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They’ve been sitting at this nice restaurant for a little over an hour when Crowley leans forward, pushing his half-full wine glass and empty plate to the side in favor of reaching across and taking Aziraphale’s hand in his own.
Aziraphale knows what is coming before Crowley even opens his mouth and still he does not dare to hope.
“Have I ever told you the story of the first star I created?” Crowley cradles Aziraphale’s hand in his own, as if it is the most precious thing in the world.
His reply takes a minute, a sense of almost shock sitting strong in his stomach alongside the wine and cake. Crowley has not told a story since the incident with the Archangel Michael after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, ever since something happened in Heaven that Crowley won’t speak about.
“Methuselah?” Azirapahle watches Crowley’s face, waiting for some sort of clue into what emotions spiral through his mind. He’s wearing his glasses tonight, no matter how much the angel wishes he wouldn’t, the red tinted lenses blocking the beautiful golden eyes that Aziraphale has loved over the centuries. “I believe you’ve mentioned it darling.”
When Crowley shakes his head it’s a stunted movement, his hands shake around where they hold Aziraphale’s. The angel titles his head, “Dearest are you–”
“I remember the first star I ever made.” Crowley’s voice is barely above a whisper. “It shone so bright that I thought it would catch Her eye and so I snuffed it out. Crushed it between my palms and felt the heavenly fire burn the skin away.”
It sounds painful, Aziraphale can remember how hot that heavenly fire burned but he had never seen it harm an angel before.
Only demons.
“I named her Eden , centuries before there ever was one.” Crowley smiles, a soft sort of smile that holds more pain that Aziraphale wants it too. “When she was gone, minutes after being created, I thought of the scars as Eden too.”
Aziraphale holds very still as Crowely moves again. The demon opens his hands slowly, baring his palms to the angel almost in supplication and Aziraphale’s eyes find the scars. They look like bursts of starlight, decorating his palms and he wonders how he has never noticed them before now.
“I didn’t think angels could get scars.” Aziraphale’s reply is carefully placed in the air and accompanied with a soft push towards the waiter to turn away just as he has chosen to approach the table and offer more wine. Aziraphale does not want the moment to break, not when Crowley is telling his stories.
The demon shakes his head and closes his palms. “They can’t.” He pauses and attempts to pull his hands away and Aziraphale allows him to pull one away, keeping the other wrapped protectively between warm palms. Crowley sips his wine. “I think that is the moment I started to fall, after creating that star and snuffing it out.”
Aziraphale’s question passes through his lips without his permission, “Why?” He holds back on reacting and instead favors watching Crowley’s face for the little expressions he is not so great at hiding.
It is shown clearly on his face, the fear and worry that he holds at every mention of his Fall-with-a-capital-F. Crowley makes no attempt to control his expression and answers the question, “Because I Fell for asking questions, and that was the first time I questioned Her. Though, I don’t think I would have counted it as such.” There is a faint smile on his lips, curling up the edges of his mouth and drawing out the slight pink tint on either of Crowley’s cheeks.
Aziraphale copies the smile, if only a little unsure.
“When I met you in Eden, they had only just healed.” Crowley’s hand makes itself known as he brushes his fingertips over the inside of Aziraphale’s wrist. “I think that when I was first burned it was meant to be a warning, but then I continued with my questions and Fell.”
Aziraphale nods, and leans forward, propping his head on his hand and waiting for his lover to continue with his stories.
“But that isn’t a story I’ll tell you about. Not now at least.”
Some part of Aziraphale feels disappointed that he won’t know that story, but the feeling is fleeting and he is back to watching his love smile and sip wine.
“You have another question.” Crowley states it, head tilted to the side and his trapped hand does not still in Aziraphale’s, his fingertips brush over smooth skin and palms.
“Do you regret Falling?” It’s not a question he would have asked during the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, or even during their centuries long friendship–or courtship, whichever term you prefer. It is only now, with love on the table and a child that they have saved, does Aziraphale feel confident enough to ask about Falling-with-a-capital-F.
“No.” The reply is fast and accompanied with a smile that looks more genuine than the one before. “I wouldn’t have met you, or Adam, or the Them if I hadn’t Fallen.”
Aziraphale isn’t so sure about that, but he won’t question it not when Crowley smiled so genuinely and openly.
“I have more.” Crowley taps his hand on his wine glass, filling it with a small miracle that makes Aziraphale follow suit.
They both sip their wine, and the angel asks around the rim of the glass, “More what, dove?”
Crowley sips, “More scars.”
That surprises Aziraphale, more than he would admit. He leans forward in the same way as before, giving Crowley the space to tell his stories when he is ready.
It takes him longer than the previous time to begin this story and when he starts, it is in the same soft voice as before. The restaurant has quieted by miracle, though Aziraphale cannot be sure if it was his own or Crowley’s.
When he begins his story it is accompanied by his hand pressing against the side of his glasses, not taking them off, but holding onto the arm of them as if bracing himself.
“When I was given my eyes it was not a welcomed gift, but I knew without them I’d be unable to–to appreciate the sky and stars I had created so I allowed them to be bestowed upon me.” Crowley pinches the arm of the glasses and pulls them off of his face. His head is lowered, facing his lap more than Aziraphale as if working up the courage to look at the angel in his eyes.
“I do adore your eyes, dear.” He’s being honest and his honesty is rewarded with a glance, a glimmer of the golden eyes that he loves.
“I’ve grown to love them by seeing the way you love me.” It’s an honest and sentimental reply that has Aziraphale’s heart clenching in his chest and his wings ruffling where they aren’t on his back. “The first thing I saw, when given my new eyes, was the way that the sunset looked from Earth. The second thing I saw–was you, beautiful you in the garden called Eden.”
Aziraphale tries not to react, but can feel the sting of tears in his eyes.
Crowley continues. “You were on the Wall, watching Adam and Eve walk away from the garden and I was the wiley old snake that tempted her.” There is a somber tone to his comment about temptation, but Crowley moves on before the emotions can linger. “Your hair shone in the sun in the same way my star had and I knew I wanted to know you, because even though Eden had scarred me centuries before, she brought me to you.”
And then Crowley looks up, and Aziraphale sees the scars that he had mentioned moments before. They fan out around his eyes, little lightning bolts of white skin that Aziraphale has never noticed before because of his loves golden eyes.
Aziraphale reaches out, hand crossing the small expanse of space between the two faces and brushing a delicate touch around either eye. Crowley does not move throughout the touch and it is only after Aziraphale lowers his hand does the demon sniff and pout and his usual attempt at crying.
“Treasure,” Aziraphale waits for Crowley to look him in the eyes before continuing. “I’m very much in love with you.” And his words are met with another sniffle and pout and a Crowley clenching at his hand in the center of the table.
Crowley smiles and the look stretches the scars that decorate the skin around his eyes, pulling them taunt and into his smile lines. When he speaks again, it is a little more confident.
“I think I loved you from the moment I saw you on the wall, but I would have never admitted to it.” He sips his wine instead of looking back at Aziraphale, “You stood so proudly with your wings tall and pointed towards Heaven, ever the prim and proper angel.”
Aziraphale isn’t so sure how to reply to his admittance, his hand brushes against the scar on Crowley’s palm.
“I almost didn’t approach, out of fear you’d turn and run back to Her and Heaven and I was still snake-like and villainous.” Crowley hisses out the ‘s.’ “But then you turned and smiled at me and nothing else mattered. Not Eden and her scars, or Heaven and my falling, not even the apple. It was just you and me on the wall at the beginning of all of this.”
Crowley motions to the restaurant around them.
“And so I think I loved you, from the moment I first saw you.”
It’s Aziraphale’s turn to smile and sniffle and wipe at tears still forming on the corners of his eyes.
“It was love at first sight, at least for me.” Crowley’s eyes are back on him, watching and looking for some sort of clue for him to stop. Aziraphale nods and waits for the story to continue. “And then every century that passed made the love stronger, you learned how to be human and I learned how to be loved, even if it wasn’t a romantic kind of love at first.”
Crowley is fiddling with something under the table.
“I know that–that you are an angel and I am a demon, but we’ve been us for a lot longer than we ever belonged to either side.” Crowley is sniffing again, cheeks pink and golden eyes shining in the candle-light. “I–”
He pauses, the words suddenly difficult.
Aziraphale watches closely as the hand from under the table appears and sets something beside their joined hands.
“I love you, more than every star I’ve ever made.” And suddenly Aziraphale realizes exactly what this is and the tears begin anew on his cheeks.
“I want to spend eternity with you, here, with Adam and the Them and maybe another kid–”
“A girl.” Aziraphale smiles, tears on his cheeks. “We can call her Eden.”
Crowley nods and sniffs, “Eternity with you, and our daughter Eden and maybe another along the way.”
It’s quiet for a moment.
Aziraphale smiles, “You haven’t asked yet, my heart.”
“Will you, Aziraphale, marry me, the wiley old serpent from Eden?” It’s accompanied with the brightest smile and hopeful eyes.
“Of course I will.” His eyes are drawn to the ring in its box, a dark metal embedded with golden and blue stones. “They–” Aziraphale looks up at Crowley, eyes fresh with tears for all the best reasons, “They’re our eyes .”
And Crowley is nodding, a prideful look in his eyes and he stands and kneels beside Aziraphale. He removes the ring from the box and slides it onto the proper finger.
“It’s very human of us to have a ring.” Aziraphale says it with a smile, admiring the way his hand with its ring looks wrapped in Crowley’s hand.
“It is.”
They’ll carve their own spot in the world.
A place just for them.
Angel and scarred demon and a human child called Eden.
Love, for the rest of eternity.