Chapter Text
In all the years he’d known Aziraphale, Crowley had never seen the angel’s soulmark. He knew Aziraphale had one, everyone did – angels, demons, humans, the lot. The marks were located in different places, there wasn’t any rhyme or reason to it, or there didn’t seem to be. Sometimes Crowley thought, if he ever got the chance to talk to Her again, he’d ask about soulmarks, and soulmates, and why she’d done it. He didn’t mind having one, he was just curious. That same sort of curiosity was why’d he’d fallen in the first places, and some things never changed, not even after 6,000 years. Crowley had always been curious, and if his soulmate was still out there (he assumed they were,) well – he’d like to know.
When he was in his own body, his soulmark was on his left calf. He didn’t hide it like some people did, but he didn’t go showing it off either. Crowley wore whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and if his soulmark showed then it showed. But now, in Aziraphale’s body, the temptation to look for the angel’s soulmark was terrible. Crowley had always held a preposterously slim hope – soulmark notwithstanding, he was deeply, stupidly in love with the angel, and he had been for 6,000 years. He so desperately wanted to know if Aziraphale was his mate. This was the perfect opportunity to check, the only chance like this Crowley would ever have. But he couldn’t abuse the angel’s trust like that, couldn’t look for a soulmark, not now. Not when they didn’t even know if this crazy scheme would work, if Heaven and Hell would really buy it.
“Choose your faces wisely,” Agnes Nutter’s prophecy had said. Aziraphale had thought (and Crowley agreed) that this meant they should switch bodies. Crowley in the angel’s body would survive the hellfire waiting for Aziraphale in Heaven, and the angel in Crowley’s body would outlast the holy water waiting in Hell. If they survived long enough to switch back, they would be free. Maybe the angel would be so happy that he’d show Crowley his soulmark if the demon asked. After all, Aziraphale had never mentioned a soulmate to Crowley. And despite the angel’s insistence over the years that they were ‘not friends,’ Crowley was certain that if Aziraphale knew his soulmate, he would have said something.
Abandoning the idea of searching the body he was currently inhabiting for a soulmark, Crowley instead decided to see if he could get some sleep. Tomorrow was almost certainly going to be a very long day.
*****
Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale didn’t have to go looking for the demon’s soulmark because he’d seen it before. Sitting in Crowley’s flat, in Crowley’s body, the angel couldn’t stop looking at it. The reason for this was quite simple – the soulmark on Crowley’s leg matched the one on Aziraphale’s arm. They were soulmates. But Crowley didn’t know it. The angel knew his demonic counterpart didn’t know what they truly were to each other. Crowley would have said something. But now Crowley was in his body, would be for the next 24 hours at least, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder if the demon would find it. The soulmark on the angel’s body that matched his own.
Part of him wanted Crowley to find it, wanted to stop concealing it from him. It had only gotten harder over the years, especially since Aziraphale had realized how attracted to Crowley he really was. He couldn’t tell Crowley they were soulmates, but maybe while he was in Aziraphale’s body, the demon would see it for himself.
After the Armageddon that wasn’t and all this aftermath, Aziraphale was mentally and physically exhausted. He really should take Crowley’s suggestion and try to sleep. But he just couldn’t. Only a few more hours until the potential end of his existence (the end of Crowley’s existence too, insisted his brain). The angel spent the rest of the night sitting on Crowley’s bed, wide-awake, watching out the window until morning came.
*****
They’d done it! Against all odds, old Agnes Nutter had been right and they’d managed to outfox Heaven and Hell! Crowley was absolutely elated as they switched back to their own bodies, and Aziraphale seemed rather giddy himself.
“We’re free, angel! We’re free! We’re on our own side, forever!”
Crowley grabbed the angel’s hand, spun him around.
“We can go wherever we want, do whatever we want, together! No more looking over our shoulders to make sure we’re not being followed – what do you want to do first?”
Aziraphale had gone slightly pale, but still smiled at Crowley.
“Well, my dear, I think perhaps lunch. And a drink, maybe.”
Crowley snapped his fingers. “The Ritz then! I’ll buy – I owe you one, from – I don’t remember when, but I’m sure it’s my turn.”
Aziraphale smiled and accepted Crowley’s arm when the demon offered it. Sitting in The Ritz with the angel he loved, watching him eat food and enjoying high quality wine, Crowley had never been happier.
“To the world,” he said, and their glasses clinked.
*****
Back in the bookshop, more wine was poured. The angel and the demon relaxed even further. Crowley was practically one with the sofa, sprawled out across it like he didn’t have bones. Aziraphale, rather buzzed himself, had to admit that the demon was incredibly appealing like that, so relaxed and happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly happy, always worried about Heaven looking over his shoulder. But he was happy now. And rather warm – it must have been the alcohol, making him feel that way. Drunk on freedom and copious amounts of wine, Aziraphale peeled his jacket off and draped it over a chair.
“Woo, angel! Take it all off!” Crowley’s words were slurred but his eyes were fixed on Aziraphale.
Ordinarily, drunk or not, the angel would have recognized the danger and stopped there. But tonight he kept going, removing his bowtie and rolling up his sleeves.
“That’s what I’m talking abo-“ The rest of the word abruptly cut off. The empty wine bottles around the shop started to refill as Crowley sobered up. Aziraphale blinked at him, confused. But Crowley wasn’t looking at him, or rather, not at his face. The demon’s gaze was fixed on the exposed skin of Aziraphale’s right arm, almost at the elbow. His soulmark. The angel looked from his soulmark to his soulmate and back again.
“Oh hell,” said Aziraphale, and sobered up.