Archive of Our Own ^beta

Crowley was not a writer.

Why the Heaven was he trying to write a love poem for Aziraphale?!

This was the worst idea he’d ever had.

But...if he could pull it off, he might make Aziraphale happy. And, Someone help him, he’d do anything to make his ridiculous angel happy.

Sighing, he looked at what he’d written so far: Aziraphale, my beautiful angel,

Poems were supposed to rhyme, right? What rhymed with angel?

He found a rhyming website on his phone and typed in “angel.” The suggested rhymes were “grange hill” and “archangel.”

“That’s the best you can come up with?” Crowley growled at his phone. “Pathetic!”

He miracled a new piece of paper into existence and started again.

My beautiful angel, Aziraphale,

Now what?

You make my heart set sail?

No.

You make me exhale?

No.

I’ll always rescue you from jail?

No. (But he would.)

What about: Aziraphale, you’re my best friend.

I will love you until the end.

The end of what?

Time?

The universe?

Aziraphale, you’re my best friend.

I’ll love you until the universe ends.

Crowley supposed that was romantic, but the universe had almost ended recently, and he didn’t want his poem to bring back bad memories.

He needed to try again. He needed to do better. Aziraphale deserved the best he could give him.

Aziraphale, I love you so much.

I want to be near you, I want your touch.

Hmmm. That wasn’t terrible.

I want to hold you in my arms.

I want to keep you safe from harm.

Forget Heaven and Hell—let’s run away!

I want to be with you every day.

My angel, my love, please come with me.

I’ll build us a cottage by the sea

And every day I’ll make you tea

And you’ll have your own library.

I know I’m just a foul demon,

but for millennia, I’ve been dreamin’

about a home and life with you.

Tell me, do you want that too?

Crowley stared at his paper in amazement.

He had really done it.

He’d written Aziraphale a poem!

But was it worthy of his angel?

It was not a literary masterpiece—obviously—but he’d put his heart on the page. Maybe that would be enough?

No.

No no no.

Aziraphale would think Crowley was going “too fast” again. He wasn’t ready for a declaration of love from a demon.

Crowley snapped his fingers, intending to banish his stupid poem to outer space.

But the poem never left London.

Someone sent it to Aziraphale’s desk instead. That same Someone gave the poem a golden glow so it wouldn’t get lost among the clutter.

Aziraphale discovered the glowing paper less than ten minutes later, and spent the next several hours reading it again and again.

The following day, Crowley drove to the bookshop. Aziraphale had called and asked him to come over right away.

His angel sounded nervous. What trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

Crowley sauntered into the shop and sat on a couch across from Aziraphale. “Alright. What’s the problem?”

“Problem? There’s no problem.” Aziraphale didn’t look at him. “I...I’ve been reading your poem over and over, and—”

“My poem?” Crowley cleared his throat. He fought the urge to panic. “I didn’t send you a poem.”

Aziraphale’s eyes met Crowley’s. The angel frowned. “I know your handwriting, Crowley.” He held up the paper. “If you didn’t write this, it’s a clever forgery. Oh dear. That means someone from one of our sides planned to deceive me. I’d hoped they’d leave us alone after our failed executions. Clearly that was foolish of me.”

Crowley sighed. He would have to fix this. “It’s not a forgery, angel. I did write that poem...but I thought I sent it into space.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was going ‘too fast’ again. I was...afraid. Of driving you away.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale held the demon’s hand. “I’m afraid too. Terrified, actually, that Heaven or Hell will try to destroy any home we make together. But the thought of sharing a home and a life with you...is a very pleasant thought indeed. Because I...I love you too.”

“Angel...” Crowley grinned. “Can I kiss you?”

Aziraphale returned his smile. “I wish you would.”

Crowley had seen plenty of humans kiss in television shows and movies. Aziraphale had read countless books that contained descriptions of kissing.

As they leaned towards each other, both had high expectations for their first kiss…

...and neither was disappointed.

In a lovely cottage by the sea—a cottage with an impossibly large library, a garden the neighbors envy, and a pond beloved by the local ducks—Aziraphale and Crowley spend peaceful days and passionate nights.

And on a wall in their bedroom, in a golden frame, is the poem that brought them together at last.