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angelicspaceprince · 5 years

Text

Broken Promises

Author: Ama

Title: Broken Promises

Pairing: Poly!Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley

Character/s: Crowley/Raphael, Aziraphale, Reader, Gabriel

Word Count: 1, 626 words

Warnings: Is sad, mentions of falling, Gabriel being a dick, sad!Crowley, mentions of Crowley's past, the whole thing about nearly being murdered by Heaven

Prompt: After the whole ordeal with Heaven, Crowley finds his past revisiting him as he tries to sleep. His partner's try and help comfort him and reminding him that, through it all, they still have them.

Notes: So, I lied. I wrote this at 4 in the morning rather than sleeping because I found THIS AMAZING PIECE OF ART WORK BY @philiasperanzart and I simply had to share! Sorry if its OOC and shit but its 4 am and I can't help it when inspiration hits.

Italics – clashing of memories, italics will always be the Heaven scene where normal text (with context) will be memories of before Crowley’s fall.

Also – so I am of the opinion that Gabriel cares very much but after centuries of seeing his brothers and sisters fall and being emotionally unavailable (specifically after this fic) he just doesn’t know how to make himself vulnerable, so he hides it behind crack shots and remarks that he doesn’t know are shitty, yet they are. And when he tells ‘Aziraphale’ to just die already, he’s angry. Because he has seen siblings of his fall over everything and surely Aziraphale would know by now? Not to fraternize with demons. They can’t risk him falling, so they have to kill him and I think he’s putting up a brave front because he doesn’t want Aziraphale’s death. Also, the fact that Aziraphale was friends (at a very bare minimum, lets face it, they’re married) with Crowley made it 10x worse, as this fic will explore slightly. Additionally (final notes) I made this a poly!Aziraphale x reader x Crowley fic because we don’t have enough of these fics in our lives. You are all very very welcome.

Buy Me a Coffee

Broken Promises

The words still rung clear in Crowley’s head.

“Please just shut your stupid mouth and die already.”

They still stung, possibly more than anything else that Gabriel has ever said directly or indirectly to the demon.

His body had moved on, but his mind was still back there.

It was very bright when he first opened his eyes, and the small angel in front of him just seemed to radiate love and happiness. “You must be Raphael! I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Shut your stupid mouth-”

“I’m Gabriel! I am your brother, I’ll be your companion!”

“-and die already.”

“I’ll be by your side no matter what!”

The heat didn’t even hurt Crowley as he approached the flames. But the words?

“I’ll protect you from all the bad things!”

The words burnt more than the flames ever would.

When Crowley first attempted to fly, Gabriel was there. “Don’t worry, Raphael! We all fall down sometimes, I’ll always be here to pick you up!”

“Just shut your stupid mouth-”

But he wasn’t.

“-and die already.”

His first cock-up with a miracle. Gabriel was there. “It’s ok, Raphael, I can fix it! Next time, we can practice on something smaller and work up to something this big!”

Just -

When Lucifer fell, it was the first time Crowley saw Gabriel snap. “Don’t cry, Raphael! It’s all a part of our Mother’s plan. It’s ineffable! Surely She knew this was going to happen!”

shut –

“What if it happens to me? To the rest of us?” Gabriel simply took a calming breath and smiled as he brought his brother in close. “It won’t! We just have to love God more than anything else and obey all Her commands without question. We won’t fall, Raphael, we know better.”

your –

Then more angels fell, taking after Lucifer’s example. Gabriel was there after every single one. “Does it hurt?” “I don’t know, Raphael. I hope not. I don’t want them to feel pain as they fall.”

stupid –

The more angels who fell, the more closed off Gabriel became. “Gabriel? What did Anna do to fall?” “I don’t know Raphael, he must have done something.”

mouth –

“Gabriel, will you still talk to me if I fall?” “Why would I?” “Because we are brothers.” “Raphael, if you fall, we will never talk again. It’s just the way things are.”

and –

And then Crowley fell. Gabriel was there when it happened. His eyes were cold as he watched Crowley begin his descent into Hell.

die –

Gabriel was wrong.

already.

Crowley burned.

But even the pain from falling was nothing compared to hearing those words from his once dear brother’s mouth.

Crowley fights back tears as he tries to process what happened in Heaven when he feels two arms start to snake their way around him. Too warm to be Aziraphale. Y/N.

“Crow, it’s 4 in the morning, what’s going on?” Your tired voice murmurs into his ear, resting on your side as you try to bring him in closer.

“It’s nothing pet, go back to sleep.” You mumble before bringing yourself closer, ignoring Aziraphale’s tired whimpers when you leave his grip.

“Don’t lie to me, love.” Crowley rolls his eyes. “It may be what demons do, but it’s not what you do.” Silence rings between the two of you before the sound of shuffling fills the room as Crowley moves his body to be able to curl up against your chest, your head moving automatically to rest against his hair. “Is it about what happened when you went upstairs?” He nods slightly. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Do you need to tell me?”

“Probably.”

You wait for Crowley to start talking, not wanting to push him until he felt uncomfortable talking to you. “There wasn’t even a trial.”

You hum. “What do you mean?”

“I got a trial. Yes, it was a sham of a trial, just to showcase off how cruel Beelzebub can be and how my behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated. But it was a trial. Heaven didn’t even try. They just��..sentenced Aziraphale to death.” You wait.

“There’s more, isn’t there.” It’s not a question, a statement. You know he’s holding back.

“Just something Gabriel said, it doesn’t matter.”

“Evidently, it does.”

“Would you drop it?”

“No.” Crowley sighs, your voice clear. You weren’t dropping it until you knew the whole truth.

“Being in Heaven reminded me of the times before I fell. That, coupled with just the whole stress of the situation? Wasn’t really that nice for me.”

“I thought you don’t do nice.”

“I don’t, Heaven’s s’pposed to though.”

“True.” You move your hand to play with his hair in a small form of comfort. “Why did you fall?”

“I asked too many questions.”

“Too many?”

“One.”

“Which was?”

“Why can’t we love God as much as we love each other.” You hum. “Heaven didn’t like that very much.”

“I can tell.” You swear Crowley is purring as you continue to massage his scalp, but you definitely don’t tell him that. Not when you are slowly getting him to open up. “Do you miss Heaven?” Crowley shrugs.

“Not particularly. Too bright. Too ‘do as your told and not as you think’.”

“I thought Heaven would be more loving.”

“Trust me, its not.” You sigh, bringing your lips to his forehead. “I miss the way Gabriel treated me before I fell.” He finally admits before opening up about how Gabriel was his mentor, his guide through everything angelic. How they made the stars together, how Gabriel was there through every tumble and fall. Except for his last one. “I miss the comradery.”

You pause for a minute, feeling Aziraphale come up behind you, clearly still asleep. A rare commodity for him. “I think Gabriel misses it too.” Crowley’s eyes meet yours, seemingly confused. “Well, he hates the fact Aziraphale is friends with you. Possibly because he feels bad that he couldn’t save you from falling when all you did was ask a question. He probably was upset when you fell because he couldn’t save you, but also, the two of you were close. And he couldn’t talk to you about it or question anyone else about it because, after all, it was in God’s plan. And Her plan is ineffable. But, I think there is something Gabriel didn’t take into account. You didn’t fall. At least not all the way. Your body made it to Hell, but your soul stayed on Earth. You have never been fully an angel or fully a demon, you’ve always been something different, something in between. But what makes you special is that you think outside the box, you’re creative, you don’t stick to the rules, you bend them until they are close to breaking and then hope that they’re made of rubber as you bend them some more. That’s not a demonic or angelic quality. That’s a human quality. And that’s why Heaven and Hell are so scared of you. Because what they see as bad, humans see as good. And I think that’s important for you to know.”

Crowley thinks over your words for a minute before rolling his eyes. “Oh yes, of course, that’s totally what they are afraid of. Not the fact that I tempted an angel and got away with it.”

“You’re being sarcastic because you know I have a valid point.” You retort. “Would you rather have not fallen, stayed chummy with Gabriel who is, as kind as I’m sure he was in the past, a bit of a prat or would you rather have fallen and have met Aziraphale, fallen in love with him and lived your life with him?”

“What about you?”

“I’m human, I’m only temporary.”

“You are just as important, Y/N.” Aziraphale’s voice chimes in. You roll your eyes.

“This is about cheering Crowley up, angel, not me.” Aziraphale places his chin on your side as he peers over you to look down at his other partner.

“What’s upsetting him?”

“Nothing, angel.”

“Heaven didn’t give you a trial and being in Heaven reminded him of like pre-snake eyes.” Aziraphale’s mouth forms an ‘o’ of shock before he places an arm over you and Crowley.

“Heaven’s Heaven, my dear. No need to waste time thinking about them when we have our own little haven here – that’s what matters now.” Crowley seems to sulk under Aziraphale’s words, most likely because you had worded him out.

“We also don’t know that this wasn’t a part of God’s plan, ya know.” You say gently. “For all we know, She’s up there playing matchmaker and that’s why things have gone tits up. Heaven don’t talk to Her much anymore, that’s why they acted drastically.”

“It’s not part of Her plan.”

“But we don’t know that. At the end of it all, Crowley, we don’t know. We love you, we will always be here for you and if you fall, we’ll be here to pick you back up. It’s ok to think of the past and reminisce but not if it affects you in this way.” Aziraphale nods as his eyes flicker between the two of you. “We aren’t leaving you any time soon, Crowley.”

“Promise?” His voice sounds tired, weak. As if he has heard that promise before only for it to be broken.

“Promise.” The two of you state at the same time.

Crowley seems content with that as he burrows in closer. He mumbles something that you can’t make out, but you get the gist. “We love you too Crow. Sleep?”

Crowley simply nods.

The memories of Gabriel never leave Crowley, nor the hurt of his words, and his actions. But when he’s with you and Aziraphale, those memories always seem to become a little less bitter.

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scintillating-galaxias · 4 years

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i’ll be the wind beneath your wings (ch. 5)

and here we are, the final chapter of my swap gift to @peppervl! i hope you liked your gift! (read it on ao3!)

The Day After Armageddon

Centuries passed. Humanity grew. The world morphed into something new and unrecognizable. The end of everything thundered on their doorstep and was sent away again. They lost—

I don’t need you.

— they found—

Lift home?

And somehow, the same angel and the same demon from six thousand years ago found each other in the storm.

You can stay at my place if you like.

They huddled together for refuge inside of Crowley’s flat, tired—so, so tired—but they could not rest yet. The War was over, but the battle was not.

“They aren’t going to be happy with us,” murmured Aziraphale. He still had enough energy to anxiously pace before Crowley, who was sprawled in his… throne? It certainly looked like a throne. “I mean—you saw Gabriel. He looked ready to smite me. And Beelzebub. Oh, we shouldn’t have antagonized them—”

Crowley listlessly stared at the ceiling as Aziraphale spoke, lazily swinging his sunglasses. “It was worth it, though,” he replied after a moment.

“I mean, of course, Gabriel’s face was priceless, but what are we going to do? They’ll send their armies after us as retribution for stopping their War!”

“Maybe.”

“Twenty million angels and demons. All after me and you.”

“That’s a big number, alright.”

“We might be put to death, even. I doubt we’ll get a trial, not after everything we’ve done.”

“Probably.”

“Crowley, this is serious! Why—?”

“Angel,” said Crowley. He sounded so weary, yet a small, crooked smile pushed its way across his face. “C’mere.”

Aziraphale came. Step by step, until he stood before Crowley and his smile. He held out his hand. Aziraphale took it and sighed shakily as Crowley squeezed it.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale mumbled. “I’m just—I’m scared. For us.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Crowley said, in such a soft but knowing way that Aziraphale could almost believe him right away.

Almost.

“I—appreciate the vote of confidence, but how?”

Crowley rubbed his thumb along Aziraphale’s knuckles. “We’ll come up with a plan, and it’ll work. We’re smarter than all of Heaven and Hell combined. Gabriel thinks he has something going on up there, but we all know that’s a load of tosh.” Aziraphale chuckled weakly. “And Beelzebub—they’re crafty, I’ll give ‘em that much, but they learned it all from me.”

“We can’t rely on wits—or lack thereof—alone!”

“And we won’t,” Crowley assured. “We’ve got something else, too.”

“And what may that be?”

“Time.” Crowley snapped his fingers. His throne morphed into a very cushy looking couch. He lightly tugged Aziraphale down. The red velvet cushions were precisely as plush as they appeared to be. “Beelzebub’s got to get all of their little minions in line again, and so does Gabriel. Dunno about angels, but demons are a rowdy bunch on a good day, and horrid little buggers on a bad one, and I would say this is a very bad day for Hell.”

“What are you implying?”

“I,” said Crowley, “am implying that they aren’t going to break down my front door in the next thirty seconds, and that we can relax.”

Aziraphale let out a long breath and slumped against Crowley’s side. “You’re right. I suppose I got myself rather worked up.”

“I’ll say. I thought you were supposed to be the rational one.”

“Goodness, no, have you met me? Weren’t you the one to stop time just earlier today?”

“...I panicked.”

“Oh, dear.” With the initial rush panic mostly washed away, Aziraphale felt empty. Like the tide had come in and taken everything with it when it went back out. “Well, it was impressive, nonetheless.”

Crowley barked a laugh. “Don’t ask me to do it again anytime soon. I think I’ll discorporate.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You must be exhausted.”

“Could sleep for another hundred years,” Crowley said, and it was then that Aziraphale truly heard the exhaustion lacing his words.

“Well, maybe not that long,” said Aziraphale. “I’d be lonely with you, my friend.”

Crowley glanced at him, a knowing glimmer sparkling in the corners of his tired eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Until morning, then. But if you wake me up before eleven, you’ll have bigger problems than Heaven and Hell to worry about.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh and bumped his head against Crowley’s shoulder. “Go on then. We can discuss our strategy over tea in the morning. I’ll keep myself entertained. I’m sure you have a book or two somewhere around here.”

Crowley nodded slowly. After a few seconds, he stood up and strode over to a wall. He put one palm on it, then turned back to Aziraphale. Crowley was never one to look his age, but now the lines around the corners of his eyes betrayed a sort of ancient weariness that only came with seeing the beginning and the end of the world in your lifespan. “I’ll see you in the morning, angel.”

It certainly sounded like goodnight. But there was an individual note of reluctance playing in Crowley’s voice that Aziraphale hesitated at.

“Yes,” he said instead of pressing it. “Have a good sleep.”

“...Yeah. G’night.”

He pushed on the wall. Part of it swung open like a revolving door, and Crowley went through it. Before it shut, Aziraphale swore he saw Crowley turning to look back.

And then the door shut and he was alone.

Aziraphale blew out a long breath and drummed his fingers on his knees. Some tea sounded nice right about now. Or hot chocolate. Crowley didn’t seem like the type of person that would keep a kettle around, or even a pot. Or tea bags. Or anything to make any drink. Did he even have a kitchen? He did say Aziraphale was free to explore…

Twenty minutes of poking about Crowley’s flat found him back in the living room with a couple of dusty books and a cup of coffee. As it turned out, Crowley did have a kitchen, but it looked so new and unused that it could have been photographed for an advertisement for a remodeling agency. Aziraphale almost felt bad for using it to make coffee, which was the only thing Crowley had in the cupboards. He wasn’t particularly fond of coffee, but he was desperate enough for something hot to drink to take it.

He sipped his coffee, grimacing at the taste. The flat was large, but there wasn’t much in it apart from some furniture and a few oddly specific art pieces. The sketch of Mona Lisa was particularly impressive. He’d only met the artist once, and that was when he went to get his portrait sketched with Crowley. Judging from the stories Crowley had told of him, da Vinci was quite the character. Aziraphale still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the vases. They were beautifully made, but they looked to be more like a last-ditch effort to make the place a bit more lived-in than actual decorations. The same was true for the books; the front covers were still glossy and stiff once he wiped the dust from them, and the spines crackled when he opened them up to read.

It took him almost an hour to get through the first chapter. It wasn’t that the content was dense. Even if it were, he’d become adept at processing even the most complex texts extraordinarily quickly. No, the issue was the anxiety shaking away in his mind. He pushed it aside for the first few pages, but as he went on, he couldn't but help pay more and more attention to it. It settled over him like an itchy robe and, as time went on, began to permeate his skin and gnaw on his bones.

Aziraphale frowned. It was the strangest sensation, but he could swear that this feeling didn’t belong to him. When he stressed, there was a discernible reason for it that he would hunt down and fix. This time, he couldn’t begin to make sense of what precisely the problem was.

If it wasn’t him, then…

Aziraphale gently shut his book. The half-full mug was left beside the couch as he got to his feet and took a few experimental steps towards the wall Crowley had gone through; the feeling immediately sharpened. He went to try and push open the same wall Crowley walked through. It opened startlingly easily, and Aziraphale was nearly hit in the behind by the door as he fell through it. He steadied himself and surveyed the… greenhouse?

Dozens of gorgeous tropical plants filled the room with colorful lush leaves and vibrant flowers. Some were enormous and nearly brushed the glass ceiling with their stalks, while others were much smaller and remained in plastic pots on small tables. For some reason, all of them appeared to be shivering slightly. Crowley clearly took excellent care of them. Aziraphale would have to tell him so later.

After a few more seconds of gawking, he happened to glance upon a corridor. At the end was another statue. This one appeared to be two winged figures on top of each other and… wrestling. Definitely wrestling.

Uncomfortable, Aziraphale swiftly decided to move on. The prickliness morphed into thorniness, and he was extraordinarily gentle as he knocked on a closed door in a hallway off to the left of the statue.

“Crowley?” he called softly. “Are you in here?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then came a faint, “Yeah.”

“May I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He pushed open the door and entered. He could immediately tell that this was where Crowley spent most of his free-time. More tastefully positioned art decorated the walls, and there was a desk off to the right covered with random objects: more plants, quills, a doll, a few stones, a pocket watch, and even a glittering sapphire. Souvenirs from throughout the ages, he realized. He knew because he had an extraordinarily similar setup at the bookshop. Or rather, he used to have one.

Across from the desk, an enormous four-poster bed dominated the room. A mountain of red covers was piled on top of the bed. Barely visible from one end of it was Crowley.

“I was thinking,” started Crowley without prompting. “I was thinking, what if it all goes tits up? I know I’m a hypocrite, angel, but I can’t stop it.”

Aziraphale began to toe off his shoes.

“I mean—They’ve got usss cornered. We know they’re coming. They know we know they’re coming.”

Aziraphale hung his coat on a newly formed coat hook on the back of the door.

“We could run away. They’ll probably find us. And then I guessss we could run again? And then that’s it. Zilch. No miracle’s getting usss out of this.”

Aziraphale came over to the bed and neatly slid himself beneath the covers. Crowley did not pause even pause once during his rant.

“I mean—twenty million! Twenty million angels and demonsssss—ugh, demons, can do a bloody lot of damage to Earth without an apocalypse! And—oh shit, what about Adam and hisss lot? Satan’s not gone, you know, but since Adam’s renounced Him as his father, He can—ngk, shsp—I dunno, kill him? Can He do that?”

“I doubt the Almighty would allow something so dreadful to happen to an innocent child,” Aziraphale soothed.

Oh, ‘cos She’s got such a spotless track record with children.” Finally, Crowley turned his head to look at Aziraphale. “I thought you were supposed to be reading?”

“You think awfully loudly when you’re stressed, my dear.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, my dear.” Obviously, Aziraphale was not pleased about Crowley’s distress, but secretly, it did bring him some relief to know he wasn’t overreacting. “What’s bothering you?”

“What’s—What’s bothering me? Nothing. I’m unbotherable.”

“Mm. Then what’s all this about the Lord of the Underworld and young Adam?”

“Some worm in my brain,” Crowley muttered. He crossed his arms and frowned down at the bed covers.

“Well, tell it to stuff it,” Aziraphale said. Crowley snorted. “I’m serious. You should listen to your own advice some time. Everything you told me not half an hour ago is still as true now as it was then. We have wits, we have time, and”— he pulled the scrap of Agnes’ prophecy he’d caught from his pocket—“we have Agnes.”

“What’s she got to do with this?”

Aziraphale handed the scrap over for Crowley to read.

“Playing with fire…” Crowley said after a few minutes. His eyebrows were making a brave attempt at escaping into this hairline. “Probably means literal Hellfire. I don’t have a clue what the rest is supposed to mean.”

“Neither do I,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I believe interpretations of four-hundred-year-old prophecies should wait until morning. We already agreed stressing over any plans now will do neither of us any favors.”

“Right.” Crowley flipped the paper over, then gave it back to Aziraphale. “Erm. Are you staying here then, or…?”

“Oh—I can go, if you’d like, I just thought you’d like some company—”

“No, it’s fine. Um. If you’re staying, then…” he trailed off into an unintelligible mumble.

Aziraphale slightly furrowed his brow. “What was that?”

“Wiyouhepwimywings?

“What about your wings?”

Crowley turned a shade of red that matched spectacularly with his covers. “Blast it all, will you help me with my wings? Just until I fall asleep?”

Aziraphale smiled and beckoned Crowley to come closer. He scooted over, turned his back on him, and in the next instant, Aziraphale found himself spitting out a mouthful of Crowley’s feathers.

“You could have warned me,” he groused, picking down off of his tongue.

Crowley made an apologetic noise that somehow did not sound at all apologetic. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and began working his fingers through the feathers. They were in excellent condition as always, so Aziraphale was mostly undoing Crowley’s work so that he could do it again. Judging by how he leaned back more and more into Aziraphale’s hands with each stroke, he didn’t mind.

The scars had healed up wonderfully, Aziraphale noticed. The bumps were nearly undetectable by his touch. The old, damaged set of feathers were replaced entirely, having been through a few molts at this point. Aside from a few telling ridges from healed broken bones and slightly thinner patches of feathers, he could believe nothing terrible had happened that day.

“It seems you’re doing well,” Aziraphale commented.

“Mmhmm. Thanks to you, mostly.”

He smiled. “Is your right wing still bothering you?”

“A bit. Could you…? Mm, thanks.”

Aziraphale gently rubbed slow circles into Crowley’s wing with his thumbs. If one listened hard enough, they would be able to hear the footsteps of the building’s other residents. Occasionally, a burst of laughter or a shout would make it through the concrete walls. They quickly faded out, and they’d be left alone with the quiet sounds of their breathing and the rustling of feathers.

An hour went by in companionable silence, until Aziraphale uttered, “Crowley?”

A few seconds passed. Then, in a voice roughened by sleep, “Yeah?”

“Could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The night you were injured, and you came to the bookshop… why did you come to me if you were so adamant about leaving?”

Crowley’s brow twitched. “I thought—Wait, you don’t remember?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever asked before.”

“Huh. Oh, shit, that’s what I forg—I mean. Of course. Must be thinking of something else.” Crowley coughed. “Uh. Okay, so I escaped, got a little fucked up by Hastur’s cronies, and well… I was paranoid. Can you blame me?” Aziraphale resumed stroking Crowley’s wing while he waited for him to go on. “And… I figured you were the best choice. I didn’t want to die. I’d be stuck Down there with Hastur for Satan knows how long. But once I got there, I didn’t—I wasn’t sure if you’d pick your duties as an angel or—or something else.” Or me. Aziraphale’s heart dropped.

“I—I won’t lie to you,” he admitted. “You were correct. I wasn’t sure. I almost didn’t want to use any miracles on you. I still feel guilty about that.”

Crowley nodded slowly as the words rolled over him. He didn’t look hurt, but he didn’t seem surprised either. “But you wound up helping me anyway, and I figured it was just because, well, y’know, he’s an angel, angels help people. And demons. Couldn’t believe it. So when I woke up and I just—I was convinced that wasn’t what you actually wanted. I still thought it was an obligation. And well, you had made your points about our natures enough that I figured getting caught out was the last thing you wanted. I wanted to get out so they wouldn’t find us both.”

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek. “I was worried I’d done something wrong.”

“No, no. I just—you said you wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure if that was out of obligation or not, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble either way and—yeah. It was weird.”

“Again, you were right.” Aziraphale stroked his hair apologetically. “I’m an angel, and there was likely a divine instinct to take you in. I was hurt, you know, when you told me as much. Not because it’s true, but because I wanted to help you. You are, more than anything, more than either of our natures, more than Hell was to you or what Heaven meant to me, you are my dearest friend.” Aziraphale leaned over to make sure Crowley was meeting his eyes. “I knew the risks, and they were worth taking if it meant I could save you.”

“Oh.”

“Crowley, I am”—his breath caught—“I am so sorry I made you feel that way. You’re my best friend. I would never let anything happen to you.”

“I—That’s—The sentiment’s mutual, angel.” And then Crowley did something that surprised them both; he turned and tightly hugged Aziraphale around the middle. He squeezed tightly, burrowing his head into Aziraphale’s chest. “Thank you,” he mumbled. His breath puffed warmly through Aziraphale’s shirt.

Aziraphale wiggled his hands free from Crowley’s wings and placed one on the back of his head, and the other just under his wings. Then, he brought out his wings and and curled them around the two of them. They stayed like that for a moment, sharing closeness and warmth and something else that was indescribable, but it was warm, and it was safe.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Crowley’s head. “Now let’s get some rest, my dear. We have our biggest day yet ahead of us.”

#peppervl #goholidayswap #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #im not gonna use every single tag this time #ibtwbyw #my writing #queerplatonic relationship

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