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Winter had come.
And for young birdfolk like Crowley who had just reached maturity, that meant that it was time to leave the home nest, spread his wings and find his own territory; a new place to call home.
On great, black feathered wings, Crowley had set off with the sunrise that morning, taking a final lap of his parents’ territory, he’d headed north, and then adjusted west a little. Fortunately during the winter season other birdfolk guarded their territories warily, making obvious signs that could be seen from the sky that their patch of land and sky was taken, encouraging young ones to move along. Some more feisty youngsters would challenge older birdfolk for their territories, but Crowley wasn’t interested in fighting, he just wanted his own small, simple place in the world with enough supplies to live comfortably, and maybe one day build a nest with someone if he fancied, but that was for his future self to worry about, probably when he was a bit older, not fresh out of home nest.
Unfortunately, it seemed that every habitable area that Crowley flew over was already taken. He took a few breaks during the day, catching a snack, gulping down some water, and resting his wings, which were unused to making such a long journey. He’d had to do so outside of anyone’s territory, and that was fine, it wasn’t like those areas were awful, okay some of them were, but not all of them, it was just that they weren’t right for someone like him. Not all birdfolk kept similar territories, and Crowley wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he did know what he wasn’t looking for. His parents had advised that he would know what he wanted when he found it, Crowley was sceptical, but not entirely faithless.
In the late afternoon, darkness approached quickly and literally in the form of thick, heavy clouds, blotting out the sunset on the horizon, and chilling the air. If there was one thing that Crowley knew about clouds like that, it was to never fly near them. With the rapidly fading light, he would have to set down for the night and try to find shelter anyway.
The first snowflake landed on the tip of Crowley’s nose as his scaly, clawed bird feet touched the ground, he ruffled his black wing feathers and folded them away behind his back for the evening. Birdfolk were minimalists, able to carry all their possessions on them to fly away with if necessary, and Crowley was no different, dressed in a simple sleeveless vest, and half leg pants, with a few pouches attached to the fastening strings, and a sentimental necklace around his neck. Usually the red and black feathers that covered most of his body would be enough to keep him warm under the clothing, but the temperature continued to plummet, and the chill was already sneaking in between his feathers.
Hugging himself loosely, Crowley took in his surroundings, behind him were the empty fields that he’d just flown across, and ahead of him was a large expanse of woodland. From the sky he’d been unable to see past the woods, only spying variously coloured foliage and pockets of empty branches all the way to the horizon. There would be no shelter out in the fields, he’d be exposed to everything from the weather to predators, so that was definitely out of the question, but that only left the woods.
As the snow really started to fall, coming down like soft, white rain, Crowley dashed to the tree line, seeking the shelter of the broad, thick canopy. Shaking the snow from his mottled black and red head feathers, Crowley carefully wandered in a little further. It was significantly darker among the trees than it was out in the open, and it was only growing more so as night settled in, bringing with it a sort of spookiness about the unknown wood, especially since he was all alone. Not a spooky fan, him, not at all, but it was better than being out in the open, so he would stay.
Staying at the edge of the woods wasn’t ideal though; too drafty, too open, so Crowley ventured between the tree trunks, across leaf litter, around burrows, and over tree roots. The snow continued to fall heavy from the heavens, quickly coating leafless branches to pile at the base of the trunks and nooks of larger branches, meanwhile filtering down slowly from the thick sections of canopy. Crowley tried to stay out of the snow as much as possible, but it was quickly coating the ground, and the darkness was heavy, there was nothing but shadows at every turn, the unknown leading into the unknown.
It was slow going, trying to find somewhere that looked even remotely warmer and safer than the rest of the wood, especially since he could hardly see anything in the dark, his slitted, yellow eyes were not suited for the severe lack of light. On and on the darkness went, and Crowley grew weary after his long journey, but his nerves kept him going, the fear of what might be lurking around any tree trunk started to really ruffle his feathers, making him even more jumpy than normal. The rustle of a bush, or the crack of a twig put extra pep in his step as he drew his wings in tighter to his body, where he was hurrying to, he had no clue, but it was away from the spooky noises behind him at least. Eventually though, he reached the end of his tether when two tiny yellow lights appeared to swim between the trees, casting terrifying, moving shadows across the woods, followed by heavy, crisp footsteps as someone or something drew closer.
With a sudden great flap of his wings, Crowley jumped up into the nearest tree, shaking slightly as he sunk his claws into the bark and tried to blend into the shadow of the thick branch. Moments later the two bright orbs of light slipped between the trees, and to Crowley’s surprise, an antlered figure in long pale clothing and a gold hooded cloak stepped out. From what Crowley could tell, the being held two light sources on a long staff, he wondered if the being were friend or foe. Always a curious creature, Crowley shifted a little to get a better look, but the movement shook the broad leaves toward the end of the branch, and a pile of snow fell directly onto the being below.
“Oh! Goodness!” the being cried in shock, shuddering and shaking their head and shoulders to dislodge the freezing cold snow. Staying stone still, Crowley didn’t respond, uncertain of what to make of the antlered being, though he likely stood out in the light with his vibrant plumage, meaning that he was sure to be spotted. Once the being was satisfied that the snow was gone, the antlers tilted backwards and big blue eyes looked directly up at Crowley, “Oh,” the being said again, “hello there,” they greeted warmly.
Again, Crowley didn’t respond, didn’t even blink.
“Don’t worry, my dear, I’m no threat to you,” the being assured him in a soothing voice, “are you alright? Do you need help?”
That caught Crowley off guard, so much so that he actually croaked out an answer, “Yes, no, maybe…?”
“Are you lost?” they asked.
“Um…” Crowley glanced about at the unfamiliar woods and then nodded.
“I see, well that’s okay, I have an extra lamp, why don’t you come down here and I’ll help you find your way, hm?” the being offered, a gentle sincerity about them.
Chewing his lip, Crowley gazed down, trying to get a better look of the being without the lamplight drowning out his features, but it was difficult to make out much. Something gave him the notion that he could trust the being though, perhaps his sweet, gentle voice, or calm, patient presence, and so Crowley dislodged himself from the branch and jumped down, using his wings to ease his landing.
“Gosh, such beautiful feathers you have, my dear,” the being seemed somewhat awed, as if they’d never seen birdfolk before, perhaps they hadn’t, Crowley wasn’t certain what kind of creature the being was either. “My name is Aziraphale, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”
“Er, Crowley, my name is Crowley,” he replied, staring at Aziraphale’s antlers; they were a lot bigger up close.
“I know the antlers are big and daunting, but I assure you, they are merely decorative among male fauns, although some do like to compare sizes, I couldn’t give a toss about that though,” Aziraphale clicked his tongue, “I have much more interesting things to be doing with my time, like reading and creating delicious recipes.”
Ah, that explained it, Crowley had heard of fauns in stories, but his experience of the world and the beings in it was extremely limited.
“But here I am rambling on about myself when you’re clearly lost and scared,” the faun shook his head at himself, “how can I help you, Crowley? Do you live near here? I can’t say I’ve ever seen any of your kind in these woods.”
“Um, I-I don’t live anywhere now, it was time for me to leave my home nest, so I am out searching for a place to make my own home nest, but right now I just need somewhere to take shelter for the night out of the cold and the snow,” he glanced about, past the shadows, into the dark, “somewhere not so spooky.”
“Hm,” it was a sympathetic sound, “yes, you certainly need to get warm, you must be freezing, you poor thing, and hungry. Why don’t you come home with me for the night, I live not too far from here, it is sheltered from the cold and snow, I have warm blankets and a hearth to make a fire, and ingredients in my bag to make us some nourishing soup,” Aziraphale offered generously, “you will be safe there, I promise.”
It seemed too good to be true, that this kind stranger would just help him out of the goodness of his heart, but Aziraphale hadn’t given him any reason to mistrust him, and he didn’t get any of sense of unease from him like he did with some folk. His intuition was usually pretty trustworthy, so Crowley only hesitated a moment longer and then nodded his head.
“Really? I mean, if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to put you out…but I would truly appreciate it,” he replied, trying not to seem too eager in case Aziraphale wanted to rescind the offer.
“Not at all, my dear, I’d be happy for the company and conversation,” Aziraphale smiled, and it lit up his face brighter than the lamplight, “it can be quite lonely out here on the edge of the woods sometimes.”
“Are there not any other fauns around?” Crowley inquired, watching as Aziraphale unhooked the larger of the two lanterns from his staff.
“Oh, there are, but the majority live deeper in the woods, and the ones around here aren’t really my kind of faun, so it’s always nice to make a new friend,” the faun handed Crowley the lantern, who was a little slow to take it, distracted by the fact that Aziraphale had called him a friend; he’d never had many of those. “Here you are, my dear, why don’t you hold onto this, help keep the darkness at arm’s length while we walk.”
“Th-thank you,” Crowley said, with a shy smile, “you’re really nice and kind.”
“The world could do with a little more kindness, and I like to help folks out where I can,” Aziraphale stated with a little shrug. “Let’s get moving now, shall we? This way…” he guided Crowley to start walking in the direction he’d been going before Crowley had accidentally dropped snow on his head, “and for the record, I think you’re rather nice and kind too.”
After a few spluttered consonants and a bit of unexpected blushing, Crowley had to make a few hurried steps to catch up with the faun. Once he was by the faun’s side, Crowley stuck by him, step after step, not wandering more than a few inches apart. It was safe to say that he was still jumpy and on edge, but the woods seemed a little less spooky next to Aziraphale, who’s calm, gentle nature kept Crowley calm too, even emboldened him just a little.
Or at least he thought so until a large shadow suddenly moved in his peripheral, and Crowley squawked, jumping closer to Aziraphale and grabbing for his hand for comfort like he used to with his older sister when he was a hatchling.
“It’s alright, dear, it was just an animal moving on, nothing to fear,” Aziraphale assured him gently, while softly squeezing his hands, “I’m right here.”
It was only then that Crowley realised what he’d done, “Uhm, sorry…didn’t mean to…” he explained shyly, cheeks blazing despite the cold, and made to let go of Aziraphale’s hand.
“You can hold my hand if you wish to, Crowley, if it gives you some comfort to,” Aziraphale let him know, “or…if you just want to.”
“Okay,” Crowley nodded quietly, not looking directly at Aziraphale, and definitely not letting go of his hand, “thank you.”
“Quite alright.”
“M-my older sister used to hold my hand when I was scared, she found a mate two winters ago, his territory is far away. I miss her a lot,” he explained as they continued on.
“I’m sorry, Crowley, it’s hard to lose the ones we care about,” Aziraphale acknowledged, squeezing his hand comfortingly.
“S’okay…it’s life for us birdfolk, I just hope she’s happy, and she thinks about me too,” if he had a free hand, he’d touch the pendent on his necklace, but he had the lantern in one hand and Aziraphale’s soft, warm hand in the other, and he didn’t want to give up either of them, “the necklace I’m wearing was a gift from her before she left, I gave her something too, and we promised to never take them off.”
“Awh, that’s very sweet, I’m sure she misses you just as much,” Aziraphale commented, then shared some of his own story, “I was always the odd one in my family, and quite a lot younger than the rest of my siblings, I’ve never been close with any of them. They all thought I wouldn’t survive a week out this far on my own, but that was five springs ago now, so I guess I showed them.”
“I reckon you did,” Crowley agreed, feeling a little better now that they were engaging in proper conversation, and getting to know each other, it took his mind off the spooky darkness, and the way his clawed toes were starting to go numb in the snow.
Aziraphale preened a little, “Thank you, wait to you see my home, it’s very cosy, if I might say so, far nicer than anything my siblings ever thought to build, and filled with many wonderful things, like books!”
“I can’t wait to see it then,” Crowley encouraged, coaxing a little smile onto his own lips at seeing Aziraphale happy.
“It’s not far now, a few more minutes, then we can get you nice and warm,” he promised.
Aziraphale’s promise was true, a few minutes, and a little more getting to know each other, and the pair arrived at a larger structure than Crowley was expecting. It was quite different than he was expecting actually, from the outside at least. Constructed from woodland materials, Aziraphale’s home was twice his height, and encased the trunks of two medium sized trees within it’s structure, but that wasn’t the strange thing about it.
“Hello,” Aziraphale greeted the structure, “this is my new friend, Crowley, could you open up for us please?”
Now, Crowley may not have had much life experience, but he was certain that any sort of home, be it an enclosed shelter like that or a nest, could not and would not talk back, it was not alive. A moment later Crowley’s eyebrows nearly shot off his head as two large flanks of wood separated to allow passage. Jaw agape, he followed Aziraphale inside where it was already much warmer, and then proceeded to simply stare at the faun until he finished unfastening his cloak and hanging it up on something sticking out by the door.
It was then that Aziraphale noticed, and turned gracefully sheepish, “I suppose I should have mentioned that my home is enchanted…I met a witch a good while ago, I traded her some rare herbs, beeswax, and a few delicious meals for…well, this…” he spread his arms out, gesturing to his whole shelter, “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe. Probably safer than most places in fact.”
“Witches are real?”
“Indeed they are, stick around these woods long enough and you’ll meet all kinds of folk,” Aziraphale informed him, “I’d never met any of your kind before today, for instance.”
“I haven’t met a faun, or really anyone but other birdfolk, and old Ligur; the lizard person-er-reptilian, who lived down by the river in my parents’ territory,” Crowley explained, then he remembered, “oh wait, sometimes Ligur’s friend Hastur, who is a Frogman, would visit him, so him too.”
“I see,” Aziraphale smiled patiently, letting Crowley talk, “there is much to experience in the world,” he acknowledged, then held out a hand for the lantern that Crowley was holding, “let me take that for you, and I’ll get a fire going.”
Once he’d handed it over, Aziraphale slotted it into an empty place on a set of shelves, and then rested his staff near the door. It was too dark to make out much before the fire was lit, but once it was Crowley didn’t know where to look first. He spun in circles, trying to take everything in, the vast shelves of books scattered across the wall, along with other shelves lined with trinkets, teapots with teacups and saucers, bundles of dried plants, and pretty little boxes. On the floor sat crates of firewood, more books, a couple of pots for cooking, and other bits and pieces that there wasn’t space for on the walls. In front of the hearth was a cosy looking nest of blankets and pillows atop dried grasses, against the far wall was another more structured looking nest, with yet more books next to it. Giving the place an extra natural feel, apart from the bundles of drying herbs hanging from the roof, little sprigs of leaves sprung out from the walls and roof in random places, he wondered if they would flower in the spring.
“Wow, Aziraphale, this is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Crowley exclaimed, turning back to the faun “you have so many books and other interesting things.”
“Oh,” the faun blushed somewhat shyly, “thank you, my dear, I’m happy that you think so. I’m very content here, and I do so enjoy collecting things, feel free to read any of the books if they catch your eye.”
Now that the lamplight was out of his face, and Crowley could get a better look at him, Aziraphale was quite a handsome fellow, adorable with his pale features and rosy cheeks and nose tip. He’d never thought of anyone as handsome before, but Aziraphale had this sincere sweetness about him, an angelic glowing beauty that had nothing to do with the lamp or fire light, and it attracted Crowley as if he were a moth.
However, it was Crowley who turned timid then as he admitted, “I, um, I can’t read, not many birdfolk can, but thank you.”
The faun’s brow furrowed, “Ah,” he fully frowned, “that’s quite a travesty, my dear. I would be more than happy to read to you anytime, or even teach you to read if you like, if-if you wished to stick around that long, that is.”
“Erm, that’s…I mean, um,” Crowley stumbled over his words, taken aback by the continuous kindness and generosity of the faun, “I don’t know what I’m doing yet, but that’s incredibly kind of you, Aziraphale.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear, everyone should be able to enjoy a good story,” the faun dismissed, then gestured toward the closest nest of blankets, “why don’t you make yourself comfortable in front of the fire, and I’ll get a start on dinner.”
They chatted some more while Aziraphale prepared and cooked the soup, and Crowley defrosted underneath a blanket, learning about each other, and growing to like each other more and more in the process. Soup wasn’t something that Crowley had eaten many times, only when Ligur offered to share his own, which was rare, but the moment that Aziraphale put the bowl in his hands, the aroma hit his nose and his stomach grumbled in appreciation.
“Oh, this smells so good, thank you,” Crowley smiled, feeling more at ease and comfortable now that he was warm and resting, and in friendly company.
“You’re most welcome, dear, I hope it’s to your liking,” Aziraphale smiled, sitting down next to him on the blankets with his own bowl and a stick of bread, which he tore in half and handed one of the halves to Crowley, “careful though, it’s hot, not the bread though, I baked that this morning.”
Watching Aziraphale blow on the hot liquid then dip his bread in and take some nibbles, Crowley followed suit, and then took little sips from the edge of the bowl, feeling the heat travel through his whole body and warm him up from the inside, “Mmm! Wow, I really like this,” Crowley exclaimed, surprised and excited by just how much he enjoyed the soup.
“Oh, good,” Aziraphale gave a little wiggle, his hooves tapping the floor, which Crowley thought was rather adorable, he appeared chuffed by Crowley’s response to his cooking, and then again when Crowley proceeded to slurp down the rest of the bowl before lying back against the pillows, and patting his stomach, feeling full and content, and getting sleepy after his long day.
Because of his wings, Crowley couldn’t lie on his back very long, it spread his wings at odd angles, hurting his wing joints, but he was so at ease that he didn’t care at that moment. The empty bowl was easily taken from his slackened grasp as Aziraphale got up to dispose of his own, and he was graciously offered more of Aziraphale’s hospitality; tea, biscuits (also baked that morning), fruits, or nuts, all of which Crowley declined, too stuffed to eat anything else.
Instead, the faun brought him over a cup of water and sat it by the edge of the blankets, then he seemed to stare at Crowley’s wings, leading to Crowley raising an eyebrow at him, “What’s wrong?”
Aziraphale chewed his lip for a moment, fingers fidgeting with the string tied around his middle, “Pardon my saying so, my dear, but some of your feathers seem to be a bit, er, ruffled…askew perhaps is a better word.”
“Mm,” Crowley acknowledged, glancing over his shoulder and noting a few out of place, “was a long flight, not used to it, but ‘m too tired to groom them, have to do it in the morning before I go…if you don’t mind?”
“Oh, no, no, please stay as long as you like, there’s no need to rush off,” Aziraphale assured him, “it’s so nice having you here with me. Would…would you perhaps consider staying a few days, the woods are so beautiful in the daytime, you’ll see that it’s not scary at all, and who knows, you might find that you like it here,” he grew shy then, glancing away, “and it would be nice to have a friend…even for a short while.”
“Erm,” after everything else that Aziraphale had done for him, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was offered a place to stay a while too, and really there was no reason for him to decline, it wouldn’t hurt to suss out the place, see if he could make a home there, “you’ve already been so kind and generous, Aziraphale, are you sure it be alright?”
The faun’s blue eyes lit up with hope, and Crowley was reminded of how handsome he was, “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise, my dear.”
“Okay,” he nodded, shifting his wings as the joints started to smart a little, “I’ll give the woods a chance.”
“Oh wonderful!” Aziraphale gave an excited wiggle – damn, he was cute – but his eyes darted back to Crowley’s wings, “I’m sure you’re going to love it here…well, I hope you do.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Crowley commented with a little grunt as he moved his entire body so that he was on his side, facing Aziraphale instead of on his back, which took the pressure off of his wing joints.
“My dear, I hope this isn’t too forward, or taboo to ask, but…” he wet his lips anxiously, “would you allow me to groom your wings for you? They seem to be causing you some discomfort, and I’m sure it would help you sleep easier. I’d be happy to help if you’ll permit me.”
Trying to hide his blush at the thought of Aziraphale touching him so intimately, Crowley asked, “Do-do you know how to groom feathers?”
“Well, no,” the faun admitted, “but I’m a quick study, and good with my hands, I can see the pattern of how they’re supposed to sit, I’m sure I could work it out well enough for you, at least to sleep with tonight.”
Wing grooming wasn’t exactly a casual thing between birdfolk, but Crowley felt safe with Aziraphale, he had opened his home to Crowley, given him food, shelter, and warmth, he was trustworthy, and sweet, and patient. The decision to allow the faun to groom his wings probably shouldn’t have been made so lightly, Crowley’s parents would have frowned upon it, but they weren’t there, he was alone now…but Aziraphale was there, and he was caring and kind and generous.
“O-okay,” he accepted with a shy smile, “thank you, again.”
“It brings me joy to care for others, especially when they need it,” Aziraphale stated while he studied Crowley, “I think it would be best if you laid on your stomach…or would you prefer to sit up?”
“Gonna lay down,” Crowley told him, already shifting onto his stomach length ways across the blankets, a pillow under his head, arms cradling it.
“I’ll start at the top of your right wing when you’re ready, dear,” Aziraphale mentioned as he moved into place beside Crowley.
“I’m ready.”
Only his mother and sister had ever groomed his feathers, besides himself, and only when he was young, all that he remembered was that it was pleasant and soothing. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the faun’s touch, but Crowley had liked holding his hand earlier, found comfort and strength in it, so he was certain that it would be somewhat nice at least.
Soft fingers tenderly stroked over Crowley’s right wing joint in his back, tracing it upwards with the arched curve until he reached the peak. As Aziraphale gently ran his fingers downwards over the black feathers, Crowley shivered, and a tiny gasp left his mouth.
“Does it feel okay?” Aziraphale inquired attentively.
“Mhm,” Crowley nodded quickly, not wanting the faun to stop even for a second.
“Good, let me know if something doesn’t, okay?”
“Yep.”
Then Crowley found out that Aziraphale’s hands were magic, not literally, but to him they were. His fingers found every little niggle and annoyance, plucked out hidden leaves, flattened the askew feathers, tenderly brushed them, and left Crowley grasping at the pillow and gasping for breath. He wanted to cry, he hadn’t felt so cared for, so light and fresh for so long, and on the other hand he felt exhilarated, but relaxed, thrumming with a heat and energy that had him high with bliss.
“Are you ready for me to swap to the other wing now?”
“Ngk.”
And Crowley experienced it all over again with his left wing, the gentle caresses, the sweet, whispered praises, the closeness, the care. The faun paid attention to every detail, to every noise and twitch and shudder Crowley made, what felt good, and what felt even better. Now Crowley understood the intimacy of wing grooming like never before, and for someone without a single feather on their body, Aziraphale seemed to understand him better than anyone.
When the last feather was stroked and set right, Crowley thought it was over, but Aziraphale simply moved his hands to Crowley’s neck, shoulders, and back and begun to massage all of the muscles connected to his wing joints in his back. That time, Crowley couldn’t hold anything back, he hadn’t known how tight and aching and knotted the muscles in his back were, and he quietly wept between gasps and groans. It felt like not just a physical release but an emotional one, all of the worries and fears he’d been carrying were eased away by Aziraphale’s clever hands, they flowed out of him on salty tears and breathy gasps. Only when the faun finished, actually finished, did the tears dry up. Crowley felt wrung out, empty, but not in a bad way, like he was rid of a weight that he’d been unknowingly carrying, and now there was space for new, exciting, wonderful things.
“Are you alright, Crowley dear?” Aziraphale asked softly as he pulled his hands away and Crowley resettled his wings
“Mhm…yeah,” he croaked, swiping at his eyes and cheeks, “th-that was, um, wow…thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, you very much needed it, and I’d be happy to do it again anytime you desire,” the faun expressed fondly, “your feathers are lovely to touch, thank you for trusting me to groom them for you.”
All Crowley could do was splutter into the pillow, hiding his blush once again.
“You’re such a sweet thing,” Aziraphale commented with a smile and admiration in his voice, “would you like it if I read to you until you fall asleep?”
Turning his yellow eyes up to Aziraphale, Crowley nodded, curling up his legs, so that he was more ball-like.
“Alright, why don’t you have some of the water I left there for you while I choose a book,” the faun suggested, already getting up to peruse his collection.
Firstly, Crowley flipped the pillow over to the dry side, then he did as he was told, drinking the whole cup, not realising how thirsty he was until then. Of course, Aziraphale either knew or anticipated it, and along with a book, he brought over a water pitcher, refilling the cup for later.
“Thank you, Aziraphale, I mean for everything,” Crowley said sleepily, but sincerely.
“It’s no trouble, my dear, you are a bright soul, you just need time and space to be allowed to shine, and I want to give you that.”
“Ngk,” Crowley had never blushed so much in his life.
“Why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll find a spot to sit…” Aziraphale instructed him, waiting as Crowley curled himself back up, and laid his head on the pillow. The faun grabbed a loose blanket and laid it over him, tucking it underneath his wings so that they weren’t trapped, “Cosy?”
“Yes…” Crowley confirmed before blurting out, “I think you’re one of a kind, Aziraphale, like really special, I’m glad to have met you.”
“Oh, well, I’m happy you think so,” the faun smiled, it was a complicated smile though as if he’d heard that before but not in the positive way that Crowley meant it.
“I know so,” Crowley pushed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, making sure that Aziraphale knew that he genuinely felt that way.
That kicked up Aziraphale’s smile a few watts, and Crowley had never swooned before, but he thought that maybe he did then.
“Alright, um,” Aziraphale cleared his throat, seeming a little flustered, and then sat down right next to Crowley’s head, “this book is a favourite of mine, the title is ‘Good Omens’,” Aziraphale told him as he settled in, one hand stroking through Crowley’s mottled black and red head feathers on the pillow next to him, and the other holding the book open, “Chapter one…”
And that was all Crowley heard, his eyes closed, and his mind drifted away in comfort and warmth, contentment and safety, the last thing he remembered thinking before letting sleep finally take him was that he could get used to this. So maybe he would stay, not because of the supposedly beautiful woods, or the lack of claim to it by any other birdfolk, but because he really liked the sound of having a friend, especially if this was what it entailed. And even more so, he liked Aziraphale, a lot, like a lot, a lot, more than anyone he’d ever liked before.
Maybe that’s what home was.