Tears of Worship
Collaboration between cheeseplants and jesmalestiel (Originally posted on AO3)
Summary:
After Armageddon’t, Shax comes knocking on Crowley’s door to inform him that he has three days to vacate the flat, as it is the property of Hell. At first Crowley resigns himself to living in the Bentley, but then it occurs to him that, well, there’s always the bookshop.
—
Crowley is overcome when he finally gets what he has always desired.
Notes:
This story was written for GOAD’s Autumn Kink event, the Fall Ball Kink Thrall Slow Dance. Our prompts were “Body Worship” and “dacryphilia”. Thanks so much to xenanigans and Starlightdreamerstar for their wonderful beta work on this story!
Cheese’s Personal Note: I love these two prompts together! Thanks so much Jes for being an awesome collab partner ❤️ Hope you all enjoy it.
Jes’s Personal Note: This was my first time doing a collab and it has been 🧑🏾🍳💋. Thanks so much to Cheese for creating this story that I love, and I hope that y’all readers do as well!
TW: lite body dysmorphia, see end notes for detais.
Tears of Worship
Crowley was, much to even his own surprise, whistling. It had been a long, long time since he’d been in such a good mood. He had just gotten back from a wonderful dinner with Aziraphale at his Angel’s favourite sushi place around the corner from the bookshop. They had walked back to the shop arm-in-arm before Crowley bade him goodnight and drove back to his flat in Mayfair. Now he was ready to get some sleep in his sinfully comfortable bed.
Just as he snapped on his most comfortable pyjamas, there was a banging on his door.
Frowning, Crowley cocked his head to the side. Reaching out his senses into the occult plane, he was startled to realise that there was a fellow demon knocking on his door.
He stormed towards it with a scowl on his face.
“What do you want?” Crowley hissed. “I thought I made it clear to the legions of Hell that I wished to be left alone?”
“Yes you have,” the demon at his door replied stiffly. “As such, I, Shax, Demon of the Fifth House, have been sent to live among the humans as Hell’s representative on Earth.”
Crowley arched an eyebrow. “And? What does that have to do with me? It’s your job now; I’m certainly not handling your onboarding process.”
“Well no, I don’t expect you to, but I will need you to vacate this flat.”
“Want to run that by me again? This is my flat,” Crowley scoffed.
“No, it’s Hell’s flat. And you’re being evicted,” Shax sniffed. “As a courtesy, you will be given three days to vacate the premises. After that, anything left here is mine.”
Shax swiftly turned on her heels before striding away from Crowley, her form wisping away into smoke as she did so.
Crowley groaned. This was the last thing he needed, but getting kicked out of his flat wasn’t the end of the world, they had averted that. And yet being kicked out with only a three day notice was still a huge inconvenience. Groaning, Crowley flopped onto the bed.
He only managed to close his eyes for a few moments before they flashed open again. Shax had given him three days, but now that Crowley was aware that the flat was not actually his, he had no desire to stay there any longer, especially not while unconscious, and so he began to pack up all of his most valuable possessions. Crowley was a minimalist at heart, but one could not live for over six thousand years without collecting at least some possessions that had a degree of sentimental value. Still, he was surprised to find that everything he owned could be neatly packed into only two suitcases, barring the plants of course. He had no real attachment to the furniture, though he spared a moment to lament the loss of his bed. But as he currently planned to live inside his car for the foreseeable future, it was not as though he had the space for it.
With a snap his suitcases found themselves in the boot of the Bentley. His plants were carefully put into open boxes and carried down manually. As much as he cursed at them, they were still his babies; not that he would say as such out loud, lest they develop egos and he damage his own reputation. A miracle down to the car wouldn’t exactly hurt them, but he did not like to take chances.
Settling himself into the Bentley, it occurred to Crowley that he did not actually have to sleep in the car. He had slept on the couch in Aziraphale’s back room a number of times, and Aziraphale would be unlikely to reject him and his plants staying over for a few weeks while Crowley searched for a new place.
—
Aziraphale had read in a magazine a long time ago about the importance of a nighttime routine. The fact that he did not sleep did not stop him from following the same daily ritual every day. He didn’t need to brush his teeth or wash his face, but found the experience of it quite refreshing and had taken to doing it each night.
He would put on a pair of plaid pyjamas and nestle into the warmth of a four-poster bed he had bought at a second-hand market years ago; it reminded him of a particularly enjoyable stint during the 16th century, during which he would often find himself laying amongst luxurious pillows and large throws. Thank Heavens for the invention of the feather bedspread in the 14th century; he was sure to lose his mind if he had to lie on yet another pile of badly compacted straw.
He slipped under the covers, wiggling his toes happily. It had been a nice day, nicer than maybe any he had known in a long time. Crowley had been in a jovial mood, sniping at him with a delectable charm that Aziraphale couldn’t help but adore. They had eaten and drank well, and then Crowley had even walked him home, tucking an arm into Aziraphale’s elbow as they sauntered to the bookshop. Perhaps the wine was the cause, but the night had filled him up in a way he was sure he had never felt before.
Aziraphale sighed, picking up a copy of his favourite Austen, and opening a well-worn page. Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door. Heavens, who would be calling at this time? A sick feeling of dread curled around his spine. Crowley? He was the only one who ever appeared at such hours, and only when something bad had happened. How long had they been in this state of freedom? Weeks? Or just a few days? Hmpf, Aziraphale let the warm feelings he had been holding onto melt away, he stiffened, standing into his slippers and walking tentatively towards the door.
“Angel,” Crowley stood holding a large box of plants. Behind him, several more plants sat ominously.
“Are you okay?” Aziraphale said, trying to calm the alarm that was hammering in his chest.
“Jus’ thought I’d come over,” Crowley said, and only then did Aziraphale notice what he was wearing.
“In your night wear?”
“Shit,” Crowley said, he looked down as if he had forgotten he was wearing a pair of silken black pyjamas that left almost nothing to the imagination. It was a good job that he was holding a box or Aziraphale might see more than he bargained for. “Had to leave in a hurry.”
“My dear boy, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, stalking in and placing the box on a side table, promptly going back to fetch a large palm tree that swayed in the wind. Aziraphale got quite a view then, as Crowley bent down the silk clinging to the crevices into his thighs, that tight boney arse fully on show. He held in a gasp.
“But why have you—”
“I need somewhere to stay,” Crowley said; he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyebrows, those yellow eyes pleading, a rare sight in the demon.
“Why of course, you needn’t look so worried. The bookshop is as much yours as mine.”
“Hgn, sure,” Crowley said.
“I only have one bed I’m afraid.”
“S’fine, I can sleep down here.”
“But you’ll catch a frightful chill, it’s not—”
“It’s fine,” Crowley said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t stand to look at Aziraphale any longer. Well, fine, perhaps Aziraphale’s corporation was not quite as alluring as Crowley’s in his silk, but it wasn’t that bad, was it? He squashed down any thoughts that had begun to surface at the idea of the demon’s lithe figure pressed against him in the middle of night.
He fussed a little, finding Crowley a blanket, trying to give him a cup of tea he refused; he even brought him a book if he needed something to lull him to sleep, but Crowley waved him off.
As he walked back to bed, something beat in his heart; Crowley was living here. How odd. Surely, that didn’t mean anything.
“Goodnight, dear.”
“Night, Angel.”
—
Crowley had vastly overestimated how comfortable the couch would be. Previously, when he had found himself unconscious at the bookshop, it had been under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol, and it was not so much a case of going to sleep intentionally as passing out mid-conversation and waking up tucked under a tartan blanket that looked like it should be scratchy but was actually quite soft.
Though perhaps it wasn’t so much that the couch was not comfortable, but more the fact that his whirring mind would not let him sleep. There was a buzzing underneath his skin that he could not quite explain. Being a demon he did not really need sleep, although he did quite enjoy it. Normally when he was feeling like this in the middle of the night he would go to a club to drink and dance the energy away. If he also made a point to make sure that no one ever got their drinks spiked or was forced into a situation they did not consent to, that was between him and God, and she had not talked to him for millenia.
Nevertheless, he could not leave now. He had shown up at the Angel’s doorstep at midnight on a Thursday, carrying plants in nothing but pyjamas, asking for a place to stay. The idea of leaving and having Aziraphale think that Crowley only came to him because he wanted a place to keep his plants while he went out on the town made Crowley’s skin crawl. He cast the blanket to the side and sat up, staring blankly at a shelf that contained, to no one’s surprise, books.
What was surprising was the fact that they were comic books. It had been less than a week since Crowley had been in the backroom, but somehow in that time Aziraphale had amassed three shelves worth of comic books and graphic novels, and what looked like another couple boxes besides.
Because he was nosy, Crowley started combing through the collection before grabbing a couple and heading back to the couch. Just as he started to get really into Moon Girl and the Devil Dinosaur, Crowley found himself interrupted by a cough from the doorway. He instinctively miracled the book back to where it had been on the shelf, though it was clear from Aziraphale’s bemused smile that he had managed to spot Crowley’s reading material.
“Apologies for the interruption my dear. I don’t want you to think I object to you reading anything I have here. I was just wondering if you might want to share a cup of cocoa with me? I know you declined tea, but as you know I prefer to make it the human way, and it appears that I made a little bit too much.”
Aziraphale was fiddling with the hem of his pyjama shirt, and Crowley abruptly realised that he had been staring.
“Wot? Oh, yea, sure,” Crowley replied, doing his best to affect an air of nonchalance even as his heart raced. Aziraphale’s hesitant smile brightened.
“Wonderful! Is it alright if I join you in here?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley felt himself flush.
“O’ course Angel. It’s your bookshop.” Crowley swung his legs to the floor as though to make room for Aziraphale on the couch before freezing slightly.
He and Aziraphale rarely shared the couch. The couch was Crowley’s and Aziraphale always sat in his chair. Nevertheless, Aziraphale took the invitation for what it was, and squeezed onto the couch next to Crowley, sitting perhaps a bit closer than he might have done otherwise.
With a snap, the mugs of cocoa miracled themselves onto the end table from where they had been in the kitchen. “Thanks, Angel,” Crowley told him softly, taking the mug offered to him. Something about the moment felt fragile. In the week since their failed executions and armageddon’t Aziraphale and Crowley had spent time together nearly every day. They were each circling around each other, the past six millennia of unsaid truths thickening the air between them.
Crowley closed his eyes and fortified himself as he listened to Aziraphale moan over the cocoa, thankful that the Effort he was currently sporting did not make his attraction as obvious as it might otherwise.
“My dear,” Crowley opened his eyes again as he felt Aziraphale’s caress on his face, “what happened?”
Crowley took in a shaky breath as he placed his mug down carefully on a coaster. “A demon came to my flat earlier.”
“What?” Aziraphale asked in alarm, nearly spilling his remaining cocoa on the couch were it not for a quick miracle from Crowley.
“Hey, no, Angel, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “They told me that Hell is claiming my flat as theirs, and I had three days to leave, but I couldn’t stand being there any longer once I realised the claim they had on the place.”
Crowley’s heart was racing as he realised that Aziraphale had not let go of his hand, but was instead tracing patterns onto his palm. “I, uh, didn’t know where else to go. But I figured you wouldn’t mind me kipping here for a bit while I searched for a new place—”
“Stay!” Aziraphale blurted out. Crowley was slightly taken aback at Aziraphale’s outburst. “I mean— you don’t have to stay, but you don’t have to go.”
“Aziraphale—” Crowley began.
“I don’t want you to go.” Aziraphale raised his hand hesitantly to Crowley’s face. “I want you to stay with me, I want you to want to stay, I want—”
Crowley cut Aziraphale off, pulling the Angel into a forceful kiss. Aziraphale froze for a second, long enough that Crowley thought he might have misunderstood, but before he could pull back Aziraphale had lunged into the kiss, swinging his legs over Crowley’s hips until he was sat in the demon’s lap and pushing Crowley forcefully into the couch. Given that neither of them needed to breathe, the kiss was able to go on for quite some time before they finally pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together. Despite the fact that oxygen was not exactly necessary for them to keep going, their corporations were used to it, and so they were each breathing heavily as they looked into each other’s eyes, and Crowley could feel a bulge pressing against his stomach where his shirt had begun to ride up.
“Angel, I love you,” Crowley breathed out softly. “I love you so much, I—”
“Oh darling, I know. I have known, and I’m so sorry I let fear stop me from telling you the same. I’ve loved you since before I knew I loved you.”
They kissed again, their hands beginning to roam. Crowley’s lips broke from Aziraphale’s, and he flipped their positions, kissing Aziraphale’s neck as he began to unbutton the collar of Aziraphale’s pyjama shirt.
“My dear, oh!” Aziraphale moaned. “My dear, do you think we might be more comfortable in my bed?”
Crowley paused, looking up into Aziraphale’s eyes. “I would like nothing more than to go to the altar of your bed, Angel. I want to worship you.”
“Oh Crowley, I’m not sure I deserve—” Crowley cut Aziraphale off with a kiss before standing up and pulling Aziraphale into his arms. “Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped.
“Yes, that is my name,” Crowley smirked as he carried Aziraphale out of the room. “It sounds wonderful in your mouth, which makes such pretty sounds.”
Aziraphale’s face grew hot, but he made no further protests as Crowley brought him to his room— which Aziraphale had the sharp thought that it would likely be their room going forward, but before he could long linger on that thought Aziraphale found himself being pressed into the mattress.
–
Aziraphale had barely had time to think between having his first sip of cocoa and tasting the delights of Crowley’s mouth, but now here they were, sinking into the warm, soft mattress of Aziraphale’s bed.
Crowley began to fiddle with the top button of Aziraphale’s pyjamas; without thinking, the angel took hold of the demon’s hand, tightening the grip around his fingers.
“Angel, you alright?” Crowley paused, his knees digging into the flesh around Aziraphale’s hips, far too much flesh he thought. While Crowley was all skin and bones, all long lines and sharp corners, Aziraphale was always softer, rounder; while this had never truly mattered to him before, the sounds of Gabriel sneers were echoing in his ears, and he closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from falling into a panic.
“Angel? C’mon,” Crowley said, cupping Aziraphale’s face in his hand, looking at him as if he was the one who hung the stars.
“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” the angel said, not letting go of Crowley’s hand.
“Maybe this is a bit too fast,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale felt a short spike of guilt at those words. Too fast.
“No, no, Crowley, it’s not that, it’s not you, it’s… well, it’s me,” he said, looking down away from Crowley’s searing gaze.
“You? There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re exceptional.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Angel,” Crowley said, his voice stern, yet soft.
Aziraphale bit his lip, and looked up, eyes a little more moist than he would have liked. “What is it?”
“I’m too soft,” he said, feeling frankly ridiculous.
Crowley grinned then, almost wicked, but Aziraphale knew it was deeply kind. He suddenly felt rather silly about the whole thing.
“You think you’re too soft for me? You think that I don’t worship the ground you walk on?”
Aziraphale’s mouth turned into a perfect O, and Crowley dared to brush his hand up to his collarbone, his thumb teasing away a few wayward curls that framed his eyes. Aziraphale succumbed, finding it impossible to resist the demon’s heat as he whispered into his ear.
“You are beautiful,” Crowley said, and he kissed Aziraphale’s neck, a long, slow, luxurious thing that seemed to go on for lifetimes. Aziraphale moaned, as his heart fluttered in his chest and a pool of heat flowed into his groin.
Crowley’s fingers teased again at Aziraphale’s pyjamas, opening one button, peppering kisses along his collarbone, each one like the finest sips of wine on a warm day. He closed his eyes, focusing only on the fire rising between them, the sounds of Crowley whispering poetry against his skin; he was becoming lost in it, undone.
He found enough sense to bring Crowley up to his face, and he did so willingly, bringing him in for another kiss. The third, and there would be a forth, and a fifth and as many as they wanted for the rest of time. His lips twitched as Crowley greedily went for more.
“Enjoying this?” Crowley asked.
“I was just thinking about our future,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley stilled, he looked a little taken aback and Aziraphale felt cold. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— we don’t need to make any plans now.”
“No, it’s—” Crowley’s voice wavered a little, a choke rising in his throat, and he swallowed it back down. “I thought we’d never. You’d never.” He kissed Aziraphale again, harder, more passionately, as if he was sucking every last breath of air from his lungs, though luckily that wouldn’t matter. He was desperate now, clawing at Aziraphale’s clothes, until his chest was bare and Crowley paused, hair a delightful mess, staring as if he had seen the finest painting in the Louvre.
“What?” Aziraphale said, a little flush, still a little overcome that he was laying half nude in front of Crowley.
“Just you, just everything about you,” Crowley said, moving down to kiss a long streak of kisses along Aziraphale’s chest, each one as delicate as the last. This, Aziraphale began to think, was perfect.
Crowley’s mouth made its journey across Aziraphale’s chest in abject worship, eventually reaching Aziraphale’s left breast, taking it gently into his mouth as he swirled his dextrous tongue around the areola before pulling the nipple teasingly into his mouth, applying the lightest pressure as he held it between his teeth.
Aziraphale’s breath was coming in hitching gasps as he squirmed. Crowley’s mouth was busy, but that had not stopped his roaming hands, which were presently touching every piece of Aziraphale’s torso they could reach. He lovingly squeezed Aziraphale’s other breast; he tightly grasped the rolls of his stomach, scraping his nails with only the lightest of pressures, the gentle touch driving Aziraphale to the point of madness.
Crowley proceeded to kiss and nip his way across Aziraphale’s chest so he could capture the second breast in his mouth. Meanwhile, his left hand trailed downward, deftly undoing the button and zip on Aziraphale’s trousers and dipping his hand into the Angel’s pants.
“Hmm, what a lovely Effort you’ve made, Angel.” Crowley murmured as his hands lightly trailed against the lips of the cunt Aziraphale had switched to as a split second decision, having realised that if he kept the Effort he had started the night with, things would be over far too quickly. The only response to Crowley’s ministrations that Aziraphale could muster was a whimper, utterly overcome with the weight of the experience.
As an Angel, he was naturally attuned to feeling love, and there was so much love in all that Crowley was doing to him. The most miraculous thing about it was that this was not new. While this situation was undoubtedly new for them, never before having had such a carnal experience together, the emotion behind it was as familiar as his own corporation.
–
Many thought that demons could not love, that they were incapable of feeling it, sensing it, acting on it. That might be the case for other demons, but never for Crowley. Since before the beginning he had been enchanted by the Angel, had loved the Angel. And no, this was not new, and at the same time it was a revelation as Crowley pulled off Aziraphale’s trousers and pants, the Angel’s thick thighs covered in a fine layer of hair as light as the white-blond on his head.
Just as he had lavished attention on Aziraphale’s luscious chest, Crowley was now kissing and nipping his way up Aziraphale’s legs. As he sucked a pretty bruise onto Aziraphale’s soft inner thigh, Crowley was startled to realise that he himself appeared to be crying.
Aziraphale had rarely been outrightly cruel to Crowley, and had never tried to intentionally hurt him. In many ways, however, that was almost worse, as it showed that Aziraphale did care, and did want the best for Crowley. The pain of their separation, of the distance between them was all the worse because it was coming from a place of love. Now, however, they were finally finally able to express that love openly, and the weight of Aziraphale’s love, once free, was nearly enough to break Crowley.
Aziraphale seemed to sense the shift as he pulled himself out of his own overwhelm to gently caress Crowley’s hair, pulling his demon into a soft kiss.
“Oh my darling,” Aziraphale murmured against Crowley’s lips. The demon had let his eyes close on the tears as he rested on his elbows, lightly pressing his lithe body against Aziraphale’s. He was startled as he felt Aziraphale’s soft thumb brushing the tears away as he cupped Crowley’s cheek. “Crowley. You are so beautiful, do you know?”
Crowley sniffed, pulling himself up slightly to rest on one arm as he trailed his hand down the side of Aziraphale’s chest again. “Eh, I’m alright. Didn’t end up with the worst corporation. S’not as nice as yours, though.” Crowley shrugged, caressing the comfortable curves of Aziraphale’s stomach.
“Now my dear—”
“Please, Angel.” Crowley interrupted. “Please let me have this, let me have you.”
Aziraphale replied with a smile that was devastating in its sincerity. “My darling, I’ve always been yours, even when we could not admit it to ourselves.”
Crowley wept more silent tears in response, his senses overcome as he leant into his desire, into his need for Aziraphale. He continued to kiss his way up Aziraphale’s thighs before finally arriving at Aziraphale’s aching quim, which was absolutely dripping in slick. Crowley inhaled deeply, savouring the scent, before he slowly began to lap at Aziraphale’s cunt. As much as he wanted to make this last, he also wanted to make this good for Aziraphale, to worship the Angel as he deserved, so Crowley could not fully hold himself back. Once he got a taste for Aziraphale he was greedy for more, and eagerly drank Aziraphale’s juices, burying his face until all he could smell, all he could sense, was Aziraphale.
His tongue became more serpentine than usual as he extended it into Aziraphale’s core, undulating against the walls of his channel, submerged in that glorious taste. After some experimentation he was able to find the bundle of nerves that had Aziraphale arching his back as he came.
Crowley continued to give small, loving licks to Aziraphale’s cunt before the Angel tightened the grip he had on Crowley’s soft hair, pulling his demon upwards and engaging him in a soft kiss, tasting himself on Crowley’s tongue. “Oh my darling,” Aziraphale breathed in between kisses. “You are a treasure.”
Crowley’s face, already warm, was completely flush as he became overwhelmed by Aziraphale’s words. The tears falling from his eyes had slowed, but not completely stopped. “I do hope that those are happy tears, my darling.” Aziraphale softly caressed Crowley’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen there.
“I never—” Crowley’s voice was thick with emotion, the words struggling to come to the surface. “I never thought we that could be together like this, that we could share ourselves with each other like this, I—” Crowley took a deep breath, and Aziraphale nodded encouragingly, aware that these were things that Crowley needed to express in his own way. “Over six thousand years on this planet, and I know you know already, that you knew before, but we never said it, never with words, never with our corporations. And I could bear it; it was hard, but I could bear it, just for the chance to be near you. But I don’t know that I could go back to that again, Angel—”
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, and his demon fell silent. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel as though you were not loved, entirely, exactly the way that you are. I adore you, my darling. I don’t know what I would do with myself without you by my side. Our own side.”
For a few long moments they simply rested together, Crowley’s body pressed atop Aziraphale’s, his nose tucked into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. His fingers found themselves tangled in Aziraphale’s curls, and the Angel was running his hands up and down Crowley’s back in a way that sent sparks up his spine. Slowly and then all at once, Crowley became aware of how his cunt throbbed, seeking a release similar to the one that Aziraphale had enjoyed.
“My dear,” Aziraphale rumbled. “It occurs to me that you have taken great care of my needs, but neglected your own. Would you allow me the honor?”
Crowley’s heart beat faster at his Angel’s words. “Yesss.” The word came out more akin to the hiss of a snake than English. Aziraphale grinned into Crowley’s hair before using his angelic strength to rapidly switch their positions. Crowley yelped as he unexpectedly found himself on his back, only to moan when Aziraphale took a firm hold of his hips in a way that was sure to leave bruises, and left a biting kiss on his neck.
Aziraphale took his time wandering down Crowley’s body, much as his demon had done for him earlier. He took time to admire the way that smooth scales covered large swaths of Crowley’s chest and legs, and placed adoring kisses everywhere he could reach. Finally reaching Crowley’s quivering cunt, the Angel used his strong tongue to lick the length of his vulva, moaning at the taste of the demon’s slick. Crowley shuddered with pleasure as Aziraphale explored Crowley’s quim.
Much to his delight, he found that Crowley’s corporation included hemiclitores. As he lavished attention on each of Crowley’s clits, Aziraphale also pressed one thick finger into Crowley, much to his demon’s pleasure. Meanwhile, his left hand was caressing Crowley’s hip and the smooth scales that blended perfectly into Crowley’s skin.
Crowley’s blunt nails scratched at Aziraphale’s scalp in a way that was oddly soothing. After only a few short minutes Crowley came with a shout, Aziraphale happily lapping up his juices before Crowley, brimming with oversensitivity, pulled Aziraphale away with a gasp, hungrily kissing his Angel, the two of them delighting in the way that the taste of themselves and each other blended on their tongues.
After maybe minutes, maybe hours, they finally pulled apart, gasping. Despite the fact that neither of them really needed to breathe, it was a habit at this point. They found themselves lying face to face on their sides, eyes wide and vulnerable as they shared a satisfied and pleased gaze.
“Hi.” Crowley whispered.
“Hi.” Aziraphale whispered back.
The sun was beginning to rise, early morning filtering through the window.
—
Crowley sniffed a little, a single tear sliding down his face as Aziraphale brought himself close to kiss the raw skin where it fell. His eyes were a little puffy, yet Aziraphale relished the feel of them under his lips.
“Sorry, it’s stupid—” Crowley said, his torso tensing as Aziraphale placed a firm hand on his hip.
“For what?” Aziraphale said, running gentle circles with his fingers along the demon’s flesh.
“This; demons don’t— I’m not meant to—” Crowley’s chest heaved as a few more tears dampened his pillow, and he rubbed a fist across his face. Aziraphale had never seen anything like it. He had always loved Crowley’s eyes. He was sure he had never seen him look so beautiful; Crowley’s heart streamed forth from his eyes like pools of silver moonlight. They shimmered, and each drop represented a word not spoken, a love not uttered, and a moment lost.
“Let them fall, my dear.” Aziraphale moved Crowley’s hand away and kissed his cheek to catch each one, to make sure that not a single one was wasted. He tasted of salt and spice, of fire and brimstone, of home and love. Crowley’s cheeks twitched, widening under the press of Aziraphale’s lips.
“What a mess,” Crowley groaned, though his cheeks had begun to dry. Aziraphale laid back on the pillow, and their noses were touching.
“I think you look stunning.”
“Covered in bloody tears and demon snot.”
“And who else but me to witness such a wondrous sight?” Aziraphale said, Crowley gave a watery smile.
“All for you, angel.”
“Every drop,” Aziraphale said. “I love you, dear.”
“I love you, too,” Crowley said.
Aziraphale gazed into the orange hue of Crowley’s eyes, red bleeding into yellow, like the dawn of a new day and their new life rising behind the thick curtains of Aziraphale’s bedroom.
It was a nice day.
End notes: Aziraphale and Crowley are both a bit self-conscious about the physical appearance and relative desirability of their corporations, but they get through it with lots of love for each other and all self-depreciation is countered with love and appreciation for their forms.