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You left your diary at my house

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"Where the bloody hell is it?" Crowley growled. He had practically torn his flat apart looking for his notebook, not a diary*. It should have been tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket, but it wasn't. It also wasn't between the seats of the couch, under the table, or in his bed . "Maybe it's in the Bentley," he muttered hopefully. He really wanted it to be there because the only answer left would be that he had dropped it in Aziraphale's shop. He walked slowly out towards his car, every step was a mantra of 'please, please let it be there'. 


Crowley pulled the door open and glared at the floor around the front bench. "No I guess it wouldn't be there." Some kind of ultimate karma for falling. Musing to himself he thought, "What're the chances Aziraphale even noticed an extra book in that mess of a bookshop?" Every time Crowley was there, books covered every surface, his would probably blend right in. He started to feel better. "He's probably too busy re-reading Wilde or something to have even noticed." He climbed into the driver's seat sped away in the Bentley on his way to Aziraphale's shop.


*If you ever happened to see Crowley with the notebook and asked about it, he'd tell you it was full of important demonic things, which was only partially true. It also contained quite a few pages dedicated to Aziraphale.



Aziraphale was reading, although it wasn't anything written by Wilde. He was going about cleaning up the wine glasses they had left out from the night before and had noticed a new book on the floor. Aziraphale knew every single book in his shop and this was not one of his. He picked up the book, smiling to himself. Crowley had gifted books to Aziraphale before, so finding this new one after a visit wasn't too much of a surprise. Probably forgot to hand it to him in the haze of alcohol. He turned the book over in his hands. It was small, nearly fit in the palm of his hand, bound in black leather, but no distinguishing marks on the outside. He flipped it open looking for a title or something to tell him what he was holding, when he noticed Crowley's handwriting. The first few pages read like a report into head office recounting a list of evil deeds, making all the parking meters on the block time out. On the next page though, Aziraphale saw his name. It looked like Crowley had drafted a letter to him. And although he knew he shouldn't snoop, he couldn't help himself and read on anyway.



My dearest angel, Mea vita.There's only one way to say it, though I'll tell you every way that I can. You mean everything to me, I love you. I keep hoping that if I show you how much that I love you that you'd know. That you'd be able to sense my heart's intention. I won't rush you, however long it takes, I believe we're bound to be.

Forever yours - C


"Oh!" he said in shock dropping the book. His hands shook, as he reached for his chair so he could sit before his legs gave out. Mea vita , it had been a few years since he had used latin but he still knew what it meant "my life" he whispered to himself, not quite believing it. Crowley loved him. He blushed furiously, realizing that Crowley kept a diary and had written about him in it. He stooped over to pick the book up off the floor, it had opened to another page with more notes, poems, doodles, all about how much Crowley loved him. Aziraphale thought about what the letter said, realizing over their years of friendship Crowley had truly always shown him love. He started to  panic, now what was he supposed to do. Surely Crowley would notice his book was missing, and would come back to get it. "Well no use get worked up over it, I'm sure he'll be here soon if he's not already on his way." He stood up from his chair, tugged at his waistcoat, and walked over to his kitchenette to set the kettle on to boil.




The Bentley hopped the curb as Crowley pulled up in front of the bookshop. He had almost convinced himself that he was right, that Aziraphale wouldn't have noticed his notebook. Until he walked through the doors and saw Aziraphale sipping tea on the couch, the notebook sitting next to him. "Well so much for that" Crowley muttered and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. No need to freak out he told himself, maybe Aziraphale hadn't opened it yet, gotta play it cool. "Oh hey Angel, I dropped my notebook with my reports for work in it. Glad to see you found it, otherwise I'd have to make up a bunch of stuff for the paperwork." Luckily being a demon he had a natural skill for lying through his teeth, he reached his hand out for the book.




Aziraphale quirked his mouth into the angelic version of a smirk "Yes, wouldn't want you getting in trouble." He placed the book in Crowley's hand them looked down at his tea avoiding his gaze. "I… umm, I need to tell you. When I found your book there, I didn't know what it was, so I opened it. I… I didn't know it was yours." He finally looked up at Crowley who looked nearly ready to discorporate. "Crowley, I read the letter you wrote to me. You really love me don't you?" 


"Uh.." Crowley was panicking. His fight or flight response was telling him to run, to go out the door, jump in the car and drive as far as he could. He risked a glance at Aziraphale, hoping to gauge how bad he had messed up, wondering how many years he would need to disappear this time to make everything ok again. But he was startled by what he saw, Aziraphale didn't look upset, if anything he seemed hopeful. Crowley decided to risk it "ya, angel I really do."


Aziraphale walked over, nearly closing the space between them and reached his hand out towards Crowley's sunglasses. "May I?"




"There that's better," Aziraphale folded the sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of Crowley's jacket. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel like you couldn't tell me, and that it took me so long to notice. Mea vita, I love you dearest, more than anything in this world." He reached his hand toward Crowley again, but this time he rested it against the demon’s cheek, brushing his thumb gently over sharp cheekbones. "Crowley I would really like to kiss you right now, if that's okay."


Crowley's eyes swam with unshed tears, and hissed out, "Yesss, please Aziraphale." Suddenly soft lips pushed desperately against his own. It felt like a soothing balm to a wound. He opened his mouth a bit wanting to taste Aziraphale's soft lips and wound his fingers through the Angel's soft curls. "Angel," he gasped pulling away. "I'm glad you read my book."