Just someone who's wayy too obsessed with Supernatural!!

People who have watched the TV show know that Aziraphale makes all these micro expressions no matter what mood he’s in.

For example…

See what I mean?

Like, he’s constantly moving his eyes, lips, eyebrows, etc. Plus, he constantly turns his head in all sorts of directions. This makes him really expressive, so we can always read his expressions, and therefore usually his thoughts, like a book.

Even when he’s acting as Crowley, you can spot it…

Now here’s the interesting bit.

Crowley’s impression of Aziraphale is, of course, pretty much spot on. It would have to be if your lives were at stake and you’d known each other for 6,000 years.

But when Gabriel sentences him to death by hellfire, this is probably the second hint we get that Aziraphale isn’t Aziraphale (the first being ‘Crowley’ saying “tickety-boo”).

Remember this moment that officially cemented the fandom’s hatred of this bastard?

JUST LOOK AT CROWLEY!AZIRAPHALE’S REACTION

If that had been the real Aziraphale, we would’ve been able to read every thought that crossed his mind: the hurt, the fear, the anger, the worry for Crowley, everything.

Instead we see Crowley!Aziraphale give Gabriel quite possibly the blankest, yet also the most chilling death stare I have ever seen. Coming from Aziraphale’s face, which is usually so open and kind and shows his feelings for the entire world to see, this is downright terrifying.

Now, Crowley probably remembers what it was really like in Heaven and he clearly doesn’t miss it at all. If Gabriel had said that to Crowley himself, it probably would’ve slid off him like water off a duck’s back. After all, he’s heard far worse in Hell from the other demons. Plus, he’s probably listened to Aziraphale on the (most likely) rare occasions he’s bitched about Heaven, so that explains why he doesn’t seem shocked at the angels’ treatment of Aziraphale.

But he’s finally seeing it for himself. These angels, who are supposed to be all about kindness and forgiveness, are completely happy with not only sentencing his husband best friend to death, without so much as a trial, but clearly expecting him to just step into the hellfire willingly, like it’s Aziraphale’s sacred duty as an angel, even after insulting and demeaning him.

I imagine this is the only way Crowley can snarl at Gabriel, “If I had the chance, I would tear you limb from limb,” without exposing him and Aziraphale both.

Sadly, since Crowley has to be as convincing as possible, he obviously can’t do anything that Aziraphale wouldn’t do, and that includes doing or saying anything back to Gabriel. So he has no choice but to stick with giving him this look of barely concealed, utter loathing. Because how dare they treat his angel - his kind, forgiving, beautiful angel, with his ridiculous tartan bow ties and shitty ‘magic tricks’, who only ever wanted the best for humanity and somehow still had stubborn, admirable faith in God, despite seeing firsthand how unnecessarily cruel Her plans could be - like that.

but no one is out here talking about how aziraphale has been giving that LOOK for thousands of years??

You’ll never say you love me, though; you can’t admit you care You won’t admit you love me like the drowning love the air You claim that I am nothing but the pride before the fall And maybe I have fallen, but I love you, after all

For I’m a devil; I can raise, then raze, than radiate I am a devil; I bleed black as ichor soaked in hate I am a devil; I deal in the secret side of pain Renunciation of salvation, dreamers down the drain.

And you’re an angel; you protect and guard all wondrous things You are an angel; you can rest the wide world on your wings You are an angel; you give the ineffable a voice You’re absolutes and absolution; I’m the thrill of choice.

Oh, lover, you are swords and crowns, crucifictitious tears, You’re covenants and convents and ecclesiastic years, Evangelist, avenger, Jonah in the wailing wall Pour plagues into the populace and kill the first sons, all

You want to say you love me like all demons love despair I want to say I love you like all angels love their prayer Oh lover, I’ll prostrate myself and never cut my hair, Oh lover, I have loved you since before the stars were there

【MAJOR GOTV SHOW SPOILERS】When you finally understand what an asshole boss your boyfriend has

Aziraphale: Stay.

Crowley: What the-

Aziraphale: *leaves*

Crowley: *tries to leave the circle to follow him but can’t*

Crowley: AngeL COME BACK THIS ISN’T FUNNY

‘you don’t have to-’

'no I’m gonna’

”You go too fast for me, Crowley”

Aziraphale had once spoken Crowley, and every day since the words echoed in his mind.

Well, not quite an echo, more so a thundering reverberation rattling the mortal skull of the poor soul he possessed. An advanced echo if you will. It was always there.

They’d become a constant. Crowley and Aziraphale, always near one another.

Too fast? Too fast for him? The angel had been the one asking Crowley to crepes and lunches for near five thousand years and he had the audacity to claim that Crowley moves too fast?!

Annoying, really, but that’s what he was. Aziraphale was annoying. Always had been and always would be, at least, that’s what Crowley told himself to quench the burning hunger of- well- it didn’t matter.

However, he couldn’t quite figure out which was more annoying. The angel’s absence, or his presence? He’d grown used to Aziraphale’s antics. His predictability. His halo being in the way of anything they could have, ever. In the six thousand years they’d been friends, never once had he put his image of being ’the nice one’ aside without complaint. It was always a last resort- being Crowley usually did everything. The dirty work and what not. Never fret, he never minded the dirty work, but he did have better things to do such as wooing said angel. Or he did until the bloody bastard said he move too fast for him.

What did that even mean?

Too fast?

It had been six thousand fucking years. Six thousand years of flirting, wooing, courting, and defying everything Crowley was reprogramed to do all for this white-winged, halo bearing, heaven-sent-hell in the body of a platinum-haired Englishmen.

He thought about it every day. Every time Aziraphale leaned toward him on the bench at St. James’s Park. Every time he reminded Crowley that he ‘couldn’t do such a thing’ because the Angels are supposedly the good guys. Every time he gave Crowley that look. It was a specific look reserved only for Crowley as though Aziraphale held unspoken sentiments he desired to share, but knowing his place it best they be left unsaid.

And Crowley was livid. His blood boiled at the thought of Aziraphale thinking any less of him, as it were, he did move a bit fast. At least, in perspective, it was a slow burn for Crowley, but that didn’t mean it was the same for the angel. His angel. Therefore Crowley resigned at the thought that he would potentially have to wait another six thousand years before Aziraphale would be ready for even a minuscule bit of what Crowley desired.

Much to his surprise, the wait wasn’t nearly that long. After a particularly scorching August afternoon, and a long summer of saving the world, the duo had retired to the bookshop where they indulged, or better, over indulged in the alcoholic refreshments provided by the angel.

”you know, Crowley, ” Aziraphale had started after a particularly long swig from a bottle. ”I’ve been thinking about me and you, ” Crowley peered at Aziraphale from over his glasses,

”or rather…Us.” there had never, in the time Crowley had known his angel, been an Us nor a We not even so much as an Our. It was always You and Me.

”Us? There is no us, ” Crowley dared counter.

“I- well- what if there was an Us?” Aziraphale stammered. He was taken aback by Crowley’s response and rightly so.

“You want naught for there to be an Us, Angel. You made that clear already,” Crowley spoke willing himself to sober up, “don’t sacrifice more than you already have for me,” Crowley was honest. A rare habit he reserved for Aziraphale. Only ever Aziraphale.

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation, Crowley. Will you not listen to what I have to say?” Crowley let out a sigh,

“I’ll listen,” Aziraphale sat up straighter looking Crowley directly in the eyes.

“I’ve quite enjoyed our Arrangement and the time we’ve shared over the centuries, you know. You- you do know that, yes?”

Crowly shrugged removing his sunglasses, “it’s news to me, angel.”

“Yes, well, it was implied,”

“Was it really?”

“I thought so!” Aziraphale exclaimed. It had been implied, but that didn’t mean Crowley didn’t want to ruffle his angel’s feathers a bit. It was fun seeing Aziraphale all flustered and it showed Crowley just how much he truly cared.

“Well, I like your company. Over time you’ve become something I can’t very well see myself without. Like, like the last puzzle piece!” Aziraphale paused, “you complete me,”

Crowley, gobsmacked, stared at Aziraphale for a long while. It was a rarity for him not to have some sort of snarky retort and this was one of those moments. His mind didn’t necessarily draw a blank as one might when faced with a confession they longed for. No, his mind was, in the most literal of senses, screaming. An AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH that didn’t stop until Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Er, Crowley?”

“Yes?” The screaming silenced and Crowley’s full attention was returned to Aziraphale.

“I- I’m sorry if that was too forward of me. I thought, well, with what happened earlier that it would be best for me to initiate whatever steps would need to be taken next to…elevate…our Arrangement. If that is, you’d like to.” Crowley couldn’t believe his ears. Elevate their Arrangement? To what level?

”what did you have in mind?” Crowley inquired.  Aziraphale blinked.

“By George, it hadn’t occurred to me that I might get this far.” Crowley let his head fall to the table inhaling deeply the scent of old and new books alike.  The two unique smells mixed to create, what Crowley referred to, as Medium Book Smell.  Nothing inventive, but it was just as distinct as Old Book smell and New Book smell.

“Hadn’t it?” his words muffled by the table he was kissing.

“No, it hadn’t.  Every time I thought of saying something, well, my palms would sweat and I’m not really a fan of that sensation.” Crowley looked up at Aziraphale.

“Angel, you…you’re a special one,” he admitted.  He was, but in this particular scenario being special wasn’t necessarily a good thing for Aziraphale to be.  

“I beg your pardon!”

“Pardon denied.  May I?” Crowley held out his hand indicating to Aziraphale he wished for his.  Aziraphale stared at Crowley’s hand with wide eyes as he slowly placed his hand on Crowley’s.  Crowley intertwined their fingers all while letting out a soft hum.  Aziraphale’s hands were exactly as he expected.  Soft, not a callous on them.  

“You complete me,” Crowley spoke softly both repeating and confirming what Aziraphale had said.  He pulled Aziraphale’s hand to his lips placing a kiss gingerly on the back of his hand.  A shy smile graced Aziraphale’s face as he nodded.  A silent understanding passed between them and they agreed to discuss it at a later date.  Today they would relish in one another’s company enjoying their wine and confessions.  Crowley was content knowing his angel returned his affections and knowing this he could wait another six thousand years for him if he had to.  Aziraphale, little did he know it, was the missing piece of the puzzle Crowley.