Summary: Crowley has a bit of a self-revelation when his wings pop out upon seeing you.
Fic type: romantic fluff.
EVERYTHING: @winchxters
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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Crowley didn't even realise it at first. He was so busy watching you. You- so perfectly human. So perfectly ordinary. You weren't even doing anything super out there either- you were just... out on your balcony watering a plant.
And yet to Crowley, a demon of Hell and a fallen angel, you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. How could you not be, really?
When you turn around, Crowley's worried he's about to get whisked away by some horrifying Hell-beast sent to drag him back down under and no, he doesn't mean Australia. Although sometimes he had to wonder if Australia wasn't some elaborately planned prank to poorly imitate Hell. But that was a different question.
Anyway, where was he? Oh, yes, when you turned around and made eye contact with him, Crowley thought that given the look on your face, maybe Hastur had somehow made a triumphant return. That would have been less than stellar and Crowley wasn't quite sure what to make of the implications of that if it were true.
"Mm- what," Crowley asked, brows creasing in concern as he twisted his rather bendy neck to look behind him. Seeing a swish of black cross over his shoulder, Crowley wondered just what it could- oh. Oh. His- his wings were out. Why were his wings out?
"You- you're-" you stuttered, pansies forgotten and drowning under the water you were still pouring on top of them.
"I am," Crowley replied, just as confused as you.
"God, Crowley," you breathed, setting the watering can down without breaking your gaze away from the feathered appendages stretching and flittering against the breeze in your apartment.
"Mm," Crowley hummed. "Not so much on the first, but go on."
He's nervous, you realise. About your reaction. He's worried you're going to react negatively and he's going to have to leave you. Silly demon. You could never.
"They're gorgeous," you rushed out, stepping towards him, hand outstretched gingerly. "Can I touch one?"
"Sure, I guess," he answered, actually looking rather unsure. He swallowed thickly when you make contact, fingers softly trailing the ridges of a feather. "These old things- had them for ages. Since the dawn of time, really... Almost."
"Where'd they come from?" You asked, ignoring his rambling. "As in- just now?" You clarified quickly. If you didn't, you were sure to receive a deflective answer.
"Not sure, really. Think maybe- because I was thinking about something. 'Bout you."
"About me?" Your eyes darted to his and you immediately understood. You could see it in those slitted eyes. He was in love. With you. Crowley was in love with you. Not that you didn't already know that- what with having been together for a good few months by now, but he had finally really and truly come to the realisation on his own. You were his forever.
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