As new nestmates, there's a few things that need to be navigated for Crowley and Aziraphale, even though so many things are the same. One of them is the ritual of grooming that is done between nestmates.
Nothing had changed. Well, obviously, things had changed, quite significantly, even; they were now nestmates, honest-to-goodness nestmates, and there was no changing that. They’d promised themselves and each other that. No matter what happened, they would not give up on each other.
That being said, neither of them could help feeling apprehensive, to put it incredibly mildly. This wasn’t a case of a pair of teenagers disobeying their parents by being together. Well, perhaps there was an element of that, what with the role of Heaven and Hell and everything, but the penalty was rather more severe. It was like comparing a lighter to a star. Technically, they were both burning, but beyond that, there wasn’t much to compare with.
But as the days became weeks, and there still wasn’t so much as an increase in assignments or the amount of paperwork they had to deal with, Crowley couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief – while simultaneously feeling even more tense.
This couldn’t be right. They had to know. Somehow, they would have to know, so why wasn’t anything happening?
Another part of his brain argued that well, they’d kept their Arrangement a secret for almost a thousand years by this point, without either side suspecting a single thing. If they had, neither of them would’ve been able to carry on as they had, they knew that.
Why then, knowing that, did he suddenly bestow the powers above, or below, the accolade of observatory skills they had never yet exhibited? When they could be fobbed off with a well-placed memo why did he then think that they would instantly suss out that Aziraphale and he had become nestmates?
Unfortunately, he could answer his own question, at least to some extent. To the extent that explained why he was afraid, anyway.
What they had managed to…well, yes, fool them with was about what they did. The jobs they’d been sent to do, which none of the other angels or demons really had much track with. Not in the way that Aziraphale and Crowley had, in any case, nor to the extent. It was always easier to lie to someone who only had the vaguest idea at best of what the truth actually were.
When it came to something like this, however…this was about what they were, not what they did, and he couldn’t help the tendril of fear that on something like that, at the very least Heaven would be much more on the ball. It did, after all, split the focus of the angels that were involved in the nesting, on who and what they should love. In theory, anyway, as angels tended to fail to live up to their own brief, as it was.
Which in turn brought him back to the thought, the question of why the Almighty had created Her servants with such a handicap as that, in the sense of their intended, purported purpose.
He brought it up to Aziraphale, more than once and increasingly animated each time he mentioned it. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the angel didn’t seem as worried about the whole thing, despite the fact of…well, everything, really. He listened but didn’t make any comments or even any plans as to how they could deal.
At long last, after he’d asked flat out why he wasn’t worried, Aziraphale sighed heavily, put down the books that he’d been cataloguing – why he bothered when everything was neatly organised, even if it was to a system that only he knew and understood, was beyond the ginger – and pulled Crowley close.
“I am worried,” he said, quietly. “Very much so.”
“Then why the bleeding blazes have you been acting as though it doesn’t matter, or you aren’t bothered by it?” Crowley demanded, his arm waving animatedly in its gesticulation.
Aziraphale, surprisingly in the demon’s opinion, didn’t pause or falter. “Because I would be helping neither of us, but especially not you, if I were also to panic.”
“Panicking? Who says I’m panicking?” Crowley’s gesticulation was almost flailing at this point, mainly hampered by their closeness. “I’m not panicking, that’s absurd!”
“Of course not.”
“Why would I be panicking?”
“Because you’re understandably terrified of what they will do if they ever find out what we have done.”
“They will not merely send rude notes, that’s for bloody sure.”
“Destruction by rude note, that will certainly be novel.”
Aziraphale!”
The angel gave a small smile, which was warm but showing hints of both genuine worry and fear but also that inner core of steel. “I know how you’re feeling, dear. Honestly, I do. Don’t mistake me. But tell me…what other precautions can we take than what we are taking right now?”
He brought a hand up to caress a defined cheek gently, then cup the side of the jaw, thumb continuing to brush across the cheek. Crowley instinctively leaned into the contact, savouring it as he continued to look at his angel. He didn’t answer, though, because he had no answer to give. That was one of the problems, wasn’t it?
Silence reigned for a few long moments.
Then, very quietly “Would you want us to…divorce, for instance? Cease being nestmates?”
The words, the very suggestion that they would possibly stop being nestmates made Crowley snap for breath hard, his heart feeling as though it had just suffered an actual, physical punch. He would’ve shouted ‘no’ instantly and at the top of his lungs, if only he’d had the breath for it.
Aziraphale seemed to have been ready for the reaction, in a sense at least, as he made sure to steady his demon when his knees buckled a little.
Long-fingered hands came up to grasp hold of softened shoulders, hard and almost digging, as if that would somehow prevent him from leaving.
“No, I didn’t think so, either. Nor do I. As we’ve discussed before, I would never want to lose you as a nestmate. Apart from the option of returning to how we were, however – and even that is not a guarantee they won’t detect either of us are…divorced, as it were – I quite honestly cannot see what we can do about it.”
Crowley, still trying to get his breath back and stop the panic that had exploded inside, didn’t answer. He just moved somehow even closer and bent his neck so that he could rest his forehead against the angel’s shoulder, between his hand and where shoulder became neck.
Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the shape of his nestmate, as if to further ensure he wouldn’t go anywhere, no matter what happened.
“Please don’t leave,” Crowley said, his voice a little muffled from where his mouth was situated but nevertheless, it was insistent and Aziraphale heard him quite clearly.
“I won’t, dearest, I won’t. Never. I promise.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to the flaming red hair. “I hope you won’t, either.”
Crowley shook his head as though he was trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn wasp in his ear.
“In that light, I think all we can do is carry on as we always have and if things do turn south…then we’ll have to take it from there.”
Strictly speaking, they’d discussed that before as well but even so, it was a relief to the demon to have it confirmed.
Perhaps it was remnants of the unreality of it all, the sheer beauty and utter joy that went with their change in status and all that that had entailed for them, and the subsequent pure fear and dread that this was somehow indeed too good to be true. God could still be pulling the most massive prank on him.
What was it he’d read somewhere? “All this good fortune, all this fierce joy … it was wrong. Surely the universe could not allow this amount of happiness in one man, not without presenting a bill. Somewhere a big wave was cresting, and when it broke over his head it would wash everything away”?
Something along those lines, and didn’t it feel incredibly apt in the circumstances, even if he was a demon rather than a man?
Wait, hang on. Why could he remember something he’d read? When the heaven had he actually read, anyway? Maybe Aziraphale had read it aloud to him, as he sometimes did with books he truly loved and wanted to share. Crowley would never have his love of books, not even close to it, but he did enjoy the audiobook experience when it was tailored specifically to him by a very specific narrator.
So maybe it had come from there, a quiet evening where they just got to enjoy the other’s company.
Wherever it had come from, though, it had stuck and he couldn’t help but feel its aptness, perfectly summing up how he was feeling, even in the midst of his Paradise-on-Earth – which was infinitely better than the original, in his opinion, whose only benefit had been a fortunate meeting.
He tried not to let it take over his thoughts and, more importantly, not to let it show. Seeing as it tied into not only his fears and worries about the potential punishment from their headquarters but to all the negative and self-deprecating thoughts which he’d had prior to the two of them becoming nestmates about the impossibility of just that thing, it became a significantly more difficult prospect, even as he felt the relief from Aziraphale’s words.
The fact that he had his face hidden from view wasn’t much of a comfort.
But Aziraphale only held him tighter, turning his head to plant kisses on every part of Crowley’s head that he could reach, gently, lovingly. Being the anchor that he needed without saying a word.
Eventually, though he wouldn’t have thought he would, Crowley began to feel calmer. Not entirely so, the thoughts were still present, but in that silent interlude, he managed to…not so much push it into the background as pen it in and quieten it to a low murmur. Corral it into something manageable rather than outright banish it, helped by the words that Aziraphale had spoken and the reassuring calm that exuded from his body.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he straightened up. He didn’t try to otherwise put distance between them, though, and Aziraphale didn’t make him.
“No need to apologise. It’s a very legitimate fear to harbour.”
Crowley paused then came to a quick conclusion as he looked at the other’s face. “And you’re putting on a brave face for my sake.”
“I am not.”
“You are. That’s why you’re that calm about it.”
“I told you, I am not, neither that calm or putting on a brave face for you. I would not lie to you like that, dear.”
“You would.” It was an accusation, but it lacked any bite, the void of that filled with concern. “You would if you thought you were protecting me by doing it.”
Aziraphale opened his mouth, presumably to protest, then closed it.
“Yes, I suppose that is a very valid point,” he said after a few but long moments of silence, voice quiet. “But I promise you that that was not my intention. I won’t hide from you, Crowley. Not anymore, not on purpose. I cannot control everything, but I will try and won’t put protection over honesty. Okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” That he could believe, that he could lean against to face things, to rely on as his rock. Well, as part of the rock that was his angel, really, when it came down to it. Softness, love and chub concealing a steel core. “Sorry about – “
He was silenced by a kiss. “Shush now. No need for that. Not now nor ever. I understand.”
Crowley regarded Aziraphale for a moment. Then, his heart full of warmth now, the murmur of his fears very low indeed, he said, earnest and heartfelt, looking into the warm green eyes, “I love you, angel. I love you.”
The beam he got from saying that out loud was one that beat every other iteration of Aziraphale’s arsenal of smiles, all of which were wonderful on their own, and still did a number on his heart in the best possible way. He hoped that would never ever change.
“I love you, too, my dearest,” Aziraphale returned. “Nothing will ever change that.”
Crowley touched their foreheads together after stealing another kiss, saying ‘thank you’ without speaking the words. It seemed to get through to the other just fine.
They stayed like that for quite some time and then Crowley decided that it was time for bed.
Aziraphale protested that it was far too early to go to bed, quite apart from the fact that neither of them needed to sleep. Crowley ignored him.
Sleeping was one of his favourite things in the world and now that he had the option to do so with his angel – and his fears about what Heaven and Hell was going to do to them had been soothed enough that he wasn’t a nervous ball too tense to fall asleep anymore – he wasn’t going to pass it up.
Well, he had up until now, in a sense, he would have to admit. But there’d been other things for him, for them, to do and to explore with their changed circumstances, apart from the worry about whole being found out business.
Six millennia is a long time to wait and, for Crowley’s part pine, and even if Aziraphale had only become aware of his feelings very recently, comparatively speaking, he’d assured the demon more than once that it was more a case of realising what had been there for a very long time, it crystallising inside his mind in that moment rather than being born.
Given that, this change was new and fragile and oh so precious to them both and they were handling it delicately in terms of what they’d done since, as though it would shatter if they charged ahead.
Perhaps that was what he’d meant when he’d thought that nothing had changed. They’d thrust themselves into this whole other plane, as it were, of being nestmates rather than ‘only’ friends all at once. That was enough of a change to settle into, especially for being who could well regard a century ago as recent. There was no need for a radical change in behaviour or routines on top of that, not straight away, and so it felt safer, perhaps, to take it slowly.
There might be someone who’d point out that a lot of what they’d done, how they’d interacted for the last millennia or so, at least, could qualify on their own as dating and so it would only make sense that things might not feel that different, if different at all.
Nesting and consequently becoming nestmates were on quite another level compared to human dating, however, even if it wasn’t immediately visible by the standards that humans set for themselves. But Aziraphale and Crowley knew that it was there, and it resonated between them like the echoes of…well, the harp that the angels didn’t play.
Not to mention, of course, the little things, such as the touches, including kisses, and the general closeness and openness they now enjoyed. Being more explicit about the little gestures and tokens of love that they had hid from each other before.
And there were the feathers. In the bookshop, yes, on display but hidden so that they wouldn’t be inadvertently snatched by some customer Aziraphale somehow hadn’t managed to keep out of the shop, which would just be…no, that didn’t bear thinking about, either.
But there were also the ones that they carried with them. Which ought to be beyond stupid to do if they wanted to remain hidden if not for the fact that other angels, fallen or otherwise, would be able to detect the bond, for lack of a better term, they now had regardless.
And it was wonderful, Crowley had to admit, to be able to be parted from Aziraphale – and they were not joined at the hip, thank someone for that, and they never would be, however much they cherished the other’s company – and still carry a physical reminder of him that was part of him. It certainly beat what humans came up with, such as jewellery out of teeth and hair. Just…why?
Now, though…now he couldn’t help the want, the need for a bit of sleep and to have Aziraphale be there with him. Not for anything intimate or the like, just…being there.
The angel kept protesting all the way up the stairs to the small…well, to call it a flat was a tad overly generous, really, seeing as it was actually just a small set of rooms that had come with the building back when Aziraphale had bought it. What they had been intended for wasn’t clear, but it had been used for extra storage by the blond. That was, until Crowley had seen it one day after, well, and had miracled a bed up there.
Aziraphale had protested then, too, that there was no need for it, and it would only be in the way and where on earth did all his books go, really, Crowley, you can’t just –
And he’d shut up when the demon had pointed upwards to see the books neatly stacked all the way around the wall and underneath the ceiling. That he’d have to employ a bit of, well, trickery, to make more room than there actually was, it was certainly worth it.
He’d used it once or twice on his own since then, the smell of old books practically part of his nasal make-up at that point, but now he got to experience it with Aziraphale there.
The angel protested one more time when they made it up the stairs, though Crowley noted that he hadn’t made any proper attempts to pull out of his grasp or just stop.
“Crowley, this is ridiculous,” he tried, sounding only slightly exasperated. “We cannot go to bed at this hour, there are things I need to do. I’m not going to waste time – “
The demon looked at him, then, and his expression shut the angel up.
“I’m not asking you to stay for a long time or anything,” Crowley said, voice quiet. “I just want you to be there while I fall asleep, that’s all. I’d like to know what it feels like.” He couldn’t deny that ‘waste time’ had hurt, just a little, even though he knew Aziraphale hadn’t meant it like that.
The guilty expression had already started to form as he closed his mouth and realised what he’d said, but now it took over the soft face. “Oh. When you put it like that, then…”
He hesitated, then bit his lip. “Oh, good lord, I am an arse, aren’t I? I didn’t even think of that and I should’ve known – of course I’ll stay with you, dear.”
Crowley frowned. “You’re not an arse.” It was hardly his fault Crowley hadn’t made himself clear or that it hurt to hear him phrase it like he had, done entirely unintentionally.
“I’m afraid I am. I should’ve known better, in both regards, and I do apologise.” He squeezed the hand gripping his. “Will you let me make it up to you?”
Part of Crowley wanted to say, ‘there’s nothing to make up for’, while another wanted to ask how he would, and a third, albeit small part, wanted to make a smart-arse comment.
Instead, for once, his brain and body were clever enough to make him purely give a nod.
The apologetic but grateful smile from Aziraphale started to melt what little hurt was left.
Shit! Where the bloody heaven had that come from? He’d never meant to reveal that, under any circumstances, and yet, the words had just slipped out.
Perhaps he could play it off as though it was just a casual remark, an observation of what others did from time to time. Divert and deflect from the fact of his own unacceptable and discarded attempts.
There was one thing that thankfully popped into his mind, surprising himself somewhat with how far it’d have to have travelled from the depths.
“Well, you know,” he said, trying for nonchalant, “the first time you try, it might not come out anything like you imagined or you think the recipient would like. I know that when first Lord Beelzebub tried – “
“Beelzebub has never tried making a, a nest!” Aziraphale didn’t look horrified or even scandalised but his eyes were almost comically wide at the very idea, the original question pushed out of his mind for the moment, it seemed.
Crowley, who’d taken his hand from the nape of the other’s neck with reluctance when they’d parted, held it up. “As I live and breathe. We didn’t find out until they threw the remnants of it out onto some unsuspecting demon, right smack in the forehead. There was no doubt what they’d thrown out was for a nest, though, even if it was completely unfit to present to anyone – and nobody found out who they were nesting for.”
He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Come to think of it, I don’t know whether they tried again or if they were succesful later on. Huh. That’s…well…”
“Beelzebub?” Aziraphale almost spluttered. “The demon? The Lord of the Flies? Are you telling me that – but they can’t!“
“Why not? Because they’re a demon?”
It wasn’t meant to be needling or pointed, even though that perhaps at another he would’ve meant it that way. Right now, however, it was just a question, but Aziraphale reacted to it as though it had indeed been a needling.
“No!” he cried, quickly, almost urgently, his hand in Crowley’s tightening. “Not at – that was not what I meant at all. Of course demons can nest as well as angels can, if they are so inclined. Of course. But Beelzebub, that’s – that’s as unfathomable as thinking of Gabriel nesting for someone or have someone nest for him!”
Crowley would have to agree the point – and then his mind made a connection he wasn’t prepared for and had no idea how to handle. In fact, he couldn’t help but recoil from it somewhat.
“Crowley? What’s the matter?” Aziraphale asked, worried.
“I, ah, eh – can’t – it – Gabriel and Beelzebub!” the ginger managed to get out.
His expression was now mirrored in Aziraphale’s.
“No!” The tone of voice sounded more scandalised than horrified, though. “You don’t really think – but that, surely – “
“I don’t want to think about it,” Crowley exclaimed, emphatically, interrupting the angel, “not now nor ever. It’s just mindboggling and – eurgh. But especially not now. Not here.”
He pressed, lightly and carefully, down on the hand underneath his, which in turn pressed on the feathers, to make a point, possibly unnecessary, about the situation.
“No. Of course. Most definitely not.”
There was emphasis in the last sentence that went beyond Aziraphale’s normal range but why it was there wasn’t entirely clear, at least to Crowley. It did relieve something inside of him, though, a nasty little part, to hear Aziraphale talk about Gabriel that way.
Silence ruled for a bit after that, a comfortable, warm silence that was spent just looking at each other and, for Crowley’s part, basking in the tangible reality that had only ever been the loveliest castle in the air.
He was just about getting properly settled into that quiet enjoyment when, so quiet that others probably wouldn’t have caught it, Aziraphale said something.
“When did you…how many nests have you started to build then demolished?” he asked, green eyes scanning Crowley’s face, as though he needed further confirmation than he could get from the spoken answer itself.
Crap. It hadn’t worked! Or perhaps he could still salvage it, somehow. Could he lie? He supposed he could, but not only did he not in any way feel confident Aziraphale would believe him, he didn’t want to lie to Aziraphale. Not that he hadn’t, because of course, but this…
This really wasn’t worth lying about, was it? It would be embarrassing and he didn’t want to but…he would.
“I haven’t actually counted how – ” he began, then stopped. No, still wrong.
“…at least half a dozen, probably more over the centuries,” he corrected himself. Then he swallowed, forcing himself not to look away or try to play it off as nothing.
“And how many…” the angel licked his lip, quite unconsciously, it seemed. “Who were they for?” he asked, his voice somehow even quieter, to the point it almost sounded small.
…Did he not know? How could he not – hadn’t he figured it out already? At least after Crowley had admitted to…well, everything. Wasn’t it then more than obvious?
Though if he was honest with himself, was he really in any position to make that sort of judgment?
“For you,” he said, voice coming out a little hoarse, keeping his gaze determinedly fixed on the other’s face. He wasn’t aware that he’d tightened the grip, which had been slackened, on Aziraphale’s hand considerably. “I’ve only ever done it for you, angel. All of them were for you and then they weren’t good enough to…but even if they were, I was so scared of…and I’m sorry. So terribly sorry. I should’ve told you. Shown you.”
Though it might not make too much sense, he needed to say something, to combat the hurt and slightly dejected expression that had kept lurking behind those warm eyes ever since he’d mentioned he’d made nests, too. He hoped it would explain that it was nothing that Aziraphale had done or hadn’t done. It was all down to Crowley and his fears.
It looked at least to some degree as though he had managed to do so. Though the face remained unchanged in expression the emotion lurking in the eyes lessened considerably.
However, he wasn’t done yet. He had to make sure that he communicated the next part. “There’s never been anyone else for me and there never will be. You are my everything.”
He didn’t say anything about having mentioned something to that effect earlier, and not only because he didn’t really remember it, what with everything else that had happened.
It didn’t matter in any case. He’d say it a thousand times if Aziraphale wanted to hear it, really, or more, and mean it just as much every single time.
Aziraphale stared at him, seeming to have gone completely still.
Crowley would’ve worried – if he’d had the time.
Before he could, there was another noise as of a flock of birds taking off and the movement of air.
“Aziraphale…” Crowley breathed as he watched them unfold.
His yellow eyes threatened to take over the sclera, as they did when he forgot himself, while looking at the wings he hadn’t seen in their full glory – and they were a glory to behold, almost iridescent in their soft whiteness, highlighted perfectly by the glow of the light in the bookshop – since…well, really since the same day the angel had last seen his. The day they’d met.
Six thousand years and they were as beautiful as he remembered them.
So why did Aziraphale look slightly embarrassed? More than slightly, really, and not in a good way, if embarrassment could ever be positive.
“I’m so – I just couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he said, and it sounded like an apology, which was both puzzling and ridiculous.
“Keep it –? “Crowley began and his disbelief was clearly audible, “angel, were you – have you been keeping them in check until now?”
He got a nod, slow and reluctant. “Yes. Since you said, ‘I love you’. Well, longer, really.”
“But – why?”
Aziraphale didn’t answer.
“Aziraphale, why would you ever keep them in? Unless – you did lock the door?”
Another nod, emphatic, and Crowley relaxed a bit. “Okay. Right. But why, then?” Surely, if there was one time it would be okay to let them out, it would be for this occasion?
Perhaps he could persuade his angel – his angel! – to have them out occasionally, just for him to gorge himself on, on a both visual and tactile level.
Aziraphale seemed to have a different opinion on the matter.
“Because they’re…they’re not – yours are so exquisite!”
Wait, what? What did that have to do with anything?
“Angel are you seriously…?” he said, incredulous to say the least and entirely missing the compliment, as he reached out with his free hand.
At first, he went slowly but the blond tried to pull his wing back out of reach. So instead, to make sure he got a hold on them, the demon shot his hand out and grasped hold of, not a primary as he thought, which was frankly probably just as well, or he might’ve pulled it out unintentionally.
What he got hold of instead was the metacarpal, what would in a human hand be the bones of the hand itself, not the fingers. His grip wasn’t hard, not really, but he was out on the edge of the sofa by then and he probably used it unintentionally for balance.
Aziraphale gasped loudly at that and his wing shook. Surprised, and worried that he might’ve caused damage, Crowley let go, but that upset what little equilibrium he had, and he fell off the sofa.
Thankfully, he hit the floor with his knees first and managed to stay upright but before he’d had much chance to really comprehend what had happened – or think on why the heaven he hadn’t used his own bloody wings to keep himself upright – warm arms closed around him, underneath his wings, and he realised his torso was sprawled across a lap. His head was pressed into the lovely soft tummy to some extent.
But right then, he couldn’t spare the thought for it, since if Aziraphale’s arms were both around him and he could feel the hands on his back, then where was –
His head snapped up immediately. “Where -?”
“They’re – oh, my goodness, I think – “Aziraphale stopped but then he breathed a sigh of relief. “No, they’re here. Fell on the floor but I do believe they’re okay.”
With one hand still on Crowley’s back, as though wanting to make sure he stayed where he was, he reached down and when he rose back, he held up the four feathers for the demon to see, handling them as though they were made of glass.
There wasn’t a vane out of place.
Crowley made a face that he wasn’t sure what was, exactly, or was meant to communicate but he hoped that it was something positive. He tried to right himself so he could get back up on the sofa. Being this close to Aziraphale’s body was doing things that – was such a thing as spontaneous combustion possible for a demon?
The hand still on his back pressed harder for a moment as if to prevent him getting up but it relented almost immediately afterwards, allowing him to sit himself back on the sofa.
“Sorry,” Crowley murmured as he did so, with a guilty look at the wing he’d demon-handled, however accidental. “Didn’t mean to…is it alright?”
“Alright? Is what alright?”
“The wing! You gasped loudly and the wing shook, I assumed I was gripping it too hard or something! That you were in pain!”
“What? Oh. No, that’s not – I’m perfectly alright, my dear. I was merely…surprised. But thank you for the concern.” He gave a smile that looked genuinely grateful.
However, the pause before ‘surprised’ was just a fraction too long to be believable and in any case, it hadn’t sounded like a gasp of surprise. Pursuing that line of enquiry, though, didn’t seem the right move then and there, so he let it go. For now.
“Oh. Okay. Still, sorry for grabbing it like that. I didn’t – I just wanted to…your wings are beautiful and beyond lovely, Aziraphale. To look at and to feel. Just like the rest of you.” To be honest, his fingers itched to reach out again and run over the bone, following it from base to tip.
It was a statement of fact and wasn’t meant to be leering or even smirking. He could’ve done it like that, of course, but it didn’t feel right.
Regardless, it seemed to have shocked the poor angel more than a little.
“Crowley, I – do you really think so?” There was no coyness there but an honest question, which tore at something inside the ginger.
“Well, obviously. Always have, always will.” He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow but at the same time, he was smiling. “I’d be a bloody shite nestmate if I didn’t think so, wouldn’t I?”
The smile turned suddenly into a full-blown grin. “Nestmate. Nestmate.”
“Yes, indeed, “Aziraphale confirmed, and his beam was back in full force. “We are. We are, aren’t we?”
It was said with wonder in his voice but also something that was wavering and asking for confirmation that this was indeed the case.
Crowley knew exactly how he felt. In an odd way, though, that felt reassuring and made it more real and tangible. He could honestly not see how he would ever believe his imagination would cook up Aziraphale being uncertain and needing confirmation.
Before all of this, he would’ve said his little fantasy was about as perfect as it could be. He’d spent literal ages creating, tweaking and replaying it, after all.
Now, though…now he knew that even with all the little bits like the misunderstandings, the uncertainties, and the fumbling, both metaphorically and physically, this reality was a hundred times better and more perfect than his fantasy ever could be. It was better because it was reality and it did contain all of those little imperfections.
“We are,” he confirmed. Reassured. “We are! Finally!”
The word was out of his mouth before he was aware of it and he blessed himself and his stupid mouth.
“Angel, I didn’t – “he immediately began, trying to fix what he’d messed up, but, decidedly unexpectedly, the blond didn’t seem upset.
Putting the feathers which he was still holding down on his own thigh for the moment, Aziraphale gathered Crowley’s hands in his. They’d held hands in various ways a few times by now but even so, it sent a pleasant thrill through the ginger. He hoped that would never ever stop being the case.
“You can say ‘finally’ when you’ve waited – oh, Crowley, I am so sorry – “
“If you didn’t reciprocate, then you didn’t,” Crowley cut in.
He’d come to terms with that a long time ago. That was to say, to as much an extent as he could manage and not factoring in that persistent and resilient hope. Which wasn’t a very great extent, to be honest, not at all, but Aziraphale didn’t need to know that.
“You’re not obligated to reciprocate,” he continued. “Never. You can’t control your feelings nor should you.”
“Well…no…of course not. But you can be better at realising that what you were feeling was indeed what you were feeling, and I failed quite miserably at that.”
“You got there. Fuck’s sake, you were the one who started the ball rolling on all of this.”
“Well, yes, but – “There was the definite feeling that if his hands weren’t occupied, then he’d be wringing them slightly, “– oh, how are you so calm about all of this?”
“Calm? Calm? I’m anything but calm and I keep thinking that at any moment, you’ll turn into a three-headed kitten spewing hellfire or something and prove I’m dreaming.”
That made Aziraphale giggle, the sort of giggle that you’re surprised is coming out of your mouth, often because what was said wasn’t that funny.
“Why a kitten?” he asked when he could make himself stop.
“That was the part you picked up on?”
“Among others, yes.” There was a small pause. “Crowley?”
“Yes?”
“Could – can I please touch your wings?”
Oh, G-, Sa-, fuck, yes. Please. You don’t need to ask, angel, please touch them. Touch them as much as you want as long as you want. I can still feel where you touched them earlier and it has nothing, well, very little, to do with you making my feathers grow back.
“On one condition.”
“And what would that be?”
“That I can reciprocate, for as long as I want to.”
Aziraphale blushed at that but at the same time, his lips puckered in what could only be described as a smiling pout, something which was utterly adorable.
A plump hand disentangled itself from a bony and reached out slowly, though not hesitantly. Crowley held perfectly still as it came closer, his breath bated. It somehow felt more intimate than the earlier kiss.
It was fingers that touched first, where the middle primary coverts enclosed the radius bone. They moved over said bone as though…as though they were stroking across the cover of a newly discovered, exceedingly rare book.
A shudder ran through Crowley at that, hard. Not just because of the touch itself, however wonderful it was, but the knowledge that Aziraphale wasn’t just touching him, he was treating his wing as he would his most prized possessions in the world.
He felt the nastily lingering, stubbornly clinging uncertainties and doubts melt away in the face of that. What more proof could he possibly want or need?
Oh, how he loved his angel.
Before he knew quite what he was doing, Crowley had grabbed hold of the soft body and pulled him from the chair he’d been sitting in into his lap. Well-manicured hands grabbed hold of bony shoulders for support, even though he could’ve easily used his wings for balance.
That was, one hand grabbed hold. The other held the given feathers, snatched quickly from his thigh and then pressed against his chest.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale protested but there was no heat to it.
“Do that again,” Crowley said, his voice something of a rasp, which initially surprised him. Then it clicked.
Oh. Oh. Of course.
“Please,” he said.
“Crowley, are you – “
“Yes, I’m sure. Please bloody well touch them again.” He paused and shook himself. He shouldn’t be making demands like that. “Sorry, that was – “
His sentence caught in a gasped moan as a hand ran from his shoulder down the humerus of the other wing, down over the radius and the metacarpals, all the way to the tip of the phalanges, as gently and reverentially as he had before.
That it wasn’t a one-time thing, not the novelty of touching for the first time – it could be argued that it was the first time he touched that much of his wing but that wasn’t the same thing at all and didn’t really hold water – but, it seemed, something that was the immediate reaction to touching his wings in general…
That stole his breath. Not that he’d had much of it right now, but the point remained.
“Aziraphale…” he breathed. His hands on the other tightened and he instinctively moved his wing closer, both for getting them within easier touching range and for enclosing the other somewhat. Shielding him. Protecting him.
There was a bit of manoeuvring to it, on both their parts, so as not to knock into the blond’s wings but even though their wings were the same size and not exactly small, they managed it without knocking anything over and actually, with a surprising amount of grace and ease.
What he hadn’t expected was that the angel would not just tuck his wings in a bit to assist but would make a sort of counter-cocoon inside the embrace of the demon’s wings, low where Crowley’s went high.
The hand hadn’t been removed from his wing all throughout that, though how it had managed it he had no idea.
Especially not given that the other still held the feathers, pressed against his chest, shielding them in turn.
Slowly, the ginger moved his own hand up, with the intention of taking the feathers from Aziraphale. Not to take them back, though, merely to put them somewhere safe.
The moment Aziraphale saw his hand move towards his chest, though, he pulled away a little.
“No,” he said. “You can’t – you gave them to me. You can’t.”
“You what?” Then it clicked. “I’m not going to take them back, angel. I just wanted to put them somewhere safe.”
The angel relaxed a bit. “Oh. I see. Well, that’s…that certainly puts it in a different perspective.”
If Crowley then expected to be given the feathers, he was to be disappointed or at least surprised. Instead of placing them in the still outstretched hands, or even reaching out to lay them on the table, Aziraphale chose to switch hands. This was so he could slide the feathers inside the left side of his long jacket where there might’ve been a pocket, or he might’ve created one then and there, as Crowley had never seen him use an inner pocket there before or anywhere else, for that matter. The way the hand moved was…rather tell-tale.
Given that Aziraphale bought his clothes rather than miracle them into existence like Crowley did, which included alterations, the seeming fact that he had miracled something for the feathers, that was…quite something on its own, too. Something which sent a bubble of warmth, the warmth of a hot drink sliding inside a cold body, bursting inside the demon’s heart.
Joining that sensation was the fact that his solution to the problem, which was hardly a problem to start with, was to make a place where they could stay, protected, not just close to him but right above his heart.
If he had worried about not having realised sooner and, possibly, about plucking up courage to show Crowley how he felt, then he was certainly making up for it now and then some.
Compared to that, how could he ever hope to…to show the angel the same level of caring and love? He felt it, certainly, and so much more, but how could he show it in a way that didn’t seem as though he was merely mimicking the other? Or trying to outdo him, as though…
Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about who did what, to what extent and at what time, was it?
And in any case, he had something more important to focus on right now, hadn’t he?
The hand he’d reached out with still hung in the air as though frozen there, but he started to move it forward again, towards where the feathers had disappeared.
Aziraphale tensed up again at that, though he didn’t move this time. When the bony hand settled on top of his over the feathers, he relaxed once more.
“My nestmate,” he whispered, looking the other straight in the eye. “My beautiful, loving, perfect Aziraphale is my nestmate.” He allowed his love to shine through in his voice as much as he possibly could.
“For now, and forever,” Aziraphale replied, his voice very soft in turn but no less loving for that. “As you are mine, my dearest Crowley.”
“No matter what Heaven says?”
It might have come across as a pointed or even a needling question. Petty, someone might say. But it wasn’t. At least, that wasn’t how it was at all meant.
That wasn’t to say the angel would take it that way, which Crowley realised a few seconds too late. He opened his mouth to somehow take it back but was stopped by Aziraphale’s expression.
He wasn’t smiling and there was a pained look to his face but at the same time, there was the determination and steel from before.
“Yes. No matter what Heaven says.” There was no hesitation in the voice. “Or Hell, for that matter. They do not appreciate what they have had and therefore, they do not deserve it.”
A shiver ran down Crowley’s spine at that, one of surprise and delight. Well, that was definitely new from Aziraphale. He liked it.
“Same can be said for Heaven,” the demon said. “Just even more so.”
“If that’s the case, why…why were you then so convinced that I had fallen in love with any one of them up there rather than with you?” Aziraphale asked.
A NEW female osprey has been spotted visiting a nest at a wildlife reserve in Perthshire.
A NEW female osprey has been spotted visiting a nest at a wildlife reserve in Perthshire.
The ringed female, identified as NC0 originally from Loch Ness, made a fleeting appearance on Saturday at the Scottish Wildlife Trust’s Loch of the Lowes Wildlife Reserve.
She then spent more time at the nest on Sunday and Monday along with LM12 – a male who in that time made several attempts to breed with her.
Sara Rasmussen, the trust’s ranger in Perthshire, said: “LM12 and NC0 are still fairly unsure of each other.
“He has shown some defensive signs but there have also been attempts at mating.
“Birds can take time to build a relationship and so far they aren’t sharing fish in the same way that established pairs do.
Solitary female bees inspect other nests for signs of danger before making decisions on where to build their own, a new London-based study suggests.
Solitary female bees inspect other nests for signs of danger before making decisions on where to build their own, a new London-based study suggests.
The study, led by researchers at Queen Mary University of London, found the clever bees looked for signs of parasite infection in other species' nests and used this information to select a safe place to bring up their own brood.
The research team set up artificial nests in parks and grasslands across South East England and London from 2016-2018 to study the behaviours of different species of solitary cavity-nesting mason bees.
The scientists also tested the ability for these species to notice other cues of parasite infection in the surrounding environment.
They showed that solitary bees were surprisingly intelligent in their observations and were able to remember geometric symbols found next to parasitised nests, and avoid nests near these symbols in future breeding periods.
Lucifer sees Charlotte’s flat in season 3 and says "nice place you got here though, uh, could stand to nest a bit more". Angel’s nest. What would happen if Lucifer’s nesting instincts get the better of him? His bed full of pillows and blanket perhaps? Does he steal trinkets from others to line it with? Are feathers involved? Does Chloe find it? The possibilities are endless!
