OwO

Robin_Kid

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"Do you remember?"

This is a question. You can tell from the question mark (?) at the end of the sentence. This is also a question that Aziraphale, an angel, never had the guts to ask Crowley, a demon.

Remember what, you ask? Maybe the time in 1723 when they had lunch, or perhaps in 1300 when Crowley had accidentally stubbed his toe on a piece of wood and cried for an hour in Aziraphale's arms. Or maybe he was asking about Armeggedon, and how they sort of (but not really) helped to stop it.

None of these are right. He's scared to ask if Crowley remembers the time they shared when they both were angels. Before crowley fell, of course, one of Aziraphale's favorite times of his life.

His name wasn't Crowley. It was Raphael, and he was an archangel, in love with a lower class. Aziraphale had tagged along on his journeys, of course never to create stars or galaxies, just in heaven.

He was there when earth was made. Aziraphale helped put plants down where they'd do best, and made new animals that might make good food. For humans.

There was water, and in that water were fish. Aziraphale loved fish, at one point Raphael had to miracle some away with how many Aziraphale had made in a single pond absentmindedly.

But then there was Lucifer. He rebelled. They fell.

"Well?" Aziraphale asked. "Do you?"

"No," Crowley said, looking down. "Sorry."

"That's impossible," He scoffed. "We always talked. All the time, dear."

"We didn't," Crowley laughed, leaning back. "I don't remember you at all before I fell."

"But... But we were inseparable," Aziraphale whined. "How about the time I fell into the tar pit, because I didn't know what it was? Don't you remember pulling me out? Washing my wings?"

"You're teasing," He said dryly.

"No! I'm not, Crowley," said the other, crossing his arms.

They glared at eachother, at a crossroads. The demon set his sun glasses down on his table before speaking. "I wasn't friends with you. I didn't know you."

"How would you know that if you can't remember any of it!?" Aziraphale asked, running a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't know! Can't you remember when you argued with Gabriel so you could have more time on earth? Just to be with me?"

"I wasn't anyone important," Crowley hissed. "Just a low level angel with a minimal work amount and no respect. Just like you."

"But I can remember," said the angel. "We used to watch the sunset every-"

"Stop playing with me, Aziraphale!" He snarled, standing up from his throne. "I don't understand why you're pushing this idea that I was someone important in your life! I can assure you I wasn't!"

Aziraphale could feel tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. He didn't want to cry. He hated crying, especially in front of Crowley. It made him feel weak. But he couldn't stop the tears anymore, and warm drops started to stream down his face, hitting his hand as he covered his mouth.

"Do you remember when I burned your wings?" He asked in a whisper.

It was sort of painful, the sudden rush of memory. Crowley stumbled backwards, grabbing his head and gasping for breath (even if he didn't need it). Aziraphale looked up, worried. The demon was sitting on the floor, covering his ears with his hands and trying to hide his face.

White feathers danced in the air as Aziraphale shot his wings out of his back and curled them around Crowley. What had he done? Was this even possible?

After a minute or two, Crowley looked up, his glasses half off his face. His cheeks were wet with tears like the angel in front of him, and he couldn't seem to get any words out.

"Y-You..." He said, his forked tongue flicking jn and out several times. He was losing focus on his appearance. "Made me fall?"

"I'm sorry, Crowley."

"How?"

"I don't think that's important, re-"

"How?" Crowley interrupted, looking away.

"The flaming sword. I burned them to black, so you would fall," he said quietly, also looking away.

"...Why?" He asked.

"You rebelled," Aziraphale said.

"I know that," Crowley sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Why did you do it to me? Why not someone else?"

"I was given orders," he admitted. "Directly from Gabriel. Take the sword and burn Raphael to Hell. I'm sorry."

Crowley was silent.

"I can leave if you want me to," Aziraphale offered, starting to pull his wings away from Crowley.

"No," he mumbled, still looking down. "You don't have to leave. Unless you want to."

"Not really," said Aziraphale, smiling slightly.

"Isn't that just peachy," Crowley said, a hint of a smile. "I want to tell you something important."

"Hmm?"

"I forgive you."

Aziraphale felt another rush of tears coming on, and he lowered his head so he could release them. Crowley leaned in and hugged him tightly around the torso, keeping his face emotionless as best he could.

And they stayed like that for a time. Until they stopped crying.

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Okay thanks for reading I guess

Haha

Ha

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