweet and studious angel would like something to drink also? Crowley settled on a hot cocoa with exactly three marshmallows. They weren't sure why it had to be three, but Aziraphale had always served that many to guests, and in his own. So, Crowley did too. Setting the steaming cup down beside his partner, they made sure to place it perfectly centred on the little cork coaster, just how Aziraphale liked it.

Crowley wasn't sure if he had noticed the cocoa at all, but he knew by morning, when he came to collect the mug for washing up, it would be empty.

A small pat on the shoulder to signal they were off, and Crowley slunk back upstairs to bed. But not before taking one last look at his angel, to confirm the fire extinguisher was indeed close by.

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i-am-having-a-moment-here · 4 years

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The ineffable husbands go to Les Mis!

The main responsible is the Bentley. She’s been a witness to the painful mutual pining for 44 years and at this point she’ll do anything in her power for it to stop. So the moment the show starts being advertized on the radio, she gives Queen a rest and begins to play every single advert she can pick up.

At first, Crowley doesn’t notice it because he’s too busy shouting at pedestrians. He slowly realizes the radio works and thinks it’s a nice change, but doesn’t pay too much attention. When it finally registers, it’s already the day before the first performance and he immediately flashes to the Queen’s Theatre muttering “shitshitshitshit” while doing his best to miracle up two available front-row seats.

Then he shows up in the bookshop doing his best to look nonchalant: “Hey, angel, guess what. They’ve made a musical based on that French book you have so many editions of.” "Oh, really? Le petit prince? How lovely!” “No, it’s the thick one that could’ve killed Goliath” “Les misérables? That’s fantastic! But… but how did they manage to fit... such a long story...?“ “No idea. But if you want to find out, I’ve got two tickets for the premiere.” The way Aziraphale looks at Crowley is almost enough to discorporate him.

Aziraphale puts on his best 1830s attire and is bubbling over all the way to the theatre. The Bentley is extremely proud of herself and doesn’t care about having to do all the driving because Crowley.exe stops working everytime he looks at that gleeful angel.

Aziraphale notices some characters are missing from the handbill, but he assumes there was just not enough space to mention all of them.

He’s shocked by the first song. Jean Valjean and Javert? Already??? What about the bishop’s story???

A man thrown to prison and cast out of society for such a petty crime? Crowley is rooting for Valjean from the beginning. He almost cheers when Valjean steals the silver and he expects the soliloquy to be a villain origin song. He’s never been so disappointed in his life.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale is pulling out a handkerchief. No one has died yet, but he knows what’s coming.

Wait. Is that Fantine working? But what about her friends? What about the nasty men? What do you mean Cosette already exists???

Crowley is so amused by Aziraphale’s confusion that he misses most of Fantine’s plotline. Which is probably for the best.

Aziraphale lets out a low “aaawwww” when little Cosette shows up.

Later on, Crowley will say Master of the house is his favourite songs in the musical. A blatant lie.

Suddenly it’s 1832 and Aziraphale can’t believe it (what about Waterloo? what about the convent? what about Marius’ backstory?), whereas Crowley is all pumped up by Look down.

There’s something wrong with Javert, Aziraphale thinks. Though he remembers having fun reading about him, something about the way he’s portrayed in the musical makes him feel uncomfortable, but he can’t put the finger on it… until, just after Stars, Crowley whispers: “Doesn’t he remind you a little of Michael?”

Crowley immediately adopts Gavroche and Grantaire The Pining Little Shit.

During A heart full of love, Crowley mutters that he doesn’t understand why not only one but two girls are in love with that slushy idiot. Aziraphale smiles and wisely decides not to tell him who Marius reminds him of.

During the pause, Crowley looks so excited about the second act that Aziraphale tries to convince him not to see it: “The next part isn’t that good in the book, you’ll most definitely get bored. Why don’t you go for a walk and we meet at the Ritz when it’s over?” “What? No! I don’t want to miss a second of that kid kicking Inspector Wanker’s ass!” “My dear, I’m not sure it’ll end the way you…” “Shhh! Don’t you dare to spoil the surprise, angel! Besides, you read the book ages ago. I doubt you remember everything that happens.” Aziraphale, who invented the Barricade Days fandom event because he needed someone to grieve with, doesn’t have the heart to argue.

Crowley struggles to keep it cool during On my own. He came here to have a good time and is feeling so attacked right now.

Aziraphale thinks “This rain that brings you here is heaven-blessed” is a beautiful line, but to Crowley it sounds very similar to “fuck this rain and fuck you for coming with it.”

Drink with me is when Crowley starts to realize he should have listened to Aziraphale and wait for him outside.

It doesn’t help that the next song is literally a prayer. Aziraphale steals a glance at him to make sure he won’t burst into flames.

Crowley gasps loudly when Gavroche leaves his last verse unfinished and he gives Aziraphale a horrified “not the kid!” look. The angel nods with tears in his eyes and holds his hand.

Not much later, Crowley finds himself miracling the tears off his glasses. He tells himself it’s that blessed prayer that made his eyes water.

Aziraphale is so deep in grief he can’t doesn’t complain about the missing history of the sewers.

If the line “To love another person is to see the face of God” destroys you every single time, imagine what it does to them when they first hear it.

They’re so affected in the end that nobody jokes about “putting away the sword”.

Bonus: two weeks later, after more than a few drinks in the bookshop, Crowley bursts into tears because “All he did was steal some bread, angel!!” “I know! The French are very sensitive about food! Remember when they almost cut my head off because I ate some crepes? And I intended to paid for them!”

#happy Barricade Day everyone!#this was in my drafts for ages and I decided today was the best day to finish it #headcanons #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands #Les misérables #musicals #Les Mis #my stuff

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isauntervaguelydownwards · 5 years

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love of my life (don’t leave me)

Title: love of my life (don’t leave me) Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley - Ineffable Husbands Wordcount: 2603 Square filled: S5 - Home is where the heart is Rating: T Warnings: None. A/N: Title from Queen’s Love of My Life

Summoning a demon is, by and large, not a thing easily done. Humans - especially such that aren’t well-versed in the occult learnings - need a ritual, preferably tailored for if not the demon in question at least the kind of demon they want to summon; they also need a sacrifice, or rather the blood of an animal (if you don’t want to do the sacrificing of the animal yourself, storebought is fine), fifteen candles in staggered sizes, a diagram drawn by hand in the worst kind of chalk money can’t buy, and a big heaping dose of faith that the ritual will work. It’s still about fifty-fifty anything at all will happen, and the chance of a demon, any demon, appearing is about five percent. If the demon being summoned is having a very bad day, the chance increases to seven percent.

It’s really not favourable odds.

If, however, the one doing the summoning is another occult or ethereal being - i.e. if it’s an angel or another demon - the chances of managing to summon the very demon they’re aiming for is as close to hundred percent as it can get without actually being hundred percent - the summoned demon can, of course, resist the summoning.

What you, as an occult or ethereal being wanting to summon a demon, need is this: concentration, and a genuine want to see the demon in question.

Aziraphale, who almost always wanted to see Crowley, usually had to make quite an effort to not summon him at the drop of a hat. That concentration went straight out the window when Aziraphale was drunk, hardly surprising, which never really posed a problem, since Aziraphale and Crowley always got drunk together.

However, the night this whole story properly starts, disregarding the six thousand years of build-up and two months of anticlimax since the Armageddon’t, Aziraphale was for the first time since he and Crowley started their Arrangement getting very, very drunk, while very alone. Very drunk was a bit of an understatement, absolutely sodden, entirely soused or, for that matter, suffering a blood alcohol content level that would have killed five humans instantly is a more accurate description.

The thing with Aziraphale (and indeed Crowley, even if that isn’t at that moment applicable) is that he gets very maudlin when drinking alone, and the drinking seems to entirely obliterate his self-control.

That was why Crowley was, at that moment in time, on his way into a bookshop in SoHo. He’d been Summoned. It deserved the capital letter, since he hadn’t actually been summoned by this particular being since the French Revolution, at which point the angel had been imprisoned, awaiting a beheading.

Understandably, Crowley was more than a bit nervous about what awaited him inside the shop. He’d envisioned everything from the legions of Hell having come after him, to the shop once again being on fire. Finding Aziraphale laying motionless on his back, arms splayed as if he’d fallen from a great height, that only increased Crowley’s fear. Last he’d seen an angel lying like that, had been the Fall.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called when he caught sight of him, letting the door fall shut with a heavy thud behind him. He stopped in his tracks, however, when Aziraphale started flailing around, attempting to get off the ground.

“Crowley! You’re here!” The angel slurred every word heavily, giving up his attempt to get up when he only managed to turn on his side, but his main objective - seeing Crowley - was achieved.

“Course I’m here, angel,” the demon replied, sauntering over to where the angel was laying, reaching a hand down to help him up. “You summoned me, remember?”

“Oh, did I, did I really?” Aziraphale said, stumbling over his words more than Crowley had ever heard him do before. When Aziraphale grabbed his hand and heaved himself up onto his feet, Crowley expected him to let go immediately to brush himself off, as he usually did if the two of them ever touched.

Not so that day. Instead, Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hand ever tighter, using the hold to drag the demon into an embrace. Before Crowley could gather his bearings again, he had a very drunk angel hanging around his neck, blond curls brushing his cheek as Aziraphale nuzzled his neck.

Crowley wasn’t entirely certain what to do with his hands, keeping his arms out to the side, but Aziraphale only continued nuzzling his neck, seemingly not noticing how stiffly Crowley held himself.

“Angel? What are you doing?” Crowley had to ask when it seemed like Aziraphale wasn’t planning on stopping whatever it was he was doing.

“I just,” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley couldn’t stop himself from shivering when his breath brushed his neck. Aziraphale pressed himself closer, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck, leaning most of his weight on the demon. “I just wanted to… to see you, and tell, tell you I love you.”

Crowley froze, and straightened up as if someone had taken hold of his shoulders and pulled. He managed to get his hands between Aziraphale and him, pushing the angel away from him.

“What.” Almost managing to convey his disbelief with his voice, he held his hands up, backing away from the inebriated angel. Aziraphale, in turn, looked dazed, trying to follow him. “Stop that.”

Aziraphale did stop, looking so bereft Crowley was ready to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness for whatever he’d done, but what Aziraphale had said and was doing was so far from his usual behaviour Crowley had genuinely started wondering if the angel had been discorporated and his usual corporation was now being possessed by a demon.

“I love you?” Aziraphale said again, tone of voice the same as someone trying to explain something obvious. “I’ve loved you since, you know, that time in that church, the church with the books?”

Hearing that, Crowley felt rather like every single dream he’d dreamt for the past six thousand years had just come true, until it hit him again just how much Aziraphale was slurring his words, and he realised exactly how drunk the angel actually was. Crowley hadn’t seen him this drunk since the Library of Alexandria went up in flames.

Taking a deep breath, swallowing in disbelief of what he was about to do, Crowley snapped his fingers. When Aziraphale collapsed where he was standing, Crowley was there to catch him. Knocking him out was the thing Crowley would hear about for the rest of his supernaturally long life, but hopefully - especially since Crowley neglected to sober him up - Aziraphale wouldn’t remember anything of the night.

Knowing Aziraphale didn’t have a bed, Crowley put him on the couch, tucking a blanket around him. Stroking the blond hair out of his face, Crowley smiled sadly down at the passed out angel.

“I want nothing more than that to be true, angel,” he murmured, letting himself stroke the impossibly soft hair again. “But not like this.”

When Crowley walked out of the bookshop, door locking itself behind him, he couldn’t help but be thankful that he was alone. Thankful that there wasn’t anyone around to see him take his glasses off, take a deep breath and wipe at his eyes before getting into the Bentley.

When Aziraphale woke the next morning, it was to a splitting headache and the unmistakable feeling of something being very, very wrong. He sat up, groaning, barely aware of an unfamiliar, tartan blanket falling off of him. Holding a hand to his head, in what felt like an attempt to stop it from splitting, he made a Herculean effort and managed to sober himself up. With one last whimper, he managed to get rid of the nigh-on awe-inspiring hangover, too.

“How much did I drink…?” Aziraphale said to himself before swinging his legs off the couch. The blanket still pooled in his lap, he took a moment to collect himself, fingers going up to massage his temples. He stilled, however, when images from the night before suddenly came back to him. Summoning Crowley, hugging him, nuzzling him - and then telling him...

“Oh, Lord Almighty, what have I done?” he fretted, burying his head in his hands. The headache he’d managed to rid himself off came back with a vengeance. He had to make this right - maybe Crowley would never again want to speak with him, but he had to explain himself at least. Crowley deserved that much (and much, much more, if Aziraphale was being honest with himself - and the situation at hand really necessitated honesty).

Getting himself in order to go out and make his way to Mayfair didn’t take one-tenth of the time he spent trying to work up the courage to actually go. Patting the blanket after absentmindedly folding it up, he realised just what it was that was so familiar about it. The whole thing was interwoven with a very familiar, much-loved demonic essence. Staring at the blanket, folded over the back of the sofa, Aziraphale was struck with an epiphany, and in hindsight, he couldn’t understand how he’d missed it. Crowley loved him too.

With a new spring in his step, Aziraphale made his out of the bookshop, heading for Mayfair.

Crowley did, rather decidedly, not have a spring in his step when someone started incessantly banging on his door. He’d just gone to bed in preparation for another century-long nap - not for any particular reason, you understand, he just felt like it. Nothing to do with a certain angel, absolutely not.

Opening the door to see that the angel in question - that is, the angel he absolutely was not avoiding - was the one who was banging on his door, Crowley just took the easy way out; he shut the door in Aziraphale’s face.

An epic battle of will proceeded to play out in the hallway outside a flat in Mayfair, that day; the participants were Aziraphale, who really wanted the door to open, Crowley, who really wanted the door to stay shut, and the door in question, who didn’t really care one way or another but would really prefer it if the two occult beings stopped tugging it back and forth.

Crowley’s will for the door to stay closed proved just a little bit stronger than Aziraphale’s will to open it, so when the door stayed resolutely closed, Aziraphale sank down to sit on the floor, leaning his back to the door. With a thump, he let his head fall back and rest against the door, too, unknowing that Crowley was sitting in an identical position on the other side of it.

“Crowley, if you can hear me… I am very sorry for last night,” Aziraphale said, hesitantly. Quiet reigned for a very long moment, time almost seemed to stand still, before the reply came.

“Go home, Aziraphale.” Instead of doing what he’d been asked, Aziraphale closed his eyes in relief - as long as Crowley was there to hear him, maybe, just maybe, Aziraphale could make things right again.

“I am home, my dear. No place is home without you, and I’m only sorry I didn’t realise that sooner.” Opening his eyes again, looking unseeingly at the ceiling, Aziraphale could only hope Crowley was still listening and could hear everything he said - and everything he didn’t say, too.

On the other side of the door, Crowley was listening, but couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. It just didn’t add up, what he was hearing and what he’d experienced.

“I am so,” Aziraphale began, stuttering, before going quiet again. “Odd, isn’t it? My entire existence, I’ve worked with words, and yet, now they fail me when I need them the most.”

Picking at a loose thread in his vest, Aziraphale tried to collect his thoughts. In the quiet that fell, he imagined he could hear fabric rustling, a sign of Crowley still being on the other side of the door.

“Humans say that home is where the heart is, have you heard that saying?” Aziraphale paused, hoping that maybe Crowley would reply, give a real sign he was still listening.

Crowley, meanwhile, had pulled his knees to his chest and was leaning his forehead on them, listening to the angel outside the door. He thought he knew where this could be going, but he daren’t believe it actually was happening.

“Home is where the heart is, and - you’re my home, Crowley. You’ve held my heart in your hands for thousands of years, and I just didn’t realise it until so much later…” Aziraphale sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Still leaning against the door, not prepared for it to open, Aziraphale fell over, breath escaping him in a woosh as his back hit the floor. He couldn’t help but notice that, even upside down, Crowley was absolutely breathtaking. He also noticed that while Crowley didn’t look very impressed, the luminously golden eyes, for once not hidden behind dark glasses, showed just how anxious the demon was.

“What are you saying, angel?” Crowley said, still holding the door, just watching as Aziraphale scrambled to his feet. Brushing himself off, Aziraphale took a deep breath before looking up at the demon again, trying to hide just how relieved he was by the nickname. Another deep breath, eyes still locked on Crowley’s, Aziraphale laid his heart at the demon’s feet, hoping it wouldn’t be trampled upon.

“That I love you, dearest, I love you most ardently. I love you like the shore loves the tide, like words love the pages they’re written on, I love you so much I don’t know how to handle it, so I didn’t.” Aziraphale resolutely kept his eyes on Crowley’s, but he was so nervous he didn’t exactly see him - or anything else, for that matter.

He startled, then, when Crowley’s hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking his cheekbone, brushing away tears Aziraphale hadn’t realised he was shedding.

“And you say words fail you, angel,” Crowley murmured softly, fondly, letting the love he’d felt so long shine through in his eyes, loosening the tight reigns he held over the feeling. He saw the instant Aziraphale realised what he was feeling, the sky-blue eyes closing, a reverent look on his face.

“Words will never be able to convey how much I love you, dearest, but I can only try,” Aziraphale said, opening his eyes and meeting Crowley’s gaze head-on. “I’ve neglected to tell you for so long, and I can never make that up to you. How long…?”

“How long have I loved you?” Crowley finished the sentence, quirking a smile at the angel, hand still cupping his cheek. “Since Eden, angel. As long as I have known you, I have loved you.”

Aziraphale reached up to take Crowley’s hand in his own, thumb absently stroking the back of it.

“I’ve been so blind, my darling, and I must’ve caused you such suffering,” Aziraphale said, mourning how much time they had lost.

Crowley took a step closer to him, leaning his head down to rest his forehead against Aziraphale’s, both of them closing their eyes, taking a moment to just breathe together.

“No matter, angel - it seems you’ve got caught up now,” Crowley replied, not opening his eyes, but smiling a fond smile nonetheless.

Aziraphale chuckled lowly, the hand not occupied with Crowley’s sneaking around his neck, fingers curling in the short hair at his nape.

Standing there, in the doorway of a flat in Mayfair, a demon and an angel kissed for the very first time. Outsiders looking on wouldn’t have seen anything more than two men-shaped beings kissing, but for the two, time stood still.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #my writing #mine #type: text #as the saying goes bingo #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #i wrote this in a day so i'm sorry if there's anything weird

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