His eyes.

That's all I can think about. Those sparkling, iridescent, ethereal blue eyes. His fluffy hair shone when his eyes sparkled. I can almost hear his wings, too... those fluffy, puffed- up gleaming white, purely angelic wings. The way his angel would crease up when he overthought- oops. His Angel. Can't think like that. Even after the Armageddon that Did Not Happen- Notmaggedon- they were still wrong. An Angel and a Demon? Never. Impossible. That could never work. But then again… those eyes…

Curly, soft hair lingered in the breeze a moment longer as the aesthetically soft man stood up, shaking the afternoon thoughts from his mind. The former bookshop owner smiled absent-mindedly as he glanced up at the sky, before turning back to his temporary roommate.

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary. The clouds are quite pretty, though"

"They reminded me of your hair, that's all" Crowley stood up too, his eyes lingering on Aziraphale as he wavered, yellow eyes focused on the shiny articles in question.

"I was just wondering if…"

"Hey, look, it's a bird! I think, yes, isn't that a Linnet? Those are mighty uncommon down here. Hmm, maybe it's a Robin Redbreast then. Oh, sorry dear, were you about to ask a question?" Aziraphale smiled, teeth gleaming in the afternoon light.

"I- no, it's fine."

The pair had been living together for nearly three weeks, ever since after Notmaggedon. Aziraphale had been living in his bookshop, which was now of course all burned away, and Crowley had offered to stay with him for a while in Tadfield, to keep an eye on things. Together. Crowley was so happy when he accepted, and even happier to discover that Aziraphale was almost as keen a gardener as him. Almost. They didn't have quite the same approach, as one might imagine, with the Angel's more delicate and caring attitude in contrast to the Demon's more, well, fear-invoking methods.

They had been next to each other, no longer sworn enemies, for so long now- and yet they were still further apart then Crowley had always longed for.

Hot.

Damned, for all of eternity, sure. But so hot. His Demon burned like the billion stars that he had helped create. His own, demonic stars. They blazed bright and fierce, engulfed in flames that would light the universe forever. He did that. He made that happen. He was wonderful, but if only he could make him see that.

That wicked grin, those serpentine eyes that smiled with the rest of his face. The way his limbs portrayed his confidence, his suave, unnerving, utterly beautiful, unwavering bravado.

The nervous, calm man admired the hot-headed demon. He could keep a cool head and get enraged all at once. He could smile and be pissed. He could simultaneously destroy those who had made him miserable whilst protecting what he believes in. Aziraphale's greatest wish was to become one of those things, something in which the untrusting man could safely place complete faith in.

Ahh, the pacing. Crowley had come to expect the pacing. It was one of the many quirks that endeared the slightly shorter man to him. The gentle mind set, the soft sigh as he considered some conundrum, the little things that could single-handedly distract the determined demon from any task, however important.

He sighed to watch him pace, echoing the other man. Sorrow filled him as much as compassion when he looked upon the haloed creature before him, as he knew that his feelings could never be reciprocated. Aziraphale could never love him back. He was too broken, too god-forsaken– literally. Crowley turned his head away. He loved that man- and that's why he had to go. He should leave. He can't stand this kind of pain, the fear, the longing, knowing that he would always feel this way. Being around that, constantly- he can't. He needs to move out of this house, back to his apartment in London. No; he couldn't go back there. Too many bad memories. He would find somewhere new, maybe settle down, invest or something. The one thing he knew for sure is that he needed to leave.

True happiness was slowly killing him.

That man. That ridiculous, impossible man. He had shattered his heart. He clearly didn't want to go, he clearly wanted to stay here, with him. Unfortunately, his stubbornness was his downfall. Aziraphale had told him that, after Crowley had announced his plan to leave Tadfeild. They had gotten into a tiff. No, not just a tiff- it was a row. A fight.

"I need to leave. I can't stay here"

"You don't have to leave, Crowley. You can stay right here, with me, as long as you like." Aziraphale had been rough, demanding, pleading. He regretted how desperate he sounded now- he had probably driven that impossible man away.

"I need to be alone. It's for the best." Crowley had looked down, averting his gaze. He didn't want the glorious man to see that he had been crying. He didn't want him to worry.

"Satan is not in charge of you anymore. You can do what you want! You don't have to be afraid of being caught, of hiding. You can stay!" Aziraphale had cried out maddeningly. The demon had never seen him like this, so angry, so protective.

"I know that. It is my choice, Angel. Let me do what I want" Crowley had let anger into his voice then, and detatchment, too. It hurt like hell. It drove Aziraphale to say things that he didn't mean, that he regretted, that he wished he could take back. It drove him to mistakes.

"You are ridiculous! You are selfish, inconsiderate, and so, so stubborn!" Aziraphale had cried out in frustration. His voice broke, as he guiltily attempted to apologize, moving his hand towards the other man as he did so.

"I'm sorry" He broke off as Crowley turned away. He pushed away his hand. Rejection.

"I'm gonna go pack. I'll be out of your hair by morning" Crowley walked off. Left him.

I considered going after him. Of course I did. I wanted to call after him so badly, but if he really felt that way… He wanted to leave. He hated him, of course he did. He was an angel. How could a Demon ever love him?

Fuck. I really left. Why did I do that?

Crowley's new apartment was cosy, but modern, and rather stylish. He had new plants, which were already receiving very rigorous treatment, and had everything the way it was before. No Angel who didn't trust him, never would. He should be happy. But he isn't. He is alone.

It's been three days. Too long. He shouldn't call- too late. He had dialled the number without thinking, because he couldn't stand that pain. He had to at least make sure that he was okay.

Aziraphale called. He just let it ring out. He was going to change his number, but just, just hadn't gotten around to it. That's all. Urgh, now he couldn't even convince himself. What a loser. No wonder someone like Aziraphale didn't like him.

I'm on a train. Oh, I shouldn't be doing this. I am just- just worried, that's all. Yes, worried. That man is going to get himself hurt, or do something foolish and attract the attention of those horrible demons. I have to check on him, see if he's settling in alright.

He sat on that dusty train, alone and miserable with wrecking nerves. Crowley didn't want him to come. He had always been a polite angel, smiling at everyone, saying his please's and thank-you's, and always, always respecting people's wishes. So why was he breaking that code now? Love drives people to do stupid things.

There was a knock at the door. Crowley opened it, and saw a worried Aziraphale standing before him. He should have closed it, should have slammed the door in his face, but instead his hand fell slack and refused to obey him.

"How did you find me?"

"Miracles. I traced your phone"

"I was going to get a new one, but I- "

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to go, and I lashed out. It isn't like me, I just…" Aziraphale was caught off guard as he felt warm hands, warmer than someone who is often a cold- blooded creature should be, wrap around him gently. They were unsure, unsteady, hesitant. Aziraphale quickly hugged him back. Red was growing over both of their faces, and Crowley smiled, burying his tear- studded cheeks into the man infront of him.

Crowley had always been the risk- taker. But for once, Aziraphale took the leap. If Crowley was unsure, then by the hair on his head would Aziraphale show him just how certain he was.

The immortal being thrust his head away from the other man, and, quickly so Crowley couldn't start doubting, he took the leap.

Crowley's lips were suddenly over the angel's as they melted together, one perfect puddle of comfort and warmth and togetherness. Aziraphale was kissing him. He suddenly remembered that he should be kissing back, and did just that.

The tilt of his head. The shorter man sighing gently against the taller one. The piercing blue gaze, held forever in the hot yellow one, binding and bound and so, so his. This is how it should be. Angel and Demon, together.