Chapter Text
Aziraphale had first thought Crowley’s fear was only centered around flying. So he had elaborated a plan to help him with that. He had created a new room in his flat upstairs entirely with this purpose in mind. Quite a few miracles had been needed, but he had managed to build a high room covered from floor to ceiling with the softest and plushiest material he had thought of. It was impossible to get hurt in here, even if someone was to fall – which Aziraphale would not let happen. Crowley would never fall again.
The plan was simple, really. Get Crowley to fly in this room, a little higher every time until he was comfortable enough to go outside. And when the blond had presented the room to the demon, Crowley had liked it. Aziraphale had felt full of joy and confidence at his reaction, and, eager to start the ‘flying therapy’, he had shaken his wings out of their ethereal plan.
But the thing was, the demon was not in fact only afraid of flying, but of everything related to wings, really.
“What are you doin’?!” Crowley had gasped, taking several steps back with wide eyes. He had glanced warily at the white feathers while walking backwards until his back touched the wall.
Aziraphale had immediately hidden his wings and apologised profusely, and they had started over, with lots of patience and discussions.
***
Three weeks later, they were sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. They were facing each other, talking lightly about something random. The situation seemed innocent but even this simple thing would have been impossible a few weeks ago, because both of them had their wings out, black and white feathers calmly resting behind them.
Aziraphale was so proud of Crowley. In such a short amount of time, the demon had learned to be comfortable with Aziraphale taking his wings out, then with himself taking his majestic onyx-feathered wings out. Now, they could enjoy each other’s company while stretching their wings, and Aziraphale loved these moments. They were their moments. Moments during which they could forget about the world around them. They were alone in their little bubble of existence and they could be exactly who they wanted to be. They were safe, they were free, and nothing could harm them.
With a happy sigh, Aziraphale stretched his white wings a little more to the sides, enjoying the feeling of being himself. He saw Crowley’s eyes follow the movements, but nothing negative came into the yellow gaze. That made Aziraphale smile even more. Just a few days ago, being so close to moving feathers would have sent the demon in an anxious spiral of thoughts. But today, he carried on talking – and, a little ashamed, Aziraphale realised he was not quite sure what he was talking about – without a hint of a flinch.
The angel focused on the conversation again, moving his wings a little bit from time to time just for the pleasure of seeing Crowley in such a peaceful state.
A few moments later, a movement caught Aziraphale’s eyes. He was quite sure he had seen Crowley’s hand move. And sure enough, the same jerky gesture occurred another time not five minutes later. The demon didn’t seem to be aware of this, it was more likely an involuntary twitch or something.
After the fourth time it occurred, Aziraphale started to wonder if this gesture didn’t mean something more. Maybe Crowley wanted to do something he wasn’t sure he could. But the angel brushed the thought away. Crowley had always been quite twitchy, and sitting like that for so long was certainly harder for him than he showed. Maybe he should call it a day.
But the movement happened again, and this time it was followed by a lingering look towards his left wing, with so much tenderness in his serpentine eyes that it couldn’t be out of anxiousness. That’s when it hit him. Crowley wanted to touch his wings! A wide smile spread across the angel’s face while his heart started racing in his ribcage. Touch was a huge step in their journey, and he had to fight back a happy little squeal at the thought.
Crowley seemed to realise that the angel knew because he stopped talking and turned his head away, suddenly worrying his hands in his lap, his cheeks reddening. His black wings retracted just a little bit, as if searching to protect him from external threats. Even if in this scenario Aziraphale was the threat, the angel was very glad Crowley could consider his wings a means of protection. It was probably unconscious, but it was proof they were going in the right direction.
“You know, my dear,” Aziraphale began, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s. “You are allowed to ask me anything you want. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s okay to want things.”
Crowley’s only answer was a low grumble and some unsure glances at Aziraphale’s wings.
When he was certain Crowley would not respond, the angel asked softly, “Do you need time or help?” The demon struggled with expressing his feelings and wants. Sometimes, a little time was enough to help him but other times he needed Aziraphale to guide the conversation, to gently push him along the path of his finding words. When the angel couldn’t tell which option he preferred, he would simply ask. They had used this means of communication several times in the last few weeks.
Crowley whispered “Help, please.” Had Aziraphale been human, he would probably have missed the two barely-pronounced words, but luckily, Aziraphale was not human, and he knew his demon very well.
So the blond nodded and deliberately bent a wing toward Crowley – not too close, though, of course. “Please forgive me if I’m wrong, dear, but… You are interested in touching my feathers, right?” Aziraphale felt the demon’s hands starting trembling slightly, and he gave a gentle squeeze to try to comfort him. Crowley closed his eyes but did not answer the question. “I can see it’s difficult for you to talk, right now. You seem overwhelmed, is that correct?”
The demon nodded, his breathing slow but too deep to be normal. Aziraphale knew he was trying not to panic, and he was afraid of pushing him too far. Even though Crowley had asked for help through the conversation, Aziraphale wasn’t sure it was a good idea.
“Crowley, we don’t need to do anything more today. If you want to stop here, we absolutely can, I hope you know that.”
The demon seemed to wrestle with himself a little longer, but suddenly his wings disappeared and let a long breath out. Aziraphale followed suit and drew him into his arms. Crowley went immediately, burying his face in the angel’s neck, murmuring a broken “sorry”.
“You have nothing to apologise for.” Aziraphale whispered, gently caressing Crowley’s back and arms. “I’m so proud of you, my dear. I know you’re not happy with yourself right now. I know you think this was not enough. But that’s not true. You are so brave, my love. I’m in awe of you. You take each step with more courage, you never stop going forward. We will get there eventually, but we have all the time in the world.” He was gently rocking the two of them back and forth.
Crowley remained silent but closed his eyes and allowed himself to completely relax in Aziraphale’s arms.
***
The next morning, Aziraphale was sipping his tea in the kitchen, waiting for Crowley to wake up, when the demon suddenly burst into the room and grabbed the angel’s hand to drag him towards the flying room.
Aziraphale was more than surprised by this behaviour. In their weeks of “therapy”, he had never seen Crowley so enhusiast, and after that tense conversation the day before, he didn’t expect him to be so… eager.
The demon opened the door, led Aziraphale in the center of the room and urged him to sit down. The angel obeyed, paying attention to Crowley’s facial expression. He looked focused, and a bit nervous, but mainly he seemed determined. Aziraphale has come to love this particular expression these last weeks, because it always meant the demon was ready to take a new step forward.
“Alright, get them out.” Crowley asked, sitting down behind the angel.
“Are you sure about this, dear?” Aziraphale insisted nonetheless, turning back a little to look at his demon. He could see that he was sure, but he would prefer to have verbal reassurance.
“I am.” Crowley declared with a firm nod.
“Okay.” With that, Aziraphale looked ahead again, unfurled his pristine wings, and spread them wide, careful not to move them too much or too close to the demon.
He heard Crowley’s little gasp, and almost turned again to check if his love was doing okay, but then he felt it. A tentative little brush on his right wing, in his scapular feathers. His heart started beating so fast he was a little afraid it might explode.
When another caress came, just a touch firmer, he barely refrained a relieved and joyful chuckle. This moment felt so important and special. Something about it almost felt like a dream – although Aziraphale did not really know what dreams felt like.
After a few seconds of enjoying the demon’s touch, Aziraphale turned his head to smile at Crowley, but he froze when he saw the demon’s face.
“Crowley, dear, why are you crying?” he asked, concern spreading in his body like icy water.
“I’m not…” Crowley started, his brows furrowing, obviously perplexed, then he brought a hand to his cheek and discovered his tears. With wide eyes, he whispered, “What the fuck?”
As fast as it had come, concern left Aziraphale’s body as he understood the situation, leaving an enamoured expression on his face. “Are these happy tears?”
“Wha-?”
At this moment, Aziraphale couldn’t find anything cuter than his demon. His wide eyes, his sheer surprise over the tears that were still making his eyes shine, his reddened cheeks, but most importantly his mouth slowly curving as he seemed to finally understand that he liked what he was doing before.
“Are you happy to touch my wings?” Aziraphale provided to help him reach this wonderful conclusion.
The demon froze for a few seconds, but then he flashed a brillant smile and petted the white feathers again. “Yeah… I am.”
This time, Aziraphale did let his joyful chuckle out. “Oh, my love, I’m so happy that you’re happy.”
The angel found himself unable to look away from Crowley. The demon looked like a child discovering the joys of petting a dog. In some ways, he was absolutely terrible at petting his wings, his clumsy fingers sometimes pulling too hard on a feather, making the angel wince a little. But Aziraphale could not care less. The pure and complete joy radiating from his love was so beautiful to watch that he could easily ignore a little pain.
***
After this, their daily time in the flying room changed a bit. They discovered that Crowley could very well spend literal hours touching and caressing Aziraphale’s wings, then later they discovered that Crowley could very well let Aziraphale spend literal hours touching and caressing his wings. That step had been more of a challenge to reach, but as always, they had used patience and extraordinarily amounts of love.
Then one day, as Aziraphale was lying on his belly, propped up on his elbows with a magnificent black wing spread in front of him, and Crowley was lying next to him on his back, reaching up to pet the angel’s feathers, the demon asked softly, “Could you… Could you show me how you fly?”