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When The Demon Loses Control And Finally Kisses His Angel

Chapter Text

Dinner at the Ritz had been perfect. While Crowley hadn't actually eaten anything he loved watching Aziraphale enjoy his food. And that he did, moans and all. Watching the white-haired angel let out those sounds was enthralling even though Crowley was certain no one else heard the man. They never did. That was because Crowley had a habit of making his own little miracles when taking Aziraphale out to eat. No one would hear the angel or the demon unless they directly spoke to you. While Crowley had fed it to Aziraphale with the explanation that they could speak freely and undisturbed that way the real reason was a lot more... Selfish. Indeed Crowley adored Aziraphale's sounds as he ate delightfully and wanted to keep them to himself. No one else could hear his angel like that. He was his and there was no going around it. 

Sure it had taken him a multitude of centuries or... Well, maybe a few millennia but he had adored the angel since their very first meeting in the garden of Eden. 'I gave it away' and he'd lost his heart. And while he did deny his feelings for a long time there eventually was no way to overlook them. Every time he saw the angel he wanted to hold his hand, pull him close, keep him forever and never let him go. Now as a brand new type of torture... He yearned for a kiss. He told himself that after one kiss his feeling would die out. That one kiss would be enough.

Yet the angel had said on many occasion that the demon went too fast for him, and Crowley wanted to give him time. It just proved to be exponentially harder than he'd imagined.

Aziraphale you see, now as he no longer feared armageddon seemed to have given in to his more human customs. Biting his lip for one was new. He'd do it when he worried, or when he was unsure of something, but to Crowley, it was the biggest temptation of all.

The bite on his lip drew blood there and made the angel's lip flush and plump. And everything seemed to be drawing the demon's attention to those supple lips with a sweet cupid's bow and it only got him closer and closer to temptation. 

Then the biting was joined by the lip-licking which only happened around food but was still an alluring move in the demon's eyes. 

Then the angel bought lip balm. It was winter after all and the cold weather, joined by the lip-biting was drying out his lips. And so Crowley had to watch him apply lips balm and wonder what the angel would taste like. The lip balm said it would taste like strawberry and the demon was more than eager to test that theory. 

And now after dinner and a bottle of champagne Crowley and Aziraphale left the Ritz to go to Aziraphale's bookstore. It was winter and snow was pouring down as they walked to the Bentley and got in. It really wasn't a conscious choice for Crowley. To yawn and stretch out his arm on the headrest of the angel's seat. Crowley knew it was a human move used especially at the movies but was completely unaware of even moving.

It wasn't until the angel looked at him with a smile that Crowley saw he'd dropped his arm on Aziraphale's shoulders and was displaying clear affection. But the angel seemed to not mind as they drove along London. And so... Crowley took advantage of the moment and kept his arm where he'd layed it. Circling his more dearest possession friend and keeping him safe. His arm wasn't exactly a seatbelt but God and Satan alike knew that the demon Crowley would gladly give his arm if it meant he could protect his angel.

When finally Crowley parked his car on his usual illegal parking spot in front of AZ Fell and Co Crowley circled the car to open Aziphiel's door only to realize that he was turning this into a date by following through with human traditions of gentlemen. Opening the car door, and any door that is, paying for the food and taking his date home, to accompany him to his front door. Then would come... The goodnight kiss. Suddenly a human tradition Crowley had never understood before was a gift given by God herself, or Satan if he actually fell into temptation and kissed the angel in front of him.

Frozen by the thought of actually kissing the angel Crowley leaned against the car door and placed his other hand on the roof of the car, trapping the other between him and the car as Azephien got out. He was surprised by how close the demon was and gave one of those confused and forced smiles he'd make when he felt uncomfortable.

But while the angel worriedly cast glances around the empty streets and blushed like a bride the demon only smiled slightly. The angel's pale skin looked wonderful in the moonlight. He seemed like he belonged into the winter wonderland London had become. His blue eyes were wide with wonder and Crowley felt like he could stare into them forever as long as they kept looking at him.

From the angel's perspective, it was a whole other situation. He tried to stay proper and be a gentleman, as such telling the other off was out of the question but he wondered if he might maybe nudge the other further away so he could slip under his arm and chuckle awkwardly as he'd walk to his bookstore. But here he was stuck between a demon and his Bentley, wondering where he could go to get out of the uncomfortable situation.

And then... The demon leaned forward. And while to some other angel this would have been a dangerous situation; Aziraphale was special, he knew that Crowley would never harm him. But that didn't mean the yellow-eyed demon didn't act in ways that he didn't approve of. Coming this close was one of those unwanted situations. So when they noses brushed and a waft of the smell of bourbon and smoke and something utterly delightful between the two hard scents wafted over him the angel closed his eyes and felt a blush creep to his cheeks as temptation seemed to be clouding his mind. Cinnamon! That is what the demon smelled like underneath his bad habits. A rather wonderful scent if you asked Aziraphale. But while the angel seemed to be in temporary heaven between the Bentley and the demon his head cleared the second he felt the faintest brush of lips against his own.

And as soon as the moment had turned from uncomfortable to wonderful for the angel, it turned from wonderful to unacceptable in the same amount of seconds. And before he could clear his head enough to think he performed a miracle.

A huge trashcan set aflame behind the demon on the other side of the street and the ginger didn't even move a muscle. It was his hand detaching from the roof of the car and moving it to the angel's cheek to pull him closer and truly kiss him that left an opening for Aziraphale. He slipped from underneath the demon's arm and with nervous giggles made his escape as planned. "Oh, dear would you look at the time. I'm afraid I simply must go. Goodnight Crowley." And just like that, the angel slammed the bookstore door closed behind him before the demon even fully realized that he was gone.



Chapter Text

The next day unbeknown to the other both the angel and the demon wished to call each other. To act like yesterday's misunderstanding had never happened.

The demon Crowley was pacing back and forth in his flat, pulling his hair out, growling at himself and plagued by yesterdays moment. Whatever it had been... It was like he was drunk or inebriated in some other way. The alluring scent of the angel was around him like a cloud and he couldn't forget how the angel's pale skin had blushed under his touch. How he'd gasped out and their breaths had mingled. How he looked like he was high on... Crowley. And for a second the demon had been certain. He'd been sure the angel wouldn't pull away. That Aziraphale wouldn't back off or slip away. That he'd finally after 6000 years of relentless pining give up and just let himself go. What happened to our side?  Why was the angel still worried about angering the ones above?

Once again Crowley drew in a deep breath and allowed himself to draw in the angel's scent. How utterly alluring. Realizing he would never get his thoughts straight if the angel kept tempting him even when he was so far away, Crowley wrenched off his black jacket and threw it in the corner of the room, the enticing scent disappearing with it.

But oh, how the angel had looked. How his breath had stilled and his pulse quickened, how his cheeks flushed and how his fingertips had grazed the demon's hips. His skin had been so soft and his gaze glanced over as he looked up at the demon and allowed him to get closer. The demon grew angry. There was no room for clear thoughts. He was going to lose his mind if this continued. He destroyed two plants, screamed and broke a vase, he destroyed his Mona Lisa painting and yelled into the echoing rooms to relieve his fury. But nothing was helping.

How could he have screwed things up like this? Why didn't he think before he acted? He'd made sensible decisions before, even if the angel seemed like frosting on a cake that he just wanted to lick off.

Meanwhile in a bookstore that never really sold any books sat an angel, white of hair in his couch, holding a cup of tea with his hands shaking so wildly he wasn't able to take one sip. "Oh dear Lord... Dear Lord!" He mumbled and whined to himself as the happenings of hours before repeated in his mind. It was true that the angel was smart, but he was still very oblivious when it came to the red-haired demon. Aziraphale almost whimpered out loud when he thought of how close the demon had been, how his skin had been aflame and how heat seemed to radiate from Crowley. He smelled so alluring and looked like he would lose it in a second. And truth be told Aziraohale was not deemed to be very handsome. Humans didn't look at him as they looked at Crowley. He wasn't beautiful in the standards of men and while once upon a time he might have gotten a look his way they had never been like that. Crowley had been intense, full of emotion and so very... Desperate.

Oh, how ashamed of his feelings the angel was as he blushed all alone in his bookstore just thinking about how close they'd come. Thousands of years of friendship had almost evolved into something completely different. But he'd put a stop to it. Like any good angel would. Oh dear, what would his colleagues think? If spending time had been on the level of sin to them how would they see what almost happened? A demon and an angel should never get that close. Their lips should never touch, and their hands should never hold the others. They shouldn't sleep next to each other or share meals. They should avoid alcohol and only work against one another. They shouldn't be loyal to one another and not feel... This. This burning sensation of something dark and urgent. Aziraphale was horrified when he realized his thought had gone from a reprimanding tone to something wistful and yearning.

He wondered how he should deal with the situation at hand. Nothing had happened for 6000 years. They'd been friends for 6000 years. They didn't have feelings for each other... Did they? Crowley certainly couldn't... Love him... Could he? No of course not. They were just very close friends, comrades and perhaps Crowley had been a little tipsy. But the demon had certainly been more drunk than that around him before and nothing had happened before... Aziraphale shook his head, getting rid of the thoughts that were nullifying his rationalizations and excuses. For certain it had been a drunken mistake on the demon's part.

'Perhaps I should call him tomorrow. Invite him for sushi and act like nothing had ever happened' The angel thought finally able to drink his tea as the million thoughts in his head calmed down and his heartbeat steadied. 'Yes. What a clever plan. For certain it will work and everything will go back to as they were. I can forget what happened and how close he'd been, and how his lips - NO!' And just like that the angel knew he wouldn't be able to do it. You see as an angel, his thoughts should be pure... But they weren't. They really weren't. Because if he was true to himself, yesterday he'd somehow wished to pull away, but also step closer. 

And just like that, a decision not to call the demon was set in motion.

The next day the angel didn't even look at the phone. He almost asked the other for lunch when a new restaurant opened up a few streets away, but thinking about the demon only reminded him of the day before and caused him to blush. And so he went alone and enjoyed some traditional Danish cuisine alone. By the third day of not contacting the demon, the angel hoped Crowley would call him and take the first step to nullify what these sudden temptations had done to their friendship.

And just like that, a lightbulb turned on in the angels head and he went from worried to annoyed in seconds. Temptations indeed. And who else here was a master of those but the demon himself... Crowley had made Aziraphale feel this way. There was no way the angel was tempted all on his own.

And as a week went by, then a month and another one the angel thought that perhaps it would be best if they spent a century apart once more. The idea pulled at his heartstrings and got him on the verge of crying, but perhaps this could appease both angels and demons if they lay low for a while. And they could sort their heads out and return to a fully platonic relationship.

It wasn't until a third month rolled by and the angel felt sad to his core and missed his friend more than ever; that on a thunder filled night a harsh knock sound on his bookstore door. It was far past closing time and the angel wondered who might be there. Perhaps a homeless man looking for shelter, or one of those youngsters that took pleasure in these new world drugs that Aziraphale read about in the morning paper.

"Yes, yes I am coming." The angel said as the knocking grew louder and more impatient. He shuffled to the door and placed a polite smile on his face, even though he found himself quite annoyed over someone interrupting his night reading at this time of the hour. If he were human, he would have been asleep. How utterly unpolite.

But before the white-haired angel could even reach out, the double doors flew open after a loud bang that rang in his ears, the darkness of the streets outside flooded his bookstore and a cold breeze drifted in the air and blew out the candles that had emitted light for his reading. With a shiver, half in fear of Gabriel coming after him and half in simply feeling cold Aziraphale looked outside and saw two familiar yellow eyes in the darkness. "Oh, Crowley. How utterly unpolite of you. Don't you know that after knocking you must wait for someone to open the door for you or call you in?" The angel berated the demon and smoothed over his clothes as he heard the redhead growl at him. "Now none of that Crowley. I do not wish to speak with you. I believe that taking a century away from each other could be good for us."

Unknown to him the demon was restless and on the verge of going insane. He'd spent the last three months in his apartment, his jacket wrapped around him in bed until it stopped smelling like the angel. And that's when things got really bad. A dark aura spread around his neighborhood and made everyone angry. People got divorced, into traffic accidents, apartments burned down and relationships crumbled after intense arguments over the most trivial matters.

The demon could think of nothing else than his angel, growing more desperate by the second. All he wanted was one touch. Just one kiss. Until finally one night, after shredding every single plant in his house and tearing apart his bed in anger the demon layed on the floor as white feathers slowly drifted down on him as they'd been thrown into the air from destroyed pillows. These feathers looked like Azirahale's, but didn't smell like him and suddenly... His self-control snapped. 

He'd been in his Bentley driving faster than ever in seconds, before coming down to a screeching halt in front of the bookstore. He'd never been drawn to any place like this before.

And now, here he stood, on the steps of Az Fell and Co, watching his angel and allowing him to crowd all his senses. The familiar scent was back. The excruciatingly beautiful blush grazed the angel's cheeks. The heat of being so close to him and the burning in his chest to step closer. 

And the angel... He spoke of being apart, and the demon couldn't have that. He'd have to show him why he would never allow the angel to leave. He would prove his love right here, right now.

Without saying a word, and ignoring the angel's protests, the demon stepped into the bookstore, drawing closer to the angel. The doors slammed closed behind him and the angel could distinctly hear it lock. Eyes wide he watched the demon advance closer. He felt like pray. Like a mouse in front of a snake that was preparing to bounce. And if the angel had then known how right he was, he would have already been running out the door.

But he decided to reason... With a demon that wasn't all there: "Crowley?" His voice was more a whisper or a whine than the strong warning he wanted it to seem like. "You don't look all right. Are you sick perhaps? Is that why you have been acting so... Oddly?" And right he was. Well, the demon wasn't sick per se unless you call being in love a sickness. But he for certainly did not look alright.

His cheeks had caved in, his skin hand an ashy tone to it, he had dark circles around his eyes and his clothing had teres in them. His hair was a mess like it hadn't seen a brush in weeks and his eyes... They seemed like a more vibrant yellow than before. Like they could see nothing else than the angel in front of him, and like he'd been starved of him for decades. The gaze was full of something dark. Not just lust, but also something possessive. Something that wanted to grasp the angel and never let him go. Something that told him to possess and own instead of admire and love.

A shiver ran down the angel's spine: "Crowley? Say something. You're scaring me." He whined as he bumped into the sharp edge of his desk, but kept backing down anyway. "Crowley, not a step more." He warned weakly when he felt a bookshelf dig into his back. Nowhere to run. And the demon growled with a small devilish smile as he knew the other couldn't escape this time. 

"You... You..." The angel started again slowly when accompanied by a loud thump the demon reached out and slammed his hands on both sides of the angel's head against the bookshelf making it shake slightly. And now Aziraphale was truly trapped. 

Crowley leaned in, stepping so closely their chest touched and buried his face into the crook of a shivering Aziraphale's neck. He drew in a deep breath of pure ambrosia. Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale smells sweet. Indeed ambrosia, food of the gods. He smells of almond and honey, gingerbread and chocolate. Of marzipan and peach. So delicious that it seems having a taste might be a sin on its own. 

A surprised and a rather embarrassing squeal sounds off of Aziraphale when Crowley presses a very soft kiss in the crook of his neck, paired with a lick that emitted a small moan of the demon. "Don't you taste divine." The demon mumbled with a smirk as he drew away and looked at the wide-eyed angel again.

"Crowley I think you better stop. You are crossing a line." The angel tried to get out only to feed the demon's tight grasp on his waist.

"I don't think so." He said, eyes wild and angry.

Finding some of his lost courage the angel squares his shoulders and raises his voice: "As I said, I do not want to speak to you. I want you out of my bookstore and we will not be seeing each other for at least a hundred years!"

With an inhumane growl, the demon slams the angel back against the bookshelf and yells: "If you think I will release you for a hundred years you have lost your mind! Do you not see what you do to me! Do you not see how you tempt me? How your very scent makes me want to own you? How I want to lay you on my bed and stay with you forever. How I wish to bruise your lips with my kisses and mark your skin for all to see!"

"What sinful things you say, Crowley! Let me go this instant."

"No. I don't think I'll ever let you go again." The smile on the demon's face turned cold and demanding. "Do you have another? Huh!? Perhaps you allow yourself to be touched by Gabriel?" 

"What? No! I would never!" Angel said trying to get a word in.

"Then why aren't you mine?!" The demon's eyes went black. Never before had the angel seen him like this and it scared him. "Don't cry, angel..." He mumbled when he saw a water rise to the angel's eyes: "I will make you mine and then we can be together forever."

"I don't want to be yours!" Aziraphale squealed and tried to duck from under the demon's hand, but he had learned after the car incident and with reflexes the speed of lighting he pulled the angel back and pushed him against the bookshelf with his body.

With a rage-filled growl that echoed in the bookstore and slams their lips together in a bruising kiss. He grabs onto the angel's hair, burying his fist into it as he pulls the angel's head back so he can get a better angle and deepen the kiss. He pressed the angel against the shelf and his kissed are burning and demanding. They ask for love, adoration, ownership, commitment, and lust. Their lips are fire against each other and the angel lets out a painful whine when his grip tightens. Wordlessly his touches repeat: 'Mine, mine, mine, mine. I'll never let you go.' It is like an unworded dark mantra repeating in Crowley's head.

Crowley licks Aziraphale's bottom lip, asking for entrance and is denied. Angry, he bites down to the affection of his kisses and tastes blood in the kiss after a painful yelp from the angel. Taking advantage of the open mouth Crowley dives forward and truly tastes the angel for the first time. He coaxes the angel's tongue into a dance and runs his hands across his body. Oh, what heat they create. "Mine." Crowley moans into the kiss and finally, the angel reacts. With a hard shove, he pushed the demon away, surprising even himself that he was able to fight.

The demon looks wild. His eyes dart all over the angel and grin at the sight in front of him. The angel's white hair is a mess, his lips plump and red from the fierce kiss and blush has spread like wildfire on his face. He looks utterly ravaged.

"What is wrong with you?" The angel asks somewhere between anger and disbelief. How he holds onto seeing the good in people. He can't force himself to believe that the demon would do this to him in his right mind.

"You. You are what's made me like this. I want you. I want you in all aspects of this world. I want your love and your kisses, I want your body and your moans. I want your gentle gaze and your loving embrace. I want to own you. And I'll make you mine no matter what you say." The demon praises some twisted version of love with a lustful gaze. And truly seeing him like this scares Aziraphale. This being in front of him is not his Crowley. This is someone else entirely. 

"You've gone mad..." The angel whispers, his fingers on his lips. He tries to slowly sneak away. He feels like pray in the eyes of the demon.

"They say love makes people crazy." And for a second there the angel sees a glimpse of his friend.

"This isn't love." He mumbles. "Love doesn't hurt like this. Love is gentle and special, not raw and bruising."

Crowley glared at the angel. "You're wrong. You didn't give me love when I was gentle. You only gave me friendship. You didn't give me love when I slowed down, or gave you your favorite things or spent every single second I could with you. You didn't give me love when I asked you to run off with me. You gave me rejection." The demon spat out the last word as if it burned his tongue and started to approach the angel once more. "So I learned that love must be taken."

"You're scaring me." The angel said when the demon cornered him again. "I won't allow you to own me and if you try and take my love by force I will never speak to you again."

This halted the demon. He looked at his friend and seemed to come out of a dace that had been haunting him since that rejected kiss. The world seemed more clear and a long headache disappeared. He looked at his friend clearly for the first time since he'd opened that car door for him many moons ago. While the angel seemed to regain a glimmer of hope in his eyes, seeing his friend's eyes turn to normal the angel missed it completely. All he saw was fear and betrayal. He saw the loss of trust and a name dying on the lips of the angel.

He was silent for a second and even the angel seemed to notice something changing. Something almost aking to a thick smoke dissipated from the air and the taste of Aziraphale turned to ash on the demon's tongue. "God... What have I done?" He whispered as he looked at the angel in disarray.

And just like that, the demon was gone...


Chapter Text

Aziraphale stood silently for a moment. Well not silently. He did not speak, but his breathing was more than loud. He placed a hand to his chest and tried to steady his speeding heart. What had he seen in Crowley's eyes? Something had been so strange in them...


The doors to the bookstore had been left wide open by Crowley, like an invitation to follow. "Crowley?" Aziraphale called out when he saw that the demon had left his car behind which certainly was his true love. Perhaps he hadn't left after all. Certainly, the demon wouldn't forget his own car? But it certainly seemed that way, when Aziraphale got no answer.


A harsh, cold wind blew in through the doors and Aziraphale finally moved to close them. He stood, leaning against the closed doors for a moment as his mind raced a mile a minute. He touched his fingers to his lips, remembering the utterly passionate kiss. He thought of how angry Crowley had been, how obsessive and passionate. How out of his mind seemed. And how his eyes had glowed. Aziraphale was sure he'd seen that tone in his eyes before somewhere. Once, long ago...


But no matter what, even when he stopped thinking about the way Crowley had acted and focused only in his eyes, he couldn't remember where. 


Finally, his mind cleared. Crowley was out there, a demon in the cold. That was never a good match. Demon's didn't do well in cold. Or at least not in a cold as biting as this one. Snow was not for Crowley. He liked damp and the sun, but not what he called: the white angel shit that flowed down from the sky.


And just then it hit him. Like lightning from the sky. Crowley was bewitched. He'd seen those eyes before over 400 years previous. The eyes of a monk had turned golden before his eyes after the demons had recruited a witch to aid them. Both heaven and hell had been fighting over that monk and Aziraphale had been just about to win when the monk had gone on an enchantment induced rampage and eventually turned dark. Aziraphale had known there were still witches around other than Anathema, but he didn't think any of them would be stupid enough to bewitch a demon. 


Aziraphale did a rash decision he didn't think through: "Forgive me father." He whispered before he grasped his coat and rushed out of the door.


He started following the footsteps that had sunk into the snow after Crowley. The strange shape of his snake boots were easy to follow. On his way Azirapahale didn't think of much. His priority was to find his friend and bring him safely home to the bookstore where he could be warm. He didn't even stop to lock up, risking losing all of his precious books. 


"Crowley?" Aziraphale called once in a while when he thought he saw the demon's shadow behind a building or heard his voice from distance. But the demon was never there. It wasn't until Aziraphale entered St James park that he saw the familiar shape of the demon hunkered down on their bench, most likely wishing that the ducks were here.


"Crowley..." Aziraphale sighed in relief.


"Stay away Aziraphale. I hurt you. Something's wrong with me." Crowley mumbled.


"I know. I could see it in your eyes. They were glowing." Aziraphale agreed, keeping his distance as the demon wished.


"Huh?" The demon's voice was quiet and his teeth clattered in the cold every time he loosened his jaw. His body was shivering and Aziraphale wanted to help his friend, but when he tried to take a step toward him, Crowley would seeth at him to get back. 


"I don't think you were being yourself. You were bewitched. I could see it from the gold in your eyes. There must be a witch around." Aziraphale said.


"No witch would be stupid enough to bewitch a demon." Crowley stated angrily.


Aziraphale didn't want to fight: "Let me take you home. You'll freeze to death here."


"I'd deserve it." Crowley mumbled. 


"You don't... Crowley, please. Come home with me." Aziraphale took determined strides to Crowley and placed his palm to the man's cheek when he crouched down. The demon was ice cold...


"No. I'll just attack you again." Crowley tried to shake his head, but he felt too weak. 


"None of that now, Crowley." Aziraphale stripped of his jacket and placed it around the demon. "Get up now, we're leaving." 


Crowley struggled to get upright. His whole body was rigid and cold. He felt like he was half frozen and he didn't like it one bit.


An hour it took them. To get Crowley to the bookstore and to light a fire. By the time they were there, his whole skin was almost as white as the snow itself. His limbs were so exhausted he could barely stand up and he drifted between being awake and falling asleep. And so as Aziraphale had once seen Crowley do, he built the demon a nest.


That's what demons did when they got cold, built a nest of blankets or pillows or anything soft and warm they had at hand and got in front of a fireplace or somewhere warm. It was private because in a nest a demon was most fragile. Unable to defend himself if ever deemed necessary. Calm and unguarded.


So Aziraphale sat Crowley on the floor before the fireplace, burned his own fingers when getting the fire started and then took all the blankets, throw pillows and bedcovers he could to cover Crowley with them, until just the head of the demon was visible from under a thick mountain of softness above him. 


Aziraphale sighed and made tea, he kept his eyes on Crowley whenever he could, until he settled in by the demon, he stared at the fire and all he could think about was Crowley's hair and how much it reminded him of fire. Absentmindedly he ended up petting Crowley's cheek soothingly until the demon woke up.


The first couple of timed the demon woke up, he fell asleep quite quickly after making sure he was safe. He always met a wave of calm when he looked at Aziraphale and just closed his eyes once more. In fact, it seemed like the demon was making sure Aziraphale was still there, rather than his own safety. Or maybe they meant the same thing. 


It wasn't until the morning when Crowley fully woke up. He enjoyed the heat and weight of the blankets above him and settled even deeper into their softness. He focused on Aziraphale's fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as he heard the angel flip through the pages of a book.


"Shiego right?" Crowley mumbled after a moment.


"Yes. That was the name of the monk wasn't it?" Aziraphale noted with a soft nod while continuing his reading calmly. 


"Was it the same spell?" Crowley asked.


"I think so." 


The conversation had no bounds. It was comfortable and relaxed like two life long best friends speaking about the weather. Aziraphale was no longer shying away from Crowley, rather taking care of the demon and the two had already let go of the previous actions of the redhead.


"I didn't mean to hurt you..." Crowley mumbled.


"I know."


"Forgive me." Crowley whispered, looking up at the angel's eyes that were entranced on the pages of the book. 


A soft smile graced his face and the angel looked down: "I already have, dear."


"But the spell made the monk angry... Why did it make me... Like that?" Crowley asked, swallowing as he sounded out the question he desperately wanted an answer to, and yet he feared the possible response. 


"Well... I found the spell in one of my books. It reveals our deepest hidden feelings, rather than makes the affected just angry. The monk wanted to be calm and kind, but inside he was hiding deep anger to the world. You, on the other hand, had spent at least a millennia hiding your love for me."


"More like six millennia." Crowley mumbled silently, but a small realization came to him after that. "You knew?"


"Well yes, I for one did not think my feelings for you were not returned. I was afraid I might fall. Although I already fell for you in a way, but I was afraid of truly falling. Becoming a demon. Although I am in love with one, I'd still rather stay an angel myself." Aziraphale stated as if what he was saying was like listing out everything he wanted to eat. 


"What?" Crowley whispered.


"But God seems to not have struck me down yet so I suppose we are in the clear." 


"What do you mean?" Crowley asked, confused by everything. His mind was muffled and his thoughts unclear. He didn't know what was going on.


"What I mean is that as of today I will be just as possessive of you as you are of me. You are mine now, just like I am yours. I fell in love with you that day you burned your feet in that church and I do not intend to fall out of love anytime soon." Aziraphale read his book, with a small knowing smile on his lips. The demon was flabbergasted and the angel adored him. "So what I'm saying is... I love you Crowley." At this, the angel cascaded his eyes to his demon and for the first time, Crowley felt a heat in his chest from somewhere else than actually just being warm.


"I love you too." The anger disappeared from his heart and he smiled as he placed a soft kiss to the lips of his dear angel. 


Nothing else needed to be said, the demon and the angel stayed there together, no matter how uncharacteristic it was for the angel to lay in the nest of a demon and somewhere far off God smiled. One of his angels was bringing a son of his home. Crowley was coming home