Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

Chapter 6

And Aziraphale did, indeed, pop over.

Merely seconds later, Crowley heard a quiet knock from outside the door to his flat.

He got up to go answer it, not even bothering to look in the mirror, fully aware of what he would find. He knew he was a blotchy red mess. But Aziraphale was here. His presence would surely help him feel in 'tip-top' shape again, as the angel would say.

"Oh," escaped Aziraphale's lips when Crowley swung open the door. A little sound; partly surprise, but mostly confirmation of what he had already assumed. He quickly recovered from this though, continuing with, "Hello, my love! May I..." Crowley stepped away from the doorway.

Aziraphale walked into the flat slightly hesitantly, gripping a book to his chest- wait. "A book? I thought you were popping over for a second, Aziraphale," Crowley said, referring to what the angel had claimed on the phone.

"Ah, well, yes," he chuckled nervously. "Er..." he cleared his throat before continuing, "I daresay one can never be too prepared, hm? We learned that the hard way," the angel gave Crowley a soft, yet slightly anxious-looking smile.

"We certainly did," he agreed, heading to plop down on the sofa.

Aziraphale followed after him, sitting down carefully so he didn't invade Crowley's personal space. He didn't know what was happening with the demon, and sometimes, like when he was having a sensory overload, he did not want to be touched.

Apparently that was not the case this time. Crowley scooted over to wrap himself around the angel and bury his face in his shoulder. Aziraphale reached around with his other arm to caress Crowley's head of flaming red hair and give the locks a loving kiss.

They stayed curled up together on the couch for about ten minutes with Aziraphale gently running his fingers through Crowley's hair before the angel casually asked "Did something happen?"

"Got the mail," Crowley answered into his angel's chest.

"Did you receive some bad news?" Aziraphale asked worriedly.

The demon shook his head, his flame-like hair tickling the angel's neck. "Got your letter," he said softly.

Aziraphale stiffened. "Oh dear. Was it too much? I'm sorry," he said quickly, suddenly doubting many of his choices in life.

Crowley sat up to look at his love. "No, no, Aziraphale it was very sweet. I loved it, I just-" he stopped, feeling his throat constrict. He desperately wanted to tell Aziraphale that his tears weren't all out of sadness. In fact, most of them were happy tears because the letter was proof that Aziraphale really was in love with him and was willing to show him again and again.

"Was it a little hard to handle?" Aziraphale rubbed his back.

Crowley nodded before taking in a shuddering breath.

"Breathe," Aziraphale whispered. Crowley hadn't even realized he hadn't let the breath back out again. "It's okay to cry, my love," the angel said in the same quiet tone. The demon shook his head slightly, he didn't want to cry in front of Aziraphale. "I promise, It's alright, it's only me," he said very soothingly, continuing to run a hand up and down his spine.

This time Crowley let out a shaky breath, a few tears spilling out onto his already-red cheeks. Aziraphale gathered him up and held him close while he cried. Crowley felt safe. Safe enough to tell him. "There was a sentence," he whimpered. "Only one sentence, and I'm sure you didn't mean it i-in a bad way but it brought up some-" sniffle- "painful memories," he said, still trying not to start full-on sobbing in front of Aziraphale.