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Summary
Sometimes when Crowley looked at Aziraphale, it felt like the world was shifting on its axis.Sometimes the angel would smile in Crowley’s direction or run his fingers through the demon’s hair or kiss his cheek or something, and the world would tilt sideways, spinning around him like one of those godforsaken carnival rides, and leave Crowley dizzy and stumbling.Because Aziraphale loved him. Loved him. Like—really. Crowley. Him specifically, not the sort of holier-than-thou love for all living things bullshit that angels usually spouted.Aziraphale loved Crowley.Crowley knew because the angel had told him. Repeatedly. Daily, even, and often times even more than that.
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