09 Nov 2019
“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale said sweetly, shifting his head to look up at the demon from his place on Crowley’s chest.
“Mm?” she responded, halting the finger that was tracing gentle patterns against her angel’s shoulder.
“What are your feelings on weddings? In, er, general terms, I mean.”
In which Aziraphale really wants to ask Crowley to marry him, but is painfully awkward and also super super lovesick.
Why did Crowley always call him that? He always assumed it was an adversarial jab, a reminder of their opposition to each other, but after all this talk of “our side,” Aziraphale had rather assumed he would stop. But he didn’t stop. If anything, he had been using it more as of late.
Better not to bring it up, the angel thought, but somehow that thought must not have had the right amount of conviction behind it, because moments later Aziraphale heard himself asking quietly, “Crowley, why do you always call me ‘angel’?” He kicked himself the moment it came out. He dreaded what the answer might be."
In which Crowley is hopelessly in love with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is hopelessly oblivious and in denial