Take These Broken Wings And Learn To Fly

Chapter Ten

I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

I did not vanish from the face of this Earth, this chapter has simply been an absolute pain in my ass, but I finally got something together. This is really just a bunch of silly hurt/comfort fluff because I had A LOT of things I needed them to say before we get to the next bit.

Have at it, folks. If you're still here, just know I'm so grateful for you! Come scream at me in the comments :)

~oOo~oOo~oOo~

Crowley sighs, breathing in deeply.

His nose is buried in soft white locks, an even softer angel in his arms.

Crowley thinks he should probably feel different. His blood should probably be rushing, his heart pounding away, his thoughts running wild after the turbulent highs and lows the past few hours have put them through.

And yet, he doesn't feel any of that.

He's calm, calmer than he can remember being since Aziraphale left, or maybe ever.

His mind is blissfully empty, nothing but the wondrous comfort of holding his angel filling his body and quieting his conscience.

His angel.

A flash of euphoria zings through the demon at the thought.

His.

Finally.

He really has the right to call Aziraphale his angel now.

It feels unreal, but the soft hair tickling his nose and the warm arms encircling him safely speak even louder than his stunned disbelief.

I'm not going anywhere, Aziraphale has said, not unless you ask me to.

As if Crowley ever would. As if there had ever been a world where Crowley doesn't want to be with Aziraphale, at every time, in every universe.

I love you more than words can say, Aziraphale has said.

And Crowley believes him. He's almost taken aback by his own readiness to trust the angel's words, after millennia of doubt, and uncertainty, and nasty little voices in his head insisting that he isn't worthy.

Perhaps he's a fool to believe. Demons aren't made to believe, have been created by loss of faith in the first place, but Crowley seems to have missed that lesson in Hell Class.

When he thinks about it, it's not surprising at all, really. He's always been quick to jump and provide for Aziraphale's needs, anything the angel wants, and it seems to be no exception now that the angel proclaims it's Crowley he wants most.

Maybe he'll live to regret trusting so easily. But that's a problem for future Crowley to worry about. Present Crowley is far too preoccupied. His heart is full, and his body is wrapped around the one he loves, and - at least for now - Aziraphale is his.

"We're gonna have to move at some point", Aziraphale muses, speaking softly into the comfortable silence.

Crowley makes an unhappy noise, dropping his head against Aziraphale's shoulder, arms tightening around him. Even without looking, he knows the exact smile painted on the angel's lips.

"We've been here on the floor for a quite some time", Aziraphale points out, ignoring the muffled whine coming from the demon. He's right, of course, but moving sounds like such a horrendous idea right now. It will have to include letting go, walking somewhere without touching all over. Nah. Crowley prefers this.

"I'm quite happy right here, thank you." Crowley buries his face deeper in Aziraphale's shirt, mouth moving against the angel's shoulder as he speaks.

"As lovely as this is." The angel squeezes him a little tighter. "My knees are six thousand years old, dear boy. I'm afraid they aren't what they used to be."