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It was some time after moving into their cottage — every day brimful of more unfettered joy than he’d ever thought possible — that Aziraphale finally decided to broach the question that had been knocking on the edge of his mind.
“Crowley?” he said, when they were lounging together on the sofa. “May I ask you something?”
“Sounds like you just did ask me something,” Crowley observed, arching an innocent eyebrow. That response earned him an elbow in the ribs; Crowley just cackled, like the incorrigible (and, in Aziraphale’s no-longer-private opinion, quite adorable) fiend he was.
“I meant,” Aziraphale clarified with exaggerated patience, “to ask you something else. But if you’d rather I not…”
“Angel of mine.” Still laughing, but with an underlying layer of sincerity, Crowley leaned against his partner’s shoulder. “Are you actually asking me if I mind you asking questions? Me, of all people?”
“Hah. Fair point,” Aziraphale admitted. He smiled at Crowley, feeling the usual sense of jubilance bubble up again over their casual closeness. “I was only wondering… well, I noticed you’ve been wearing your sunglasses in the house more than you used to. Not that that’s a problem, of course!” he hastened to clarify. “They’re your glasses, and I certainly don’t mind. I just remember you used to take them off more when there were no humans around, that’s all.”
A quick glance at his companion’s face was enough to put to rest any worries that he might be prying into a sensitive topic. Crowley looked fully relaxed… and rather exceedingly amused into the bargain.
“That,” the demon pointed out, “was not a question.”
Aziraphale huffed.
In magnanimous tones, Crowley added, “But I’ll give you an answer anyway.”
“Very kind.”
Crowley didn’t even object to the four-letter word, just smirked and smoothed a hand along Aziraphale’s knee. “Angel, have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“...Pardon?”
“Or paid attention when we’re snuggling in the dark?”
“Of course I pay attention,” Aziraphale said indignantly. “Snuggling with you is far too lovely not to pay attention.”
Crowley stared at him. “You actually haven’t noticed, have you?”
“Noticed what?” Aziraphale wasn’t sure what had happened to this conversation.
“You,” said Crowley, lifting the angel’s hand to kiss it and preemptively remove any possibility of insult, “are ridiculous.”
Despite (or perhaps even partly because of) the teasing, Aziraphale’s heart swelled as usual at the tender gesture. He felt fit to burst with happiness…
“You’re doing it again,” said Crowley, adjusting his sunglasses. “You’re glowing.”
Aziraphale stared, momentarily befuddled, then processed the implications of Crowley’s statement.
The room did, in fact, seem somewhat brighter than it had before. As if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. Except, they were indoors, and it was a clear day to begin with, and it seemed even brighter where they were sitting than by the window…
Aziraphale groaned aloud, torn between laughter and embarrassment. “Crowley, my dear. Oh, dear. This is why you’ve been wearing your glasses more than usual?”
“Because you can’t be trusted not to spontaneously turn into a walking floodlight and blind me?” Crowley grinned, clearly unbothered. “It sure is. Easy solution. And I like my glasses, so it isn’t a problem.”
“But you could have said something! I could try—”
“No,” Crowley interrupted, very firmly, and put a finger to Aziraphale’s lips. “Don’t you dare try to turn it off.”
Aziraphale gently moved the finger out of the way so he could speak. “Whyever not? I’m sure I could find a way, if I put my mind to it…”
“You’ve been turning it off for six thousand years,” Crowley said, and suddenly the note of teasing was almost entirely gone. His voice was dead serious. “It’s about time you let it loose.”
“Oh,” said Aziraphale, because there was really nothing else to say to that. And, now he was conscious of it, he could feel himself glowing even brighter. Oh dear.
But Crowley was smiling again, the joyful expression on his face — an expression that was easy to read, sunglasses or no — seemingly brightening even as Aziraphale’s own light did the same.
“Trust me, angel. Seeing you finally let yourself be happy is well worth some extra sunglasses-wearing.”