My Dearest Warlock

Aziraphale and the Dream

Crowley had come in at some point and covered him up. No longer was it the same day, if the tiny date on the alarm clock meant anything. It meant that Crowley had cared for the child all alone, and Crowley shouldn't have had to do that all alone.

The door was pulled open, and Aziraphale tried his hardest to ignore the squeaking noise that was released. Crowley was in the doorway, smiling at him. Aziraphale tried his hardest to smile back at the demon.

Crowley was wearing a leather jacket over a dress. It was a very simple dress, Aziraphale thought. Crowley was one for dramatics and flair, and the dress really didn't have any of that. The dress was simple fitting, although it did slim near the hips- Aziraphale suspected that was where it skimmed given Crowley's practically nonexistent hip bones. After that, the rest of the dress clung tightly to her legs and knees.

"That's... different." At seeing Crowley's look, Aziraphale continued to blabber onward. "I mean, for you. It's different for you. You're still very lovely. All jolly good and dandy. Very jolly good and dandy. Dandy and good."

Crowley's lips curled into a smirk. "That loud one was screaming about immodest dressing being the end of the world. He's loud, and I'm just not today. Besides, I think seeing you all... flustered and worked up does great things to me. And, I'm taking Warlock for ice cream, and we're going to meet up with Anathema. Would you like to come?"

"No," said Aziraphale. He realized, suddenly, that he was a fool. Crowley had power over him, and she knew it. He hated that she knew it, and Aziraphale realized he needed to regain control of the situation. If she knew what she was doing, she would have Hell praising her for the corruption of an angel.

No, no, no. Crowley would never do that. Crowley wasn't cruel like that, nor did he think that she would wait more than six thousand years to finally begin corrupting his soul. Hell wouldn't give her such a relaxed deadline- eleven years was the limit, apparently.

He realized he was telling himself what he wanted to hear. He wanted to believe that she could love him and that she would never betray him. He believed himself to suddenly be unable to use his judgement and see what was good and bad. He believed that- in this moment and this moment alone- he wouldn't be able to see three thousand red flags if they were right in front of his face.

"Are you okay?" Crowley's face softened, and the smirk left her face. "You never say no to ice cream angel. Besides, Anathema said she has some big news."

"I'm jolly good," commented Aziraphale quietly. "I'm just... going to stay here and work on my collection of books. A couple of them were out of place."

"You could have said no to me much more simply angel," said Crowley. "You've done it before in less. Are you okay though, really? I know having Beelzebub here must have been a surprise, and I really didn't know she was coming. I would have said something."

"Demon, leave me alone." At Aziraphale's tone, Crowley stepped back. Azirapahle looked like he was equally as surprised. "I... I don't know where that came from. Crowley, I didn't mean anything bad."

Crowley gave him a small smile, like she also knew this. "I know, you clueless angel. But I am going without you for ice cream. Be nice when we get back."

She was just so great. Would it be bad of Aziraphale to get out of bed and kiss her? He never even told her he loved her, and he was stupid not to. He'd felt like she was truly special since the book rescue in Germany, and he realized that she had been special long before that. She had been special in Eden, and he wondered if God knew that he thought she was special.

Crowley pulled the door closed behind her before Aziraphale could get out any other words.

~

Aziraphale had never realized the appeal of sleeping. It was just so easy and there and ready. It was a time to be away from everything and everyone. Crowley's one hundred year nap made much more sense now, Aziraphale realized. It was about comfort and peace, and Aziraphale wondered if that was how Crowley had felt. Did Crowley do it for the almost therapeutic feeling?