#Aziraphale and crowley not being able to communicate properly??!?

[dingledraw]

“That's not what I asked” comic (2/2) based on the lovely art and fic by @chernozemm

Part 1

[gotholdladywithadhd]

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

[dantesmelancholicshitpost]

Okay, so I was thinking - I am sure everyone remembers the scene from s1 in which sister Mary and sister Theresa (the fact that Nina Sosanya and Maggie Service came back in s2 to tell Crowley to finally talk with Aziraphale is just something else in this context ngk) try communicating by winking and totally miss the mark. The scene that shows how often communication can be flawed and misleading and how it could lead to serious consequences. Especially when the other side doesn't have the full picture or understand our perspective.

Well...

I just cannot get it out of my head how the confession scene, even though words are very much used there, shows the same scheme, like:

When Aziraphale says: "I could appoint you to be an angel" he means: "You are the most deserving of being in Heaven - you falling was a mistake, but I can fix it. I can bring back your smile, make you as happy as you were creating the stars" but Crowley reads it as: "I can finally fix you, because I cannot love a demon. I can bring back the version of you that's easier for me to love"

When Aziraphale says: "Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever" he means: "I am willing to give up this bookshop and everything I love on Earth just to be able to have a happy and safe existence with you. You are the only thing I need" but Crowley reads it as: "Nothing lasts forever - not even us"

When Aziraphale says: "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you" he means: "I can finally make Heaven a place that deserves you" but Crowley reads it as: "I can finally make you deserve Heaven"

It's so devastating to see how they both confess in this scene. They both communicate their love, but they do so differently and end up pushing the other away. Their confession gets lost in translation. The things they try to communicate get all tangled up in the lack of understanding of the other's needs, desires and traumas and end up with totally different meanings attributed to them. How can they care so deeply about each other and still not be able to communicate it properly - I think it hurts even more than the scenario in which one of them rejects the other. There is no rejection there - just misunderstanding and miscommunication, which leads to them falling apart.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

@teddybearbutchh and i might have just worked out something whilst we were screaming, once again, about This Face:

because it's practically obscene, right?! aziraphale you need to rein it in, babes, now is not the time-

-but the thing is why aziraphale makes this face which, arguably, is relatively anomalous when compared with other faces he's thrown at crowley when crowley isn't paying attention.

on one hand, you could take it down the horny route - the look is certainly heated enough (the eyes, the heavy breathing, the gulp) - and consider that aziraphale is suddenly struck with the 'epiphany' that if crowley is an expert on love... does that include all aspects of it? 👀 possibly. but it's likely more than that:

aziraphale demonstrates in s1 that he (im not including other angels in this empathetic superpower) is able to feel ambient love - and it's indicated similarly that crowley cannot. there have been theories - that i somewhat subscribe to - that aziraphale can't detect crowley's own love "for the same reason people in times square can't see America.", but it's equally plausible that crowley as a demon cannot emit love... either way, it appears to be a revelation on aziraphale's part that crowley might... just might... feel and understand love on a fundamental level

this is also fresh out of ep2 when aziraphale is toying with the idea to hold a ball for nina and maggie, to make them fall in love like They Do In Jane Austen... and yet, now, he's considering whether he could do the same for crowley? now that he 'knows' that crowley feels/understands love, he can unleash all of his own at this ball, and they'll swan off into the sunset because now they can (with complete disregard for everything else going to shit around him, bless this little eldritch horror)

this conversation, as robyn💕 pointed out, is post-"our shop/car" conversation. could it be, from aziraphale's perspective, that crowley has possibly been picking up on aziraphale's hints all along, that aziraphale wants to share his life with crowley - and the vice versa - and that if he confesses properly to crowley, crowley might just accept it? and want the same?

this is only reinforced by this Look being sandwiched between crowley being hesitant about giving aziraphale the keys, and then immediately afterwards chucking them at him like its nothing... crowley must trust aziraphale, must accept and reciprocate at least some part of what aziraphale is trying to tell him; his efforts aren't for nothing. these two have never communicated anything like this verbally - for many different reasons - and why stop now, when aziraphale's actions seem to be doing the trick?

it would further, theoretically, explain why aziraphale is not only in such a good mood going up to edinburgh (sure, he's off to go play miss marple too - the dream) - he's literally going to go solve this whole mystery like a cool detective, come back, send gabriel off on his merry way, confess properly to crowley like he deserves, and then they can get started on the rest of their lives together

it also gives some justification as to why aziraphale feels it appropriate to change the colour of the bentley; we know it's a manifestation of his love for crowley, but this gives it even more depth. he's so excited! he gets to come back and hold a ball - they'll do some formal dancing, crowley will realise that he's completely misunderstood aziraphale, and that aziraphale is actually deeply in love with him! works every time apparently!

look, The Face could be something of nothing - but its nonetheless really interesting when you consider that aziraphale's sudden enthusiasm for the ball might have been encouraged by this line in particular; that crowley's bluff might have just been the undeniable green light, as it were, that aziraphale was waiting for.

[solovivoparati]

Put in a very very very simple way, the entire theme of GO S2 is miscommunication. Lets see:

Gabriel arrives, amnesic, and says that something horrible was going to happen to him-prompting to imagine catastrophic scenarios-, which makes Aziraphale panic and then Crowley panics too, finding out in the end that hey, it’s not actually that bad, he was just being demoted.

Maggie and Nina have trouble communicating from the start, when Maggie shoots her shot without ever having talked to Nina before (properly at least). Nina then has trouble with her partner (which is another miscommunication thing mixed with manipulation and toxicity), they both assume things of each other, Nina's relationship ends, etc etc. All is resolved in the end because they talk, actually listen to what the other has to say and what each of them feels.

Gabriel and Beelzebub are shown to develop their relationship when they sit down to actually speak to each other properly and find out that hey, maybe you're not so bad, maybe not at all.

Even in one of the minisodes, when Aziraphale is so against the whole digging out dead bodies thing, his perspective shifts just by listening to what the Dr. had to say and realizes that he has a very valid point and that things are not black and white if you just listen.

The divorceTM is just a result of, quite literally, six thousand years of miscommunication that was never going to be resolved in a rushed confession of 5 minutes when Crowley and Aziraphale weren’t even focusing on the same topic, each too wrapped in their own subjects to stop and talk things through beyond resentment, excitement or even anger.

TLDR; communication is key. Literally everyone is able to fix their problems when they stop and listen to the other part, and Crowley and Aziraphale fail to do this multiple times. It was bound to happen.

[aziraphales-library]

hello lovely people!

i was wondering if there were any historical fics that specifically look at queer history? it could be just aziraphale or just crowley, them together or not together. it could be as far back as sappho and as recent as legalisation of gay marriage.

thank you!

Hi! We have #queer history, #pride parade, and #queer guardian angel aziraphale tags on which you will find fics of interest. Here are more to add to the queer history collection...

An Angel and a Demon Walk Into a Bar- and there is No Punchline Because this is the 80s and Everyone is Sad, Gay and Repressed by DontOffendTheBees (M)

“So you’re not here to dance.” Crowley ducks his head, his long and impressively voluminous hair tumbling about his face as he nudges his aviators down his nose, peering at Aziraphale with those cunning yellow eyes over the top of them. He smirks like the wily old serpent he is, savouring the next words he speaks. “Now, what else could possibly lure a confirmed bachelor such as yourself to an establishment like this?” In which Aziraphale gravitates to the comfort of a queer space, and winds up in need of further comforting.

and at least in this lifetime (we're sticking together) by vivelegalite (T)

[GOD, NARRATING] People tend to be torn as to which side could be credited with legalisation of gay marriage across all of the United States of America. Most people consider it an act of Good, which it is of course, and attribute it to Heaven. Some, a much less pleasant lot, argue it to be the work of Hell. They tend to back their claims up with improperly translated lines from a book the Almighty had never actually written or even really bothered to read through — I tend to outsource that kind of work — and speak of God’s will and whatnot. Both groups are, however, mistaken. The legalisation of gay marriage across all of the United States of America was brought about not by Heaven, not by Hell, but by a tragically smitten demon with a rather high alcohol concentration and a plan.

Eziraphael's Gifts: A History of Queer Faith and Longing, by Natasha Marie Johnson (Beacon Press, 2019). by actualbat (G)

"If Eziraphael has come to be known--in today's language--as the 'guardian angel of sad queers,' then it makes sense for him to have shown up more regularly in the past once that became a recognizable historical category." Natasha is really glad that she's given this talk enough times to be able to do it on autopilot, because those two funny-looking men in the back just made the most absurdly astonished faces. (Or: Not all historians ignore gay subtext, and not all immortal celestial beings have their shit together. Also, voodoo.)

it's the light (it's the obstacle that casts it) by bibliocratic (T)

It's like having a curtain pulled back on something he wasn't expecting to see. A surprise punch-and-judy at an up-scale restaurant, a lobster thermidor when he's ordered an ale. Crowley's gleefully trying to wrap his head around the fact that Aziraphale is speaking Polari. Because of course he is. Or: The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.

Under the Blazing Sun, Thy Footsteps Track by Elfgrandfather (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley keep finding themselves mixed up with a rather queer lot, and eventually have to contend with what it might mean, both about their own identities and their relationship to each other.

Surpassing All the Stars by KannaOphelia (M)

There was a faint tracing of scales along the woman's cheekbones, tracing down her thin arms and lean thighs. The nipples on her pale, almost flat breasts were dark as night. Fiery red curls fell over dagger-sharp shoulders sprayed gently with more black scales, and the golden eyes were wide and snake-like. The woman was beautiful, but hardly human. "Crawly," the woman said with disgust. "Was that the best you could do, angel?" "I said I didn't have much imagination." Aziraphale's lips were heavy, and she was almost sure she wasn't forming the words properly. There was some kind of spell over her, holding her almost immobile. The venom must have been paralytic. If she had been human, she supposed she would have been dead. Her corporation didn't like it much either. "What name would you prefer I use for you?" The stranger tipped her head on one side, considering. "Crowley?" Aziraphale almost laughed. The whole situation was simply too irritating. If she was to die now, at the hands of some local deity, the paperwork hardly bore thinking about. And her precious work on Sappho's poetry, gone. "Crowley, then. You're a nymph of some kind, I take it?"

- Mod D

[e-rated-beardo]

I had ✨A Thought✨ (about forgiveness)

I can't be the first one to connect these clips like this, but here goes...

Crowley doesn't like that he's a demon. He makes the best of it; our boy (gender neutral) is nothing if not able to adapt. But he resents having to be Evil(tm) by definition, seems to only just accept his snake side (under sufferance), has taken a more human name, distances himself from Hell any chance he gets, etc. And we all remember how he reacted to "you're the bad guys".

At the bandstand, he calls himself unforgivable. Aziraphale has just said "may you be forgiven" and snek's like "lol no did you forget i'm your eViL hEreDiTarY eNeMy" (poking in his own wounds again like he does it for a living); he puts himself down with references to his demonic nature as a sort of challenge to the angel and he's expecting to be rejected for what he is because he hates that part of himself. (And Aziraphale certainly has a habit of bringing that shit up, too; it's a self-defence mechanism, for sure, and Crowley isn't stupid, but I bet it still stings.)

But we know Aziraphale doesn't actually think Crowley is bad. (Right? Nobody believes he thinks that. RIGHT?? Please tell me no-one actually believes he thinks that)

He knew already by Job that Crowley is more "properly good" than most angels. He also knows Crowley has nothing but disdain for Heaven (if he hadn't picked that up by now he'd be very stupid, and it's underlined so many times in the show and the book that Aziraphale is not stupid). So what if when he says,

he's actually saying "you're not unforgivable, it doesn't matter what you are, you're better than all of them"?

He knows by this point that he has to leave, and Metatrash is most likely watching through the window so Aziraphale knows he can't say much or they'll be in trouble. Maybe this is all he could think of to communicate that Crowley is the best being he knows in all of Creation and that had he any choice, he'd pick him every time?

[suncameos]

I need to talk about how present Jane Austen was in this season and how one of the central themes of her books is the harm brought by not being able to communicate ones feelings properly and what made Aziraphale and Crowley part ways was the fact that at the end they DID NOT COMMUNICATE AND THAT LAST “NOTHING LASTS FOREVER” MEANT TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS FOR THEM I’M -

[nightmanatee]

crowley and aziraphale 🤝 thirteen and yaz

not being able to properly communicate, not telling things to each other, right person wrong time, mother issues (13 and azira), doing so much for the other one (crowley and yaz), pining, pining, PINING, "we could've been us" "if it was going to be anyone it'd be you"

[da-looney-bin]

Ok something I'm genuinely curious about. No hate or judgement in what I'm about to say, I'm just genuinely not understanding or seeing it.

Where in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship appear codependency?

A bit TMI, but I've been in a horrifyingly toxic co-dependent relationship and I honestly don't see it (I'm not saying I'm an expert on the subject, I am speaking purely from experience and educating myself throughout the years for my own well being) All I see is two idiots who care about each other a lot but just not being able to communicate their feelings properly due to their circumstances lmao. If anything I see the complete opposite of a codependency.

Maybe I'm missing something but truly I would like someone to explain it to me, please and thank you 😺

[staraun]

I like the detail that Crowley trying to get Maggie and Nina to fall in love mirrors his and Azi's relationship.

"Get human wet and staring into each other's eyes and vavoom" & "One fabulous kiss and we'll be all good" sure the 'vavoom' worked fine, but a kiss wasn't the solution for Maggie and Nina and it was never going to be the solution for Azi and Crowley.

They tried to explain this to Crowley, and it kinda registered but between him not being the best at communication to begin with and the shocking news Azi had, he was too flustered to properly say what he wanted. And Azi was too distracted by the fact Crowley didn't want to go to Heaven with him to decipher what he was really saying.

And as his plan started to fail he resorted back to his instincts on romance. They just needed one fabulous kiss and all would be made right. But of course, it didn't work because that's not the secret to romance even as much as he wants it to be.

What needs to happen in season 3 is for Crowley to just be able to talk uninterrupted, without Azi being distracted by Heaven. They just need to sit down and have a straightforward conversation about their feelings. Aziraphale needs to do whatever he needs to do to bring people back from the dead and try to fix Heaven before they can properly talk. They just need to wait for the time to be right, much like Maggie and Nina.

[luwathegreat]

Nina and Maggie; Go Easy on Them PLEASE- FOR ME!!

It's always a bit bittersweet for me when I see people really go in on Nina and Maggies relationship, (as in the connection between two people, not as in a romanic pairing) complaining about their lack of chemistry and how they're bored of them and all that (Those opinions are valid of course if that is how you feel). I've screamed "Yes! That's the point!" in my bathroom, going absolutely feral on a day where the reigns Good Omens has on me was tighter than usual. Nina and Maggie aren't MEANT to have Chemistry (at least how I see it). They're not meant to be a couple, at least not right now! They've barely interacted all too much! To me, they're there to show a lesson to Aziraphale and Crowley: COMMUNICATION IS ALWAYS KEY! ALWAYS. Aziraphale and Crowley have known each other for THOUSANDS of years. Most of their interactions are not necessarily romantic, but their chemistry is suffocating. A good chunk of their lives had been spent on opposite sides, clashing against eachother, even though there's a 6000 year friendship simmering and ready to explode. But even after Eden, after the Globe Theatre, after Edinburgh, after Armegedidnt, they still don't TALK. They don't COMMUNICATE, just as Nina and Maggie said!!

Nina and Maggie barely knew eachother. Most of their interactions we see have been micromanaged and swayed by Aziraphale and Crowley, or just centered around the potential of them being a pair. Maggie bringing Nina the LP, The fucking "trapped together" trope happening when they're locked inside the coffee shop, The raining + canopy, the dancing, fighting demons together. But you can't even find their chemistry with a magnifying glass. It's not MEANT to be there! Again, the BARELY know eachother! But despite all that, they still found some time to talk between themeselves and PROPERLY communicate with eachother. They were able to iron out the wrinkles and now they have a wonderful foundation to build a friendship, and maybe something more! They're not meant to parallel Aziraphale and Crowley in the sense of "Oh, this is Aziracrow but lesbians!" no no no! That's not it my dear. They're meant to almost mirror them and show "even Nina and Maggie were able to come to an understanding after simply TALKING ONCE! Aziracrow could finally SEE and HEAR eachother if they actually sat down and properly spoke instead of wittering on all day about wines and such" (They almost did really! They were so close! They were right there!But then but then but THEN- *sobs* the final fifteen minutes...)

Anyways, THATS the lesson Nina and Maggie are meant to teach us (I believe)! They pretty much tell us this themselves but people seem to really not like them at all for lacking what they're not mean to have. Which is their exact purpose. Which I find funny! It feels like hating a car for having wheels instead of horse legs. Anyways! That's my two cents! I hope this didn't feel mean or whiney- BYE BYEEE MMMWAAH!

[greatdistractions]

btw here's my theory about the end of good omens season 2

so in the tags of another post I said "#aziraphale will kick your ass. he'll feel anxious before and guilty after. but he'll do it"

I think he's planning to spy on heaven and find out what the plans are for the next apocalypse so that he and crowley can stop them.

my hope is that he knew metatron was listening to their conversation so he was TRYING to get crowley to come spy with him, but wasn't able to properly communicate his plan. that's why he asked crowley to come with him and the "I forgive you" was a panicked scrambling for a way to justify it to metatron

if he didn't have it planned by that point, I definitely think that being a mole was what he decided when metatron mentioned "the second coming". aziraphale's expression changes and he seems to gain determination

(also I have a side theory that metatron is going rogue with this whole thing, and that's why he isn't a giant floating head anymore. god demoted him for planning another apocalypse but didn't tell anyone cause god now has no mouth piece. and god's bad at communicating, that's her whole thing)

anyway, yeah, I think after two seasons of people telling aziraphale that he should make his own plans, he's doing it. I like the coffee theory too, but I kind of hope aziraphale's being a crafty little bastard (affectionate)

[just-an-angel-and-his-demon]

“Aziraphale I really don’t understand why you do this. You can just miracle these pastries into existence. Why do you insist on baking them?” Crowley said. Aziraphale could only smile.

“Because it is more fun this way,” Aziraphale said, pulling ingredients from their cupboard. He set them out on the counter and thought for a moment before turning back and grabbing more. He continued this process until every single thing that was sitting in their cupboard was now on their counter. Crowley sighed.

“Aziraphale, this is such a mess. Just miracle it up. It’s easier.” Aziraphale shook his head.

“It’s easier but less fun.” He said. “Now, Crowley, get out some bowls.” Crowley shook his head.

“I am not getting out any bloody bowls.” He snapped his fingers and miracled a cake. “Look how easy that was, Aziraphale.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the cake caught fire.

“Oops,” Aziraphale said. He put the fire out and tossed the cake in the trash. “My bad.” Crowley sighed.

“Fine. Teach me how to bake.” Aziraphale clapped his hands and found the biggest bowl they owned.

“What do you want?” Aziraphale asked. “I can do cakes, macarons, cookies, breads-”

“Whatever you want to do, Aziraphale. I’m not going to eat them.” Aziraphale sighed.

“Crowley,” He pouted. “Stop sucking the fun out of it.”

“You sucked the fun out of it when you decided that you wanted to make a cake instead of ordering one or miracling it.” Aziraphale shook his head.

“Please Crowley. Do this just once time for me. If you don’t like it I’ll never make you do it again.” Crowley sighed. He couldn’t be mad at the angel when he spoke like that.

“Alright, fine,” Crowley said. “Teach me how to make cookies.” Aziraphale smiled, seeing as his little manipulation (it wasn’t a full temptation, he knew that would never work on Crowley) had worked.

“What kind?” Aziraphale asked.

“What kind does it-” Crowley caught himself being negative towards the activity and stopped himself. “Chocolate chip,” he said. He knew that Aziraphale was quite fond of that kind of cookie and just wanted to please him at that point. Aziraphale thought for a moment.

“It seems we don’t have enough chocolate chips for that,” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley puppy dog eyes, hoping he would do the miracle himself rather than making Aziraphale do it. Crowley complied. Of course he would. This was, after all, for his angel. He didn’t want anything to do with the activity. Aziraphale smiled. “Alright, so the first thing you are going to want to do is set the stove. So that it warms up while we’re baking instead of us having to wait on it later.”

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Aziraphale led Crowley through the process of making cookies, forcing him to have an active role in the baking. Aziraphale loved watching Crowley struggle. There were a couple of times that Aziraphale had to perform a few miracles so that Crowley wouldn’t feel bad or anything because he made a stupid mistake (mistaking salt for sugar who does that? Crowley apparently). By the time the first batch of cookies was in the oven, it seemed that Crowley’s mask of hating the activity had melted.

He, in fact, asked Aziraphale to teach him other things to bake. The angel loved baking. It was a little known fact about him. No one really knew just how much he liked baking. Not even Crowley did. Knowing that Crowley was enjoying the activity too was warming his soul. Besides, with all the extra baked goods, it would give them an excuse to visit Anathema and Newton. They were always happy to take in all of Aziraphale’s extra pastries.

They spent much of the afternoon bent over various recipes for various pastries. Some were easy and required no miracles whatsoever to create. Especially now that Crowley was learning his way around the ingredients. Some required so many miracles to do that both Crowley and Aziraphale began to wonder how humans ever accomplished them without the help of miracles. Every other step in the process required some sort of miracle just to make sure the treats turned out properly. It was a miracle in and of itself that Crowley didn’t give up on those ones right then and there.

As soon as one thing was out of the oven, the next thing went in. Or, if the recipe called for it, the temperature was reset. They used a miracle or two to make the process a bit faster between temperature switches simply because Crowley was not a patient demon. Though, most demons didn’t have virtues, so it made sense.

Before they knew it, every surface that could have been covered with pastries was covered with pastries. Everything from cookies to cakes to breads and other desserts. By the time they’d put the last batch of cookies in and miracled everything to be cleaned up, it was nearly five in the morning. As they were supernatural beings, they didn’t need sleep, so this didn’t bother them so much.

What bothered them was the fact that they had more stuff to give away than they had friends to give them away to. And in today’s day and age, you couldn’t just go up to anyone on the street and start passing out baked goods. That just wasn’t done. People would be afraid of drugs or something. But Aziraphale couldn’t very well let it all go to waste. He didn’t know what to do with it though. He very well couldn’t eat it all. Even the extras once their friends would have picked over it.

“What if we hosted a party?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley shook his head.

“What kind of party would we be able to host that would get rid of all this?” Aziraphale shrugged.

“A party?” Crowley sighed.

“Besides, who would we invite that we wouldn’t just give this stuff to anyway?” Aziraphale sighed.

“You’re right,” He said. “But we very well can’t keep all of this.” Aziraphale smiled. “Oh! How about your demon friends? Would they like any of this?”

“You did not just say that.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked, genuinely unaware of what he might have done wrong.

“What am I going to do? Call up ole Beelzebub and be like ‘yo Lord. Me and Aziraphale have spent the day baking and were wondering if you’d like some. Sorry for not dying in my holy water bath by the way.’ Seriously. Do you think that lot would take anything from us after that whole thing?” Aziraphale sighed.

“No I suppose not.” He thought for a moment. “How about a bake sale. We could send the money off to some charity or-”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Crowley said. “Or maybe we don’t even give the money to charity. You could always use more books,” Crowley said.

“Well I-”

“And you’re always speaking of that leaky roof that you refuse to miracle away. With bake sale money you could hire a human to fix that for you.”

“I suppose that keeping some of the money to ourselves wouldn’t hurt . . . “

“It’s settled then!” Crowley said. “Bake sale it is. Let’s get this all packaged up and get ready for the show tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Why there’s too much to do before tomorrow!” Crowley shook his head.

“Nonsense,” he replied. Everyone in London already knows about it and we already have all of the legal documents to prove that it is quite alright.” Crowley held up a pile of documents that did, in fact, clear their names to sell their baked goods. “All we have to do is get everything packaged up and ready for tomorrow.”

“What about-”

“Anathema, Newton, Madame Tracy, and Shadwell?” Crowley asked. “Well they’re going to come here and take their pick before we open our doors bright and early tomorrow morning. What do you say angel?” Aziraphale smiled. It seemed that Crowley had already gotten everything taken care of.

***

That afternoon, none of their human friends could believe all of the desserts and breads they had to pick from. Anathema had expected only a little bit of a surplus. She hadn’t been expecting every surface to be covered.

“What is all of this?” Anathema couldn’t help but ask in her shock.

“I made Crowley learn how to bake and turns out he loves it more than I do,” Aziraphale beamed. “So you’re taking whatever you want and we are selling the rest of it.”

“How did you even have-”

“Miracles.” Crowley said. “Lots and lots of miracles.” Newton shook his head.

“You two really are gay, aren’t you?” Aziraphale was the one to reply.

“In human terms, I suppose you could say that,” Aziraphale said. “Though techincally speaking neither one of us have a gender, and you are basing that statement off of stereotypes that the gay community doesn’t particularly like because it can be harmful.” Aziraphale shrugged. “But yes. We baked. We baked a lot. And it is probably going to become a normal thing with how much Crowley enjoyed it.” Crowley nodded.

“This is crazy you guys,” Anathema said. “There is no way you are going to get rid of all of this with one sale.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“Maybe not,” Aziraphale replied. “But at least it will get our numbers down significantly. Hopefully we’ll get enough money to fix that pesky leak.”

“Don’t you guys have magic or something,” Newton asked. “Why can’t you just magic the leak fixed?” Crowley shook his head.

“You tell me,” Crowley replied. “I’ve tried using logic to talk to him about it but he won’t have any of it.” Anathema and Newton finished picking through the desserts, of course stooping to try all of them that they could, but taking with them at least one package of each baked good that they’d made. Once that was all said and done, Aziraphale made cocoa to share, though Anathema and Newton insisted that they’d already gotten cavities by just looking at the pile of sweets that Aziraphale and Crowley had left.

Shadwell had tried to insist that they’d stolen the goods and were now trying to drug them, but Madame Tracy shut him down and took even more than Anathema and Newton did, all the while Shadwell was muttering about “that southern pansey” and how he could exorcize him off the face of the Earth if he wanted to, just by pointing at him. He had, after all, managed to do it before. He didn’t trust the business that the lot of them had running, but he decided against shooing Mr. Fell of the face of the Earth. Not out of the kindness of his heart but because he knew that Mr. Crowley would never be able to get rid of all of this stuff on his own.

***

Aziraphale set out a little table in front of his bookshop. Well, he set out multiple little tables. He’d been grateful that Anathema and Newton had offered to help them with the sales so that he himself could be more focused on book sales (or rather making sure no one was too tempted by any of them) and Crowley didn’t have to be in charge of everything. Aziraphale loved Crowley to bits, but he couldn’t even be trusted to make sure the Antichrist was in the right place. So why wouldn’t he mess this little thing up too? Getting the Antichrist in place was even less complicated than having to deal with sales and everything.

Most people, as Aziraphale had hoped, had stayed out of the bookshop. Aziraphale never had really enjoyed it when people came into his collection. He only called it a bookshop to keep up appearances. He really didn’t like selling the books. He liked dealing with the people who would fight him for the books even less. The nerve some humans had was remarkable.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale would go outside to check on things and make sure everyone was stocked up on all of their treats. They’d been able to get quite a lot on those tables, but not nearly everything. He would take the money in and switch it out as needed (switching the smallest bills and change for bigger bills if they needed that, taking the bigger bills out so they didn’t get robbed).

The overall feel for the day seemed to be that the people loved their pastries. Of course, neither Aziraphale or Crowley had been surprised by this because of the fact that they’d used so much magic to make it happen. Magic tended to do things to food to make it better, even when that wasn’t asked of it. However, when they were asked about any secret ingredients, Crowley insisted that they had just used more butter or vanilla or sugar (depending on what it was) in the recipe to make it good. A number of people informed Crowley that he should open up a bakery because he would be phenomenal at it.

Crowley knew this to be true. He could be good at anything he wanted to be, he was a demon after all. A demon who was, in human terms, dating an angel. The two of them together meant that they would be unstoppable in anything that they decided to do together. However, he knew that in order for him to open up a bakery with the angel, he would have to ask Aziraphale to close the shop. Even the best humans wouldn’t be able to handle running two businesses at once. The angel might have been able to handle it, especially with how few sales the bookshop ended up getting, but he knew that they had to keep up appearances. Especially with how well known the names of Crowley and Fell were in the area.

He could, of course, always go at it alone. But he didn’t want to do that either. The main reason he even liked baking to begin with was because he loved doing it with Aziraphale. If he were to open up his own place without Aziraphale, he would get stuck with all of the work of owning a business without any of the fun as to why he would have opened it in the first place.

As a compromise to the community, the A. Z. Fell and Co. bookshop hosted a city wide bake sale once per month, weather permitting. This gave Crowley all of what he would have wanted in a bakery with none of the stress.

Besides, he quite liked not having a full time job.

[aziraphales-library]

hi hi! love your blog-would you happen to know of any fics that are written in the form of/include love letters between crowley and aziraphale?

Hello! Oh yes, I love a good epistolary fic! Here are some for you...

your angel, aziraphale by angelheartbeat (G)

Being an angel of human leanings, Aziraphale has always been a fan of writing letters. Crowley discovers this on a sunny afternoon in the bookshop, when a stack of letters soaked in love is left for roaming demon eyes to spot.

Devotion Unspoken by quietdetective (T)

It was a sunny day when Aziraphale decided it was time to finally do a tidy up of his shop, though not so much as to attract customers. He flipped the sign to closed and got to work, going to the depths of his shop and moving aside boxes of books he had yet to unpack. Looking through some of the old boxes that were filled to the brim, Aziraphale found quite an odd box that was hidden away.

Indelible by Z A Dusk (T)

An intimate look at Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship through the millennia, told in letters to one another. Communicating through writing is a good way to stay under Heaven and Hell's radars - and sometimes to say the things they’re not ready to say face to face. Will they ever be able to act on the love that is so clearly written across their hearts?

Aziraphale's Emails by Sintina (M)

"It seems I’ve accessed the information superhighway, at last.  I do hope you’re proud of me. I have a confession.  Well, I have several confessions, in fact. I have attempted to do this properly, face to face, and I find myself incapable."

Crowley isn't going to survive this.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Gefionne (M)

Because they can’t see each other more than once every few decades, Aziraphale suggests that he and Crowley write to each other to pass the time apart. As quills for their letters, they exchange wing feathers: a gesture of great intimacy that Crowley is convinced only he perceives the depth of. But time will tell that it’s not just him who sees it that way.

To reveal my heart in ink by chaoticlivi (E)

Aziraphale misses writing letters and starts a modern-day correspondence with Crowley by mail. Somehow, it's easier to describe their feelings in the written word, and secrets begin to spill a little more quickly than either Aziraphale or Crowley had expected.

- Mod D

[elphenfan]

Nesting (Good Omens) 9/9

Chapter One I Chapter Two I Chapter Three I Chapter Four I Chapter Five I Chapter Six I Chapter Seven I Chapter Eight I Chapter Nine

Here you go, last chapter for people. And yes, I forgot again. Hectic life. Sorry

-------------------------------------------------------

It was an incredibly legitimate question to ask, considering, and it wasn’t as though it was posed in a way that could be called accusatory at all. In fact, it sounded as though it was a genuine question.

Even so, it hit Crowley like a bucket of ice water to the face, assisted by the realisation that opened and cascaded, or possibly more accurately snowballed, inside of his mind.

The realisation that he had managed to miss and misinterpret a vast amount, if not all, of the things that Aziraphale had done since Crowley had first discovered that he’d started to…well, to nest, really, there was no need to call it anything else now.

All of those changes had been for Crowley’s sake, not anybody else’s and certainly not for what had turned out to be an entirely fictional rival. The one he’d been angry with for…for so many reasons, that had been nobody but himself.

He was the one who hadn’t accepted the nest, had in fact run from it, even if he had physically walked, and not just the once, either. Because he couldn’t face the rejection, yes, the knowledge that his angel was in love with someone but how could Aziraphale be expected to know that? To him, it must’ve felt like he had put himself out there and Crowley had…he’d basically rejected Aziraphale, hadn’t he?

Why on earth hadn’t the angel reacted to that? No wonder he’d looked downcast and dejected but he should’ve been screaming – or had given up. That would’ve been the logical thing to do.

But he hadn’t given up, had he? Unlike the demon, who hadn’t even had the courage to keep his attempts at nesting up for Aziraphale to see, the angel had not just kept it up, he had made alterations to it in an effort to make it more to the perceived taste of his intended.

Alterations which, Crowley further realised with a sinking heart, hadn’t been to appeal to an angel used to heavenly aesthetics but to mimic the style he had at his flat. The lack of clutter, the general streamlining of the interior, the gold ornamentation, the look and feel of the sofa and pillows. For crying out loud, there were marble surfaces and pot plants! How the fuck had he managed to miss that significance?

Furthermore, those alterations had come about after Aziraphale had been to his flat and…oh, bugger, the poor angel must’ve thought that he needed to change it to appeal to the demon. That he had to change something so essential about himself as what his bookshop looked like in order to make his nest a worthy prospect to present to Crowley.

No wonder, then, that he’d made comment about trying to get it right but that he thought he might’ve gone off in the wrong direction.

Crowley’s heart sank further, twisting as it did so. All of that, that effort and dedication and persistent hope and he had failed to pick up on any of it. Nor had he properly realised until now, when it was brought up directly and not when he should’ve done, when Aziraphale had confessed that the nest was for him, that he’d been harbouring wrong assumptions and what those assumptions had wrought on his beloved.

He had, in fact, completely failed his angel and his earnest attempt, all because he was scared, terrified, of losing his angel.

Satan, he was an idiot, wasn’t he? A cosmos-class one, to boot.

His hands found their way back to the blond’s back and he grabbed onto the jacket, fingers digging into the fabric as he tried to pull Aziraphale closer. Meanwhile, he buried his face in the other’s front, both to reassure himself that he was actually there and to keep from seeing the angel’s expression.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, confused and concerned about the reaction to a question. “I…was that the wrong question to ask?”

Crowley shook his head, against the waistcoat as he tried to pull the other closer still, feeling tears, of anger with himself as well as hurt and guilt, prickle. He didn’t want to, certain he’d make things worse, but he knew he needed to say something, to apologise.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his words muffled against the fabric. Wait, that wouldn’t do. If he was going to apologise, it wasn’t going to be unclear. They’d had enough misunderstandings as it was, hadn’t they?

Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his head back up to look Aziraphale in the eye. He didn’t let go of his hold, though, nor did he move his wings back. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” he said. “I should’ve realised that you wouldn’t be interested in someone up there…but it seemed the only possible explanation for why you were nesting all of a sudden.”

No, that was making excuses, wasn’t it?

His gaze flickered down, his nerves faltering. “I couldn’t believe it because it didn’t make sense that you’d choose me, but…” He had to fight to keep his breathing under control, “…but I still should’ve seen the truth, though, sooner or later, and I didn’t, not at any point. You made it bloody obvious, didn’t you? And all I could see was further evidence that someone else had managed what I have always wished for. I couldn’t even spot that I was in the wrong and apologise for it when you said that it was for…for me, I just ploughed on like a complete moron!”

“Oh, Crowley…” the angel sighed after a moment or two of horrible silence.

The demon squeezed his eyes shut, the threat of tears clearer. “Yes, I know! I know! I’m so sorry. I’m a colossal idiot that doesn’t deserve – “

“That was not what I meant,” Aziraphale interrupted, his voice gentle even as it was also slightly sharp, at least in part in order to cut through. “Look at me. Please.”

Crowley opened his eyes as he was bid but not immediately.

“I did not say you were, or are, an idiot or moron or whatever else you’ve called yourself, nor do I believe that you are.”

“I clearly am!” How the Heaven could Aziraphale say that he wasn’t? “I know you’re being kind but there’s no need to when I can finally see it myself!”

“Crowley…my dearest, I don’t consider you stupid – “

“I hurt you!” The words, while he hadn’t quite intended for them to come out, he didn’t regret. They were true and he needed to communicate to Aziraphale that he was aware of his blunder. “I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t matter. You’ve been – you’ve been miserable for weeks and it’s all my fault. Because I was too fucking dumb to see what was right there, even when – “

“Anthony J. Crowley, stop!”

There was that steel again, wielded like…like the demon imagined he would’ve wielded his flaming sword back before he’d given it away.

His jaw clacked shut, hard enough that his teeth and jawbone ached.

“That does matter!” the angel retorted. “In fact, that is what matters. I cannot deny that I was very much hurt that you didn’t seem to like what you saw and have not been able to stem that afterwards, or that I’ve been struggling to understand what I’d done wrong since you turned away from my first attempt.”

Crowley’s heart, still in the region of his intestines, twisted horribly. “There, you see – “

“However, that does not equal that I blame you nor that I think you stupid for missing things. You were not to know that it wasn’t an attraction that just suddenly manifested and, well…” He smiled but it was somehow a little off. “It’s not as though I’ve given you much reason to think otherwise, is it?”

“That doesn’t excuse it.”

“To me, it does, my dearest, as it explains it quite sufficiently and I do not blame you. I never would.”

“But – “

“Do you blame me?”

The demon’s nose wrinkled as he made a face of incomprehension. “Blame you? What on earth would I blame you for?”

“For taking so long to see what was inside of me and not mistake it for anything else, never mind gather up the courage to nest for you.”

“No, of course not! I said earlier, didn’t I?”

“Then why can’t you extend that same forgiveness to yourself?”

Crowley opened his mouth, to give a clever answer or perhaps merely a retort. Either would do really, but nothing would come out of his mouth.

Aziraphale smiled again, a more genuine one, as he brought his hands up to cup the demon’s face. For a moment, he just stared at Crowley without saying anything and the ginger looked back at him in turn, confused and nervous but somehow managing to hold the gaze.

Then, after his smile had widened and yet softened, the angel leaned forward. Crowley would have thought he meant to kiss him, and it did seem that way. Except that he stopped far too far away to make contact.

“I forgive you,” he said softly, his voice warm and loving. “I do not believe it’s needed but I forgive you.”

“Angel…”

“My dearest Crowley, you are my beloved and now, at long last, you are my nestmate, too. I will not blame you for making mistakes or wrong but plausible assumptions. Do you understand me?”

“I…yeah. I do.”

“Good.”

And with that, he closed the remaining distance between them.

Even though this was only their third kiss – second if you counted the first two as one with a slight pause in between – it felt as natural to slide into it as if this was their thousandth kiss instead.

It started off as just a press of lips against lips and that was perfect lovely. They could take it slow or even keep it at that, if that was what Aziraphale wanted. There was no actual need to take it further. The intimacy was quite strong as it was.

Within the span of only a few minutes, though, the angel pressed his tongue against the seam of Crowley’s lips. More asking than outright demanding entrance, the demon willingly opened his mouth for the questing tongue, curious to see where and how far the angel would take it and thrilled that he would dare do it at all, considering.

The tongue moved forward slowly, though it seemed as much to be due to a want for slow exploration as hesitation about what he was doing, which made it somehow even better.

Once it reached Crowley’s own tongue, he no longer sat idly by, though. Instead, he came to meet it, pressing against it and twirling around it. Taking it slow so he could explore thoroughly in turn and just get to enjoy this very first moment between them.

At some point while they kissed, one of Aziraphale’s hands slid from its place cupping the side of Crowley’s face, further along until it reached the back of his head, where his fingers slid into the short, soft, thick strands of ginger hair.

There, they didn’t exactly tug but they did still somehow wind themselves into whatever locks they could find, which sent signals down into Crowley’s brain, signals which were very pleasant and just a little distracting.

He didn’t stop the kiss, though. It would take a lot more than that to get him to stop at this point, and even then, he wasn’t sure he would be willing.

Aziraphale wasn’t the greatest of kissers, technically speaking, but he was both trying earnestly and, to his credit, learning quite fast. In any case, it didn’t matter; he could’ve been the sloppiest, worst kisser in the world and Crowley wouldn’t give a flying fuck.

What mattered was that it was his angel. Everything else could take a flying jump.

His own hands slid, too. One went up to grab at the junction where neck became shoulder, somehow managing to slide its way under not just the jacket but both the waistcoat and the shirt as well. The other slipped down to cup the curve of a plush arse cheek. Not with any ulterior motive…well, except for the fact that he’d always wondered what it would feel like. To be honest, he’d wondered at the exact shape, too, the angel always managing to somehow cover or otherwise obscure the shape of his butt, either through relatively loose-fitting clothing or a covering jacket or both.

The best chance he’d gotten was when he’d sauntered into the Globe and had seen just what the angel had been wearing. If he’d been a bit slower going around him from behind just to get a better look at it, what of it?

Not that he was focused exclusively on Aziraphale’s arse. Of course not. That would hardly be fair, for one thing. Actually, he’d wondered what all of him felt and looked like and had formed, he’d thought, a fairly good estimation of it. He’d had quite a long time to work it out, after all.

When his hand made contact, he realised his estimation didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

Furthermore, much to his consternation, Aziraphale broke the kiss to gasp.

“Crowley…!” There was a hint of protest in there but no more.

“Hmm? Am I not allowed to touch?” He didn’t even loosen his grip despite his words.

“Of course, you are, that’s not the point!”

“What is the point, then?”

“That – that you’re deliberately trying to distract and disrupt me!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, angel. Not when you’re kissing me like that.”

The angel bit his lip. “Now you’re mocking me.”

“Teasing you at best and I meant it.”

Aziraphale still didn’t look convinced. “Meant what, precisely?”

“That I would never stop you kissing me.”

“Then we could be stuck kissing for quite a long time.”

Well, now…the implications of that…well. Definitely something to explore at a later point.

“I fail to see the problem,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

The blond giggled a little at that. Then he laid his head down on Crowley’s shoulder, shifting himself even closer while his wings tucked in further to keep them inside the circle of the demon’s.

“You know, you’re going to hurt them if you keep that up,” Crowley pointed out.

With them as close as they were, he felt the urge to reach out and touch the other’s wings again, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Not least because they might be as sensitive as his own and for all the kissing and touching, that wasn’t really the direction this was headed. Perhaps at a later date it would, maybe, but not now.

Aziraphale turned his head slightly to plant a kiss on a prominent cheekbone. Then he lifted his head back up enough to look the other in at least one yellow yes.

“I would…I was rather hoping that you would take one,” he said, voice quiet, eyes hopeful.

Take one? One what? Oh. Oh.

But that…

He turned his head to look more directly at the other, even if they were a bit too close to properly focus. “Angel, are you…but there’s no need to do that.”

There really wasn’t, not from a nesting perspective. Aziraphale had been the one to start nesting, after all, and had placed more than one feather, even though only the one was required, around the nest to signal his intentions – and some other time, the demon needed to go around to take in just what kind of feathers they were. The feathers Crowley had given was a token of reciprocation of the feelings and intentions the nest represented. That he’d gone above and beyond, as it were, was a different matter.

The point was that for Aziraphale to then give one back to Crowley would be…a reciprocation of a reciprocation? Something like that, anyway, and it felt…not wrong, per se, it never could feel outright wrong. But it did feel an unnecessary kindness that would also be painful.

“I know there isn’t,” Aziraphale answered. He didn’t sound hurt, however, nor dejected. In fact, he now had a small smile playing on his lips, which puzzled the demon a little, adding to the pile of confusion, which rather seemed to be the expression of the day.

“Why are you asking me to…to pluck a feather from you, then?”

“Because I want you to.”

“Yeah, I got that. Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason beyond wanting you to?”

“As it’s painful and unnecessary, yes!” He watched an odd emotion flicker across Aziraphale’s face. “No, I didn’t – I just meant that…I don’t need…I do understand. About the nest and everything that…you know. There’s no need for you to be hurt.”

Further, his mind added, quite unhelpfully if truthfully.

Aziraphale, smile coming back, lifted his head up the rest of the way but only so that he could press his forehead against Crowley’s. A part in the back of the demon’s mind wondered at the amount of touch they were both giving now, as though now, when they had permission, they wanted to touch in as many places as they could.

The rest of him knew that that wasn’t exactly it but, in any case, the rest of his mind was otherwise occupied.

Such as with the fact that Aziraphale was willing to pull a feather for him, or have Crowley pull a feather, for no other reason, it seemed, than he wanted to do it. Which didn’t make any sense.

“There is,” the blond said.

“Is what?” Crowley asked, having momentarily lost track.

“Is a need. I want you to pull one, to choose one to take. One that is yours.”

“You’ve already done that.”

Aziraphale shook his head, lightly as their foreheads were still touching.

“No. I have taken ones for the nest. That is not the same. No, my dear,” he added when he saw Crowley’s expression shift, “they were all meant for you. But they were for the nest, for part of…well, how nesting goes.”

“So were the feathers I gave you.”

“Yes, and then again, no.”

“They are!” the ginger protested.

“Yes, they are. But you chose to give me four. Four different feathers, working together to…and they are mine. Mine to keep with me. You wouldn’t do that with the ones I put in the nest, would you?”

Guiltily remembering the thought he’d had about the feather he’d found before Aziraphale had returned, Crowley restrained himself to shaking his head, after pulling back just enough that their foreheads were separated. He wouldn’t really take it, especially not now when he knew who the nest was made for. Feathers for the nest were supposed to stay in the nest.

Granted, many nesting couples placed the reciprocation feathers in the nest, too, but they were not required to as per the norm and ritual of nesting. Just as often, separate feathers would be given to the nesting angel for them and for to be placed in the nest alongside the original ones, signalling their new status.

“No, I didn’t think you would. So…it hardly seems fair that I should be the only one who would have that joy.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue. Then he shut it again as something clicked. Something which almost made his jaw drop again as it sank in.

‘To keep with me’, Aziraphale had said. With him. Implying, together with the pocket it seemed definite he’d just created for them, that he wanted to keep them on him at all times. Well, ‘imply’ with a clue-by-four, really, even for the idiot that the ginger evidently was when it came to these things.

A part of Crowley, and such an intimate part, as well, for angels, fallen or not, that would always be with the angel. Right next to his heart, too, in a specially created pocket that would keep them safe.

In that light, they not only gained even more significance, if that was even possible, it became rather clear, not to mention incredibly heart-warming, why Aziraphale might want to reciprocate.

The thought of having his angel’s feather with him at all times, a tangible reminder of his angel and what they now shared…

He swallowed around a lump he hadn’t been aware had manifested in his throat. It was the good sort, though, if one could put it like that.

“I suppose not,” he managed to get out, his voice somewhere between a croak and a rasp.

“Of course, only if you would – “

“I would,” Crowley interrupted, not giving the uncertainty time to manifest. They’d had quite enough of that as it was. His gaze dropped down to where his feathers had disappeared, where they would live from now until forever, and when he lifted it back up to meet green eyes, Aziraphale’s smile became at once broader and a little bit shy.

“I would love to, angel.”

He slid his hand up the side of the blond’s neck to rest against his cheek, a touch which Aziraphale leaned into immediately.

“Pick one for me,” Crowley said after a moment or two had passed but Aziraphale shook his head.

“You should be the one to pick it, my dear,” he said.

“You didn’t pick the feathers from my wings.”

“No, but now I’m asking you to do it for me. Not because I don’t want to,” he added. “I would but I would rather that you make the choice.”

“Why?” Possibly he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t rock the boat. But then again, that was always his problem, wasn’t it? One of many.

The angel didn’t seem fazed, however. “Because it is your choice.”

The words sank in and then a moment later, so did the implications thereof.

Oh, fuck, Aziraphale.

Eyes wide as he continued to look his angel in the eye, heart full to bursting even though he’d thought it already was and couldn’t get any fuller, Crowley’s hand slipped from the other’s cheek. It slid down to land on a shoulder which it briefly gripped, as though for anchoring. Then it trailed further down the back, slowly, down to where the fabric of the jacket had somehow moved aside to make room for the wing sprouting from it while staying exactly where it was.

All the while, the hand trembled minutely. It was stupid but he couldn’t have helped it if he tried.

When he made tentative contact with the joint of the wing, that tremble only strengthened but he pressed on, spurred on by the look in Aziraphale’s eyes and the small hitch in his breath.

Oh, and the fact that the wing was, when he continued the path very gently, just about touching, pushed more firmly into his touch, of course. That did help just a bit.

Ignoring the thought he’d had earlier about what reactions touching the angel’s wing would cause, in both Crowley and Aziraphale – he had a purpose now, a reason for it, bless it – the demon trailed his hand further along, not just in terms of the width of the appendage but the length of it, too.

Aziraphale wanted him to choose. To pick the one that he would carry with him always.

For a moment, he felt too overwhelmed to choose. No, it was more than that, really. It was the fact that for the claim, the assertion that it was up to him to choose, not that he didn’t believe the sincerity of that, the symbolism of the feathers still remained. It would still speak volumes which feather he picked in turn.

So, he had to get it right.

One might argue that he could pick any, as he’d already shown what he wanted to say through the feathers he’d given the angel. That if it was that important this feather also communicated something, it really ought to be Aziraphale who plucked it, to signal what meaning he wanted Crowley to carry with him rather than leaving it up to the demon to gain his own meaning and importance.

It wasn’t a bad point. In fact, it was a very good one, but it was nevertheless trumped, or at least countered, by the point that Crowley was given the choice to pick the feather he wanted to have on him at all times. Then again -

The hesitation didn’t go unnoticed by Aziraphale, though. Instead of being uncertain or questioning, however, he seemed to understand immediately this time.

“Don’t think about the symbolism,” he said, smiling in understanding. “Not now. Just the one you’d like best.” He stretched the wing, still within the confines of Crowley’s own circle of feathers, just a little for emphasis.

“I can’t…angel, I can’t not think about the symbolism. It’s bloody well wired in. Well, as good as. You might as well not expect me to…to not hiss!”

“You very rarely do.”

“That’s hardly the point. The point is…the point is that any feather I pick, we’ll both inherently know the symbolism of it is and will form assumptions based on it. Doesn’t mean I don’t get what you’re driving at.”

“Driving at?”

“With the choice. That I am free to choose. But I’m not. Not really. I appreciate the thought, though.” He smiled a genuine smile because he honestly did appreciate it.

“Crowley, please. You are. Forget the symbolism.” The demon opened his mouth to argue but the angel ploughed on. “This isn’t about nesting, my dear, it isn’t about instinct or symbolism or tradition. This is just you and I, together, making a choice. From now on, it’s just the two of us.”

“Even against Heaven?” This wasn’t a case of the words being out of his mouth before he could stop them or even meant as remotely pointed or barbed. It was a genuine question that he wanted, no, needed, to know the answer to.

Why it hadn’t occurred to him before now that this was dangerous, what they’d just done, becoming nestmates despite supposedly being hereditary enemies – of sides that had even less grasp of nuance and grey areas than a recently politically-awakened teen and were capable of the same kind of hyperbolic retribution – he had no idea. It ought to have been flashing in enormous neon lights, surrounded by frantically waving flags, that they’d be at risk from now on.

Of course, there was the undeniable fact that they had always been at risk from either side for associating or, as Aziraphale had put it back at their falling out in the middle of Victoria’s reign, fraternising. It was a risk that they’d worked around for millennia and had, he would say, become rather good at.

This was different, though; it went far beyond their normal interaction. That wasn’t to say it’d be immediately detectable by the denizens of Heaven or Hell even if they were to move their arses down or up here, respectively. Not if they were careful.

Even so…if either side did find out…destruction would be a blessing in comparison.

He looked to Aziraphale, who he expected to look rather like he felt himself; uncertain and worried to the point of terror as the implications set in.

Instead, he found an expression of determination and steel, not unlike what he’d seen before but significantly clearer and stronger.

“Yes. Even against Heaven. And Hell, for that matter. I made that decision when I first became aware that I was nesting, and I am not going to renege on it.”

Crowley felt quite a mixture of feelings at that, the worry and fear didn’t go away but pride at his angel flooded in, mixing with the love, and so did a small amount of guilt.

“Then we’ll have to be incredibly careful that they don’t find out,” he said. “Not exactly known for being understanding, are they?”

Something pained and conflicted flitted across the angel’s features. Despite his determination and decisiveness, it was clear that the decision hadn’t come lightly to him, and why would it? It would be going against the side he’d been on for actual aeons. Which would also go a long way to explain why he’d needed time to come to terms with wanting to nest.

The expression was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, however, the steel back in full force.

“They cannot separate us,” he said.

“They can destroy us,” Crowley pointed out. “Doesn’t mean I would ever want to give this up, mind.” He tightened his hold as the blond simultaneously moved closer.

Aziraphale’s smile could power the entire city. “No. Neither do I. Not for anything.”

“Till the end, then?” he asked, the addition ‘however long that might or might not be’ remaining unspoken but nevertheless distinctly heard.

The angel nodded, moving his wings tighter around them still, which the demon reciprocated instantly. “And beyond, my dear. No matter what happens.”

“The two of us.”

That thought alone, that they were now nestmates and that he was Aziraphale’s as much as the angel was his, in all senses of the word, that was something not just uplifting and warming, but mentally fortifying.

They’d make it through. He had no idea how but if either side, or indeed both, did try to separate them or punish them in some way, he…well, he’d picked up a thing or two from human ingenuity over the years, hadn’t he? Nothing that couldn’t be adapted, really.

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed, still smiling. “The two of us – and I am certain it will turn out fine.”

“If you’re about to say anything about ineffable plans, angel – “

“Well, why not?”

“Because an angel and a demon becoming nestmates is hardly going to be the part of any Plan, divine or ineffable or whatever!”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know that it is, either. You’re just looking for excuses.”

For a split-second, Aziraphale looked guilty but it was gone so soon Crowley wasn’t sure he’d seen it. Then the smile, which had momentarily faltered, returned.

“I choose to believe that She would not have instilled the nesting urge in angels in the first place if She didn’t want it utilised, as it were. It is built into us, after all. It’d be like blaming the architect for putting door in a house.”

“But you chose to nest for a demon,” the ginger pointed out. “Nesting is meant for angels.”

“And you are fallen angels. Such a lot was taken from you all when you fell, why not take that as well, if that was the case?”

“Why not take our wings, then? Remove all the painful reminders, which isn’t going to happen, because it’s supposed to be – “

“But nesting is something positive, isn’t it?” Aziraphale interrupted. His smile was tinged with a slight sadness. “Hardly painful, at least no more than it is for any angel if it’s rejected by the intended. So why not take that away?”

Crowley blinked. That was…he’d have to concede the point.

“Good point,” he said. “I still don’t believe that Heaven or Hell’s going to look at it like that.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said. There was something else to his smile now, just the hint of…steely devilment? Surely not? “Perhaps not. They haven’t found out yet, have they? And if they do…as I said, I have no intention of giving you up.”

He touched their foreheads together. “I made my decision, my dear, and I don’t regret it.”

“My nestmate. My beautiful angel,” Crowley said, and he let the deep, all-consuming love for his angel that he’d held inside of himself for so unfathomably long, restrained and contained and yet nurtured, show on his face fully, letting go of all restraints.

He pulled back a little and kissed, not the soft lips, tempting though it was, but instead the nose, lingering and soft. “My Aziraphale.”

That last sentence, that declaration, simple and short though it was, contained just about everything, really, assisted by his tone of voice.

If the smile before could’ve powered the city, then the smile now could power the entire South Coast, at least, and that paled in comparison with the love shining in those green eyes.

Yes. This was worth risking discorporation or outright destruction for.

Crowley leaned in again, but he was met halfway and the kiss he got had everything poured into it.

Perfect.

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I do have a sequel planned and I’ll most likely write one chapter from Aziraphale’s POV as suggested (so please stay tuned) but otherwise, this is it. A thank you to those who’ve read and especially those that have given feedback! <3