“You see, I… I won’t ask you for forgiveness,” Aziraphale dithered. He had hardly even looked Crowley in the eyes since he returned to earth. “I know I have no right to expect that of you, so I won’t ask; I shan’t even hope for it.”
Crowley could hardly believe his eyes that his angel had actually returned. He was endlessly grateful that the angel was still himself despite spending the last few months in Heaven, though he was much more jittery and nervous than he had been before… Well, before what happened the last time they saw each other.
“I swear to you,” the angel continued, pointedly looking away and not noticing the demon stalk ever so closer to him. “That the moment I’m done I’ll be on my way and I’ll leave you be. You won’t ever have to see me again if you don’t wish to. But you must understand…”
Here Aziraphale’s eyes squeezed shut. He curled up on himself a bit and his hands folded together were wracked with a faint tremor.
Crowley said nothing and continued to silently approach the angel as he rambled on with his little speech.
“Please understand that… I only wanted to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted. This was the only way I could do it— the Metatron— he would have— and I couldn’t…” Aziraphale kept his eyes shut tight. The tremors got worse as he fumbled for his words. “If I lost you, I’d have nothing. Not all the books and desserts in the world could console me if I lost you, Crowley, because… Because…”
Aziraphale sucked in a harsh breath and finally, finally, spoke what he had failed to confess for the past six millennia.
“Because I love you. More than anything, Crowley. If you know nothing else, at least know that. If you never wish to speak to me again, if you never want to see me again, please, at least know that. Please… please…”
Finally, Aziraphale opened his eyes and was startled to see the demon right there in front of him, glasses missing and eyes burning with a stern pertinacity.
“Silly angel,” said Crowley before pulling his wings out and pouncing on him.
Aziraphale hardly had time to gasp before he was knocked to the ground, head protected by the demon’s hand before it could hit the floor. He blinked and looked up to see Crowley crouching over him, shifting one hand to support himself as he lowed his head down closer to Aziraphale’s. His other hand shifted to gently rest on Aziraphale’s side.
“You make it so frustrating to love you,” he spoke softly, barely above a whisper. “…And I love that too.”
And if Aziraphale brought his arms around Crowley’s torso to pull the demon’s body against his in a crushing embrace echoed by the angel’s heartfelt sobs and apologies?
Well, the only thing Crowley would hold against him was himself.
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