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Humans were surprisingly clever.
In the beginning, when Adam and Eve left the safety of the walls around Eden, the words they spoke were primitive and lacking in places as they neither spoke Enochian fluently or what would yet to be known as a Germanic tangent many thousands of years later. It was a hybrid between the three (for Ancient Egyptian also strung itself strongly in the sounds) that served them in the garden, to communicate and whisper together. And allow a snake to tempt them to take a bite of a sweetened apple, and an angel to aid with kind words and flaming sword for for survival after banishment. It allowed the first humans to communicate.
With each generation born, the language changed from anything resembling Enochian (something an angel and a demon would agree showed the humans becoming less and less angelic presenting as She had intended) to what would become the ancients language of Egyptian. Rolling on tongues, more easily learnt and wide spread. Even if, as the humans expanded, so too did the language to shift in dialects and form new languages.
This was all fine, as more and more tongues were crafted and history began to flow its course - as a demon and angel had all the time in the world to learn these new words. Learn as it evolved slowly, let the sounds roll from tongues with kindness or sharpness; but always a masked fondness towards each other. What wasn’t fine, was when creativity began to show itself.
At the invention of the written word, carved into stone, there had been two reactions. The first, an angel’s delight at seeing these clever humans learn how to communicate past the moment that he positively glowed as he poured over the first few carvings and traced lovingly at the stories preserved of divine intervention (“surely they won’t mind if I just... keep one. Right?”). The second, a demon's glare and squinting under a shaded hood as fingers pressed with more meaning at the shapes trying to understand how this formed the current words they’d been speaking for a good hundred years at this point. Ignoring the tense and awe-filled nature of the camp filled with Israel’s children he was sent to tempt towards sin as fingers ran along the stone not absorbing the heat of the desert.
This was when humans became too clever.
Over the thousands of years that passed, stories written down in so many languages and humans expanding further and further, growing cleverer and cleverer, reading had become more and more of a hate to Crowley. The words going from etchings he could trace or focus on if he shifted the stone or his head just slow enough to allow his eyes to focus (he refused to acknowledge it as a snake trait even if it definitely was that), to curved and tight ink. Flat on a page, tenderly crafted by the rich and the blessed and no amount of squinting helped, his eyes nothing more than a cousin of the snake still crawling on the ground as God cursed her creation. There was some bitterness to the lizards that kept their legs...
The only invention with books Crowley liked was the pictures some decided to add. Usually in tomes of knowledge or stories, but it helped. Allowed him to understand whenever Aziraphale showed a new book he collected if the author had deemed the book worthy enough to host pictures amongst its black and white words. The simple fact that he couldn’t read the letters was why he offered to take Aziraphale to plays after their invention with heavy feigned disinterest. Helped Shakespeare with a demonic miracle with a slight nudge from an angel, or other playwrights and musical productions grow in popularity afterwards, so something more interesting would be available for his poor eyes. The arts and fantasy wasn’t the reason he didn’t read, it was purely the fact he couldn’t.
After the Armageddidn’t, when they could find some semblance of a normal life they both secretly craved with the other, Crowley found himself lounging in a far too comfy sofa in the back of Aziraphale’s would-be-shop. Head propped up on the arm of the sofa, a tartan pillow below and arm curved for extra support behind his neck. One leg sprawled along the length and other bent over the back of the sofa, uncaring if he appeared ungraceful while equally knowing he still looked graceful. Pulling off the angling of his body and long limbs that only his snake traits could pull off effectively and defy the tight material of his jeans.
Glasses were firmly on his face, hiding that, while his head pointed away from his angel and seeming to stare at his phone, his eyes were angled towards him. Taking in the calming sight of Aziraphale reading under a lamp, almost curled up yet seated so proper upon a slightly frayed armchair. If his wings were in this plane of existence, Crowley could see them curling around as a blanket. Bringing comfort while Aziraphale lost himself in the words. A book had been offered, something with a worn green cover and crinkled page ends, but he’d declined and showed no interest towards it. Instead staring at his phone and flicking through various websites as though he could read that text instead.
Funny things, mobile phones, at least you could sway them slightly to help bring a little focus to words that were illuminated and enlarged upon that tiny screen. It hardly helped, only big headlines making some sense if he knew the word but the pictures helped more.
“You know, Crowley dear, I still don’t know why you just won’t read.”
“Ngk.” Crowley dragged his eyes back to his phone screen, scrolling down to appear as though he had been reading, before he turned his head and tilted it back slightly to look at his angel. “Told ya, I don’t do reading. That’s more your thing, angel.”
The pet name rolled off his tongue almost as a purr, so fond even if Crowley frowned and mouth was tight. Maybe Aziraphale wasn’t as engrossed in his book as he thought, and Crowley dropped his phone to his stomach as he waited almost expectantly for whatever the other entity wanted to say. Staring behind his lenses unblinking as Aziraphale had a slight smile and fond, relaxed expression upon his face. The light above illuminating his hair angelically that both made Crowley’s theoretical heart skip a beat from perfection, and his eyes squint and pupils narrow against the harsher light obscuring some of the angels face. Neither helped this situation.
In turn, Aziraphale met him with a bemused look, brows furrowed so slightly as fingers idly stroked the page between them. Treating it with the uttermost care, adoration there just like with his smile and Crowley looked away again for a moment.
“Really? You mean someone such as yourself-“
“A demon.”
“Who enjoys the art of theatre and cinema-“
“I endure it for you.”
“Truly cannot be into reading?”
Aziraphale has spoken adamantly through his interruptions, raising a brow with unspoken words. ‘You like fiction but won’t read it, really Crowley?’ Crowley matched the look with a frown and, in revolt, moved to pushed one of Aziraphale’s favourite pillows off the sofa with his foot. Placing his foot firmly in its place and forked tongue flicked out irritated. Curse this too angelic angel sometimes, his looks did more harm than his words often did. ‘You go too fast for me Crowley.’ Okay, except those ones.
“Yesss, just because I endure plays and occasionally go to the cinema, doesn’t mean I like fiction and need to read. Why are you being so pushy about this tonight, angel?” Hissing slightly, Crowley moved for his phone again and unlocked it. Scrolling through again and subconsciously began the gentle swaying of his hand to help his eyes try and focus on the headlines coming up. Something about... something. The photo underneath showed Downing Street so it was probably something diabolical.
There was a slight shuffle from across the room, the sound of a book closing softly and being placed down, before gentle footsteps came across the worn rug. Crowley grew more enamoured with his phone, glaring at it and ignored everything until he could taste the angel nearby, sweet and delicious to his tongue that he subconsciously flicked his tongue again. It really did taste delicious and too good to ignore. Like the first bite of an overly sweet cake that you had to savour.
Aziraphale tasted better than cake.
“Whaaat angel? I’m trying to see what the humanssss are doing.” Crowley leaned his head back against the arm of the sofa, glaring up at Aziraphale who was hoovering. Fussy, too kind angel. Eyes flickered to hands that were wringing themselves slightly, then back up at the slight pout to match the hand movement and Crowley sighed as he sat upright. So this was really bothering Aziraphale, for some reason. What was honesty so bad that it eating the angel up this badly when it came to his reading, or lack thereof?
“I’ve known you for over six thousand years Crowley, and I think by now I’ve come to notice some, at least some, of your habits.”
“Nah. You’re always too busy doing heavenly things, or reading. Not paying attention to me.” Crowley drawled, pushing glasses a little firmer onto his face so the metal bit into his temple in a bid to keep his eyes hidden. Sure, they could be more open around each other as nobody was watching their side now, but that didn’t mean he was ready for the softening of his eyes at the angels words to be seen. At how hearing he was noticed, important enough for that made his pupils dilate a little wider in adoration.
Demons didn’t love after all.
“Oh tsk Crowley, you know that’s not true. I’ve noticed that despite your impeccable way with words, they fall off your tongue like water on a duck.”
“They‘re slippery.”
“When you are stressed, more of that wonderful golden yellow shows in your eyes.”
“You try hiding it when stressssed.”
“You’ve always squinted during the day, since we stood on the walls of Eden.”
“It’s because you're dazzling.”
“Oh— thank you, but, also, that’s not the point! Dear, you claim the glasses are to hide your eyes from humans, which may have some truth, but we both know you do so to stop the sun hurting them. As you are a serpent in many ways. And I’ve done some reading-“
Crowley felt cold for a moment, going stiff before he sat up suddenly. Throwing both legs firmly to the ground as he stood and stared down the small height difference. “I am not a common garden ssssnake, angel. Whatever you thought you’d accomplish from reading, isss rude.”
“I know you are not a garden snake, for a start you're are too big and beautiful to be one of those. But I meant your traits. That always show up and are lovingly consistent. It got me curious, and I know it’s rude but— honestly. You get so prickly about your snake features it’s impossible to ask you what should be a simple question.” There was a faint darkness to Aziraphale’s cheeks, from frustration, and Crowley paused. Tongue flicking again nervously, before he bit it with slightly too sharp teeth. The motion wasn’t missed by Aziraphale, seemingly thinking in a way that was audible and likely along the lines of knowing he was tasting the air and ensuring he was safe, and Crowley made a noise.
Curse whoever wanted the blame. “Ngk.”
Crowley decided if this was going to be their evening he’d return to his too cold flat. Hide there until this sudden interest left the angel. Buried like most of their disagreements were. Moving to stand, fluid despite his previously slouched position. Already moving to snap his fingers to locate his jacket from wherever it was hung, back to the angel.
“Snakes have poor eyesight! Is... is that why you won’t read? Because you... can’t?” Frustration and then near quiet timidness came in those words, like a river being cut by rocks flowing into a still lake. Aziraphale going quiet afterwards as he remained fussing with his hands, knowing that he’d over stepped but also afraid clearly of an angry outburst. Eyes kept moving from Crowley then to the ground, and when he did see it wasn’t a befitting look.
Glancing over his shoulder, Crowley observed. Eyes flicking from the movement back up to the hurt expression before he groaned. Why did he feel guilt towards Aziraphale overstepping unspoken boundaries? He felt guilty seeing how upset he was and it made this all the more frustrating. Several sounds escaped the demon, syllables hissed and catching before the guilt won out as he spoke. “Yessss! Okay, fine. Ngk! I could never read, not really, not after humansss moved away from carving words in stone. As you’ve probably read, snakesss have poor eyesight. It’s built for tracking movement and low lights not... not ssssmall details and everything else.”
Pausing, to Aziraphale Crowley did currently look like a snake ready to strike in that moment. Tense and still, anger coming off in waves that made the angel sigh. Closing his eyes for a moment before slowly walking to be in front of the demon. Not getting close, as that snake in Crowley would strike without thought and Aziraphale liked to not experience if Crowley was a poisonous snake or not.
“Oh Crowley... dear, I didn’t mean to make you upset. You know I like your eyes, wish you’d not wear those ghastly glasses so much when we’re alone, but I wanted to know. As... as I had a thought. On how to help.”
A low hiss escaped Crowley, mouth parting a little as lip curled back. Exposing his sharper teeth and forked tongue low in his mouth. If he was a rattlesnake, his tail would be shaking to ward off any more words. “Sssstop speaking, you’ve ssssaid enough.”
“No, I’ve clearly not said enough! Oh stop being so sinful and proud for one moment you silly serpent, and listen to me. Now sit down and stop hissing at me, otherwise I’ll... I’ll get one of those flutes and charm you!” A small huff followed the words, cheeks definitely darker now in frustration and Crowley shifted from one foot to the other slowly. Testing the weight and swaying slowly before he let out several sounds of stumbled words and sat heavily on the sofa. Pressing into the corner and slouching heavily that he almost could slide out with how low he sat. Eyes sharply on Aziraphale who met him with a cold look, pleading, and then he let out a breath. “Right...”
And then suddenly, the angel is gone. Not for long, just long enough for Crowley to sink lower and lay his feet on the coffee table. Folding arms across his chest feeling a little exposed. Why of all days was today his - the - angel want to bring this up? If he knew, then why did it matter? How long had he known? As Aziraphale spoke as though he had filed away all the little traits Crowley had linking him to his snake form. Like his books; on a shelf ready to be perused and mused over.
Crowley wasn’t a zoo animal.
Maybe he should eat around Aziraphale next time, when hunger struck. Just sit there, unhinge his jaw and swallow the meal whole. Last time, which was a good couple of thousand years ago, the angel turned a nice shade of green and didn’t meet his eyes for the rest of the meal. Back then it brought delight, and a comfort knowing his eyes weren’t been stared at again.
The plan was forming in his head, a distraction for Crowley from whatever impending doom Aziraphale was about to bring upon him, and also from what else the angel noticed (his cold blooded nature, the folded fangs behind his row of sharper human teeth, scales growing over fresh cuts as they healed), when the angel in question returned. A book in hand, and determined expression on his face still. Sometimes it was easy to remember this was an angel tasked with guarding the eastern wall of Eden when faced with such focus.
“Oh sit up dear. You’ll hurt your back sitting so low. I want you to just... try something. For me? I promise if you don’t like it, I’ll never bring it up again.” Crowley made sounds, slouching further, before slowly he pushed himself up using the coffee table. Slithering to a slightly less horizontal position to merely being tightly pressed into the corner of the sofa and slouched there. Eyes were on the book, wondering what it was. How a single book was so different to the thousands out on the shop floor.
“What are you going to do, read to me?” Snapping a little sulkily, Crowley leaned more on the arm of the sofa to keep a gap as Aziraphale sat down. Knees brushing despite his best efforts, and Crowley hated how every small sign of kindness made his love of this, the - ngk - his angel, grow strong.
Aziraphale ignored his fussing, trailing fingers along the cover in thought before opening the pages without showing them. Fingers still trailing lovingly along the pages as he smiled a little to himself, thinking then shaking his head. Leaning a little closer to Crowley completely unaware of the demons predicament as he placed the book across both their legs. “Not exactly- that is, if this works, I'll have to read a little bit. But no. Hopefully you’ll be reading by the end of this.”
“Why do you sound so sure angel?”
“Because I trust the creativity of humans. And if I’m wrong, I- well, how about we place a bet. If you are reading, you have to take those glasses off more around me. If I’m wrong, dinner is on me.”
“Ooh, gambling now? Don’t let them hear you.”
“Please, they don’t care. And neither do I. it’s our side now. Now, give me your hand.” Smirk formed at the reminder of their side, not caring what Heaven or Hell thought, but instruction to offer his hand caught Crowley off guard. Blinking and then peering over his glasses edge for a moment. Frowning and mouth open slightly as pupils went thinner and yellow spread across his eyes for a brief moment, before he handed it over. Acting indifferent, uncaring even as a soft, warm hand took his. Gently wrapping around his wrist, guiding it down to the open book and placing it at the left of the page. Near the binding and spine of the book, and Crowley frowned. Aziraphale’s hand came to rest atop gently, as a guide almost with a finger resting atop the back of his hand and for now leaving Crowley to explore the page in silence. Finger running over the bumps he felt in too perfectly aligned ways, there with a purpose. Especially for a book living inside Aziraphale’s shop.
“What is thi-“
“Just focus. Please.”
The slight beg to Aziraphale’s tone made Crowley fall silent, letting the angel move his hand to trace those lines of bumps across the page. Deliberate on the rough page and after tracing the shapes the gentle voice of Aziraphale returned. Hand taken back to the left side of the page to where a single bump sat. “That means ‘A’. As they’d teach children, for Apple. Single bump, top left. O-oh, all the bumps will be in a pattern of two across and three down. To help you understand but... yes, anyway.”
Carefully his finger was dragged across the paper. Not going far, over blank space before another two pressed bumps appeared. Two down, still deliberate and there as Aziraphale continued. “‘B’. Top and middle left. For Bentley.”
It took until Crowley was trailing three bumps - “‘f’. For feath— flowers. Top and middle left and top right” - to realise what was happening. Eyes turning to look at the book now with shocked interested, awe, under his hand, settled on both their laps and the pages were mostly blank to his eyes. Except for those bumps he could feel pressed into the pages, which were hard to see with his eyes just like the black unfocused lines beneath them. But he could feel them.
“‘Zira... What is this? I mean, it’s clear you’re speaking the alphabet, I get that but I don’t...”
“It’s Braille, dear. Humans are so clever, inventing languages and writing it down. But they didn’t just write down words to be seen, they invented a written word for those who were blind. Through touch. It really is quite clever, and you see when I realised I... I wanted to see. If you could learn to read that way. You said yourself that after humans stopped carving the words you couldn’t read, meaning touch had to play a part— a-are you okay? Is this okay?”
Crowley blinked, several sounds leaving his mouth as he tried to form words. Now they definitely felt slippery around his slender tongue, trying to find the right one for this situation but it always slid away as a hiss and croaked sound leaving him to fall silent with a nod. Eyes glanced up to look at Aziraphale, studying him behind his glasses and his relentless fussing even now and Crowley didn’t need to smile to express how he felt. His eyes were doing it for him.
Thank Go-, Sat… somebody for the glasses.
“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to make you— I wanted to make you happy. I just thought that if I was noticing these things there had to be a way—“ Aziraphale fumbled around in his pockets, refusing to let go of Crowley’s hand, before producing a silken handkerchief and gently, with no hesitation, he brought it to Crowley’s cheeks. Dabbing lightly at tears the demon hadn’t realise had started.
“Wha—“ Bringing a hand to his face, Crowley touched his damp cheek and realised that he was indeed crying. Because he was reading. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that straight forward. It wasn’t the act of reading making him cry, that would be pathetic, but it was the clear care this angel, his angel, had taken to figure out the problem and solution. It was these small things that got to the demon the most as it made him feel truly— dangerous word. As demons didn’t feel that word.
“I’m not sad, that is well I- ngk, why do you always notice the pointless things.” It was true, as if his angel could notice the quirks of being a snake, it brought up the question of why couldn’t he still not see how much Crowley cared for him.
“It’s not pointless Crowley... quite the opposite in fact.” Hand stilled against his cheek, lingering perhaps too long before a soft smile came. Aziraphale again appearing all the more angelic and calming that made Crowley stare. Eyes flickering to take in his angels face, enamoured and adoring. Lost for a moment, drowning in his angel willingly, until the hand withdrew and Aziraphale spoke again. “Come on, I want to see you learn the rest of the alphabet.”
“I know the alphabet.” Crowley mumbled back, a sulking tone to hide his embarrassment as his eyes went back to their joined hands. The gentle way Aziraphale realigned his finger over the next set of pressed dots and continued. Letting out a sharp sniff to still any of his pointless tears, mouth tightening before slowly a curve formed at the corner of his mouth. Slowly his finger was guided across the page, Aziraphale allowing the demon to study the pattern, remember it with what letter it associated with. It was relatively easy, as there was a pattern forming. Where one dot rested, the following letter added to it or taken away, almost flowing. A pattern. It made more sense than the black scratches he was use to seeing, consistent and easy, that after the final letter they sat in silence for a moment. Crowley still dragging his finger along the dots he could reach, not wanting to break away from Aziraphel.
Somewhere during the trailing, the learning, Aziraphale had come closer. So shoulders brushed comfortably. Crowley having leant slightly towards the angel, head tilting down to feel soft white hair against his cheek and slowly closing his eyes to focus more easily. It was comfortable, no worry forming and Crowley had started to smile a little more to Aziraphale’s joy when he took a cheeky glance up.
They remained like that for a moment longer - the demon content, and the angel wondering - before gently Aziraphale moved their hands down the page. To a tighter line of bumps across the page, moving back to the left and slowly dragging Crowley’s finger across them once, then again. A slight frown formed, Crowley opening his eyes slightly as they all but one matched the patterns above. Clearly letters, and after another pass slowly Crowley spoke quietly and with a croak.
“Al-alphabet.”
Aziraphale smiled wider, leaning into Crowley further so his head rested on the demon’s shoulder. Tilting head to stare up, share his joy, as he then nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yes, dear, yes! O-oh, I’m so happy. I knew you would be able to read, with this, I just knew it.”
It was almost like Aziraphale was the one who had read the single word, done something that hadn’t been accessible to Crowley in thousands of years, that a crooked grin formed over the angels’ joy. Sharp teeth showing as Crowley looked down, peering through his tinted lenses as honestly, the feeling in his chest was near uncomfortable. Burning slightly. Though as he took in his angel, that angelic look about him again, Crowley let out a huff and brought a hand up to his glasses. Taking one of the metal arms between a thumb and finger and slowly pulling the protective layer away. Looking at them once off his face, hanging, then carefully tossing them to the empty space on the sofa. “Guess you won.”
Eyes remained averted, as Crowley blinked to adjust to the brightness then down to the page again, ignoring that soft gasp from beside him. Not wanting to give too much away, knowing he still had adoration showing in his eyes. Trailing the series of dots again. This was only the first page, so who knew what else was in this book. More sentences, rules or maybe a simple story.
“I guess I did, not that dinner out would have been a true loss. You… you should keep reading though.” Aziraphale had spoken softly and just a little hesitantly, at the end, so whatever was in this book wasn’t straight forward. Or Crowley expected too much, that he gave a quick glance with guarded eyes before waving his hand. Indicating to continue with the learning, though without the glasses he couldn’t feign disinterest.
Hand was lifted away, the page turned and then finger rested at the top of the next page. Over a single dot, which Crowley came to learn indicated a new sentence, and slowly he read out loud nonsensical and basic sentences. Matching letters to sounds then to words. Even after he became confident, the guiding hand of Aziraphale never left. Settled gently atop of his, growing looser but not leaving. A stroke stroke coming from the pinkie finger to the side of his hand that made Crowley flush ever so slightly, and it was all so very domestic. Comfortable and clearly they were content. Letting Crowley grow more familiar with this form of written word, until Aziraphale let out a soft sigh.
“You know, as useful this book is. You should… well, it’s not like you will find your name in here. It would be such a shame to not learn to read it.” That nervous energy was back, Crowley glancing but not addressing it. Only shrugging and feeling a slight mourn when that hand finally parted from his. Gently taking the book from their lap and Aziraphale pulled a single sheet from the back. “There’s machines, like a typewriter. A bit old fashioned compared to computers, but you can use it to write in braille. I procured one, so if you did take to this…”
The sheet was offered, and Crowley couldn’t stop himself gently brushing a hand as he took the paper. Staring at it knowing Aziraphale had taken the time to produce this sheet. Not knowing how he’d respond, and Crowley felt nerves grow. Giving a single glance across, at how incredibly caring his angel was, before he moved to support the sheet on his lap. Peering down and bringing his right hand to find the first word.
As expected, tracing across the C then R led to the demon learning the specifics of his name. In a way, as nice a notion it was, it wasn’t that special. He’d had many names, and this was his most common but the sounds were obvious. Not like Aziraphale however, which took longer for Crowley to learn as he traced the complicated arrangement of pressed dots. Finding it over the top and not befitting his angel, though he did tilt his head as he traced the L and E repeatedly. “Huh… I always thought it would be the e and then l.”
“Oh, well… traditionally yes. Most angels have an ‘el’ at the end. But I… I never saw it like that.”
“Suits you.” Crowley spoke honestly, as his angel was nothing like the others and he trailed the name again. Missing the flush from Aziraphale, how he leaned away for a moment as he rubbed his cheek with a single finger then leaned in closer again. Closer than he had been as he laid his head upon Crowley’s shoulder, a faint smile remaining set on his flushed cheeks.
Finger continued to trail over the word, obsessed almost. Fitting since Crowley definitely was obsessed with his angel. It felt unnatural that someone had given him this much thought, put effort behind it to… gift him something. Something that wasn’t a material object, as those eventually faded. Consumed, broken, or in Hell’s case stolen. This was something that would remain, be constant and his now. And every time Crowley would trail these bumps, he would be reminded that his angel gifted him this form of sight.
Closing eyes tightly for a moment, the ache was back in his chest. Too tight it stole his breath and Crowley found himself turning to rest his cheek upon the top of Aziraphale’s hair. Nuzzling ever so slightly, wanting to return the favour. Show how much he cared, even if he’d been doing that for six thousand years. Or hoped he had, since his angel never showed any sign of seeing his feelings.
Demons didn’t deserve it.
Slowly eyes opened, gold glancing towards Aziraphale before back to the page. Finger stroking again over Aziraphale’s name, ingrained now in his memory and slowly it moved to start searching for letters among more pressed bumps.
It was mostly nonsense now, random words or sentences deemed important by Aziraphale (he gave no comments as to why), and slowly Crowley could begin to understand what was interesting about reading. In his own way, as the calming nature of sitting comfortably and getting lost was appealing. Like daydreaming, so if it told a story it could be addicting. Though not to his angel’s level. That was too obsessive and almost sinful for an angel.
That caused a brief smirk to form, knowing he’d never admit it out loud how sinful Aziraphale was but he felt the smirk drop when he trailed a sentence. Finger stilling and the urge to look down at his angel forming swiftly, but instead Crowley ran his finger back across the line and reread it. Traced the middle word, a four letter word, repeatedly. “Azira-”
“Ah, yes dear?”
Aziraphale’s voice carried all his nerves that Crowley didn't need to move to look at him to see it. Clearly this was on purpose, had a purpose and Crowley bit his lip. Pressing a little firmer at that sentence causing the page to crinkle slightly.
⠠⠊ ⠇⠕⠧⠑ ⠽⠕⠥
I love you.
It was a silent confession, or a cruel joke. It was hard to tell, and maybe if this wasn’t part of an elaborate set up - of sitting together, Aziraphale making him learn to read braille, the lingering touches - Crowley may have turned in frustrated anger. Instead he felt it simmer, waiting in case this was a joke despite everything they had gone through. As how could it be? They stood together and faced the end of the world, Crowley had lost his angel and gotten him back and now…
“You found it then, I see? I… I wanted to make it special. Since, you know, I’m not always that good with words. At least not when being firm, or straightforward with people. I’m just dreadfully clumsy with words, my dear.” Aziraphale paused, a soft breathless chuckle leaving him. A hand moved into Crowley’s view, as though debating moving to hold his hand again before withdrawing. Clearly finding it too much right now as his angel continued to speak. “No, I am definitely better with written words. So I thought… it was time to acknowledge something I’ve known for a long time.”
“H-how long?” Crowley croaked out, unable to help himself.
“Since you held out a briefcase, in the ruins of a church, and said ‘a little demonic miracle of my own’.”
A shudder went through Crowley, hand tightening on the paper to crumble it slightly. Unable to believe those words so easily, but he had proof still under his finger. The four letter word demons can’t feel, shouldn’t feel or desire and here he was. Feeling himself cling to a word not even yet uttered, feel how it filled him to be acknowledged in such a way, filled an empty piece of him. A piece torn out from him when he fell from Heaven and had always been looking to be filled. Most demons picked to fill it with hate, but when he’d stood upon the wall of Eden, staring out the desert flats and listening to an angel babble about giving his sword away, Crowley had decided he wanted to fill it with whatever feeling the angel had given him that day.
Slowly Crowley lifted his head, turning to look at Aziraphale and taking in how he looked. The dark flush, flustered expression as eyes darted around the room and hands worrying together. Even his ears had turned red, standing out so strongly with his near white hair and Crowley drank it in hungrily. Not aware of his own expression, the awe as his eyes caught the light with un-shed tears. Pupils narrower, the gold showing across his entire eye. And his own cheeks were red, clashing with his hair as he moved his mouth silently. Trying to find words.
Aziraphale had plenty for them both.
“I know, I know. You can laugh all you want later on, but no matter how many times I wanted to say it I never could. And I was afraid, for a long time, that you couldn’t feel the same. Being a… I was so blind to not see how much you-- that is, how much you felt the same. All the clues and subtle ways you’d treat me and I just… just ignored it in fear. Of rejection and… and them.”
“Aziraphale--”
“But I should have said something, not kept hurting you. Making you think I didn’t care, when that was the exact opposite-”
“Angel!”
Silence fell between them, the angel flinching at the shout, but no more words came as Crowley suddenly moved to bring a hand up. Cupping gently at his angel’s cheek, holding him in place before pressing lips firmly against the others with eyes closed. Listening to the small gasp coming, before a quiet groan following as their lips moved. Not painful, but slowly eager and savouring the touch. Maybe even timid, afraid of scaring the angel already that when they parted Crowley felt a shake in his hand. Staring so openly, eyes still wet, that he looked afraid before he mumbled. “Shut up...”
A twitch of lips came from Aziraphale, almost a smile as his eyes moved slowly across Crowley’s expression.
“You know, you really do have beautiful eyes.”
“Bastard.” A sly smirk started to form, despite the first tear falling down his sharp cheek. It was said with such fondness, such care, that it only made Aziraphale smile more. Sheepish maybe. It was enough to feel the urge to devour his angel, that Crowley leaned in slowly again. Coming into a second kiss even slower, head tilting with a sigh when Aziraphale leaned in just as relaxed. It felt so right, kissing his angel after so many centuries. After so much upset and bitter words thrown towards him, but it also felt too good to be true.
No wonder Aziraphale had wanted him to read tonight so adamantly. His angel wanted to say something important. Desired to share something special, and Crowley didn’t mind it didn’t come with words. Wasn’t spoken out loud between them as then someone might have overheard. When this was his, his warmth of feeling so loved and adored.
It wasn’t like he’d spoken the words aloud yet either. Finding a different means to let his angel know.
Humans were surprisingly clever.
For all their struggles and changes in a blink of an eye to an ethereal being, one human always did something that changed the world for everyone. Be for good, or bad; whether it be the spoken word developing, or written words tapped into stone then etched into paper. It was creative and changes that came so quickly. See, as humans continued to grow clever, learning new things and reinventing the old, they also took a moment to reflect. As why should the written word be lost just because eyes failed someone?
It was incredible to those who paid attention. Resilience, kindness and ingenuity. Of a creation not wholly good or evil. It was a reason to want them to flourish and grow. See where the next six thousand years could take them.