thegoodomensdumpster
i know as a historical matter and as an instinctual matter we’re all reblogging the snake fashions like “big crowley mood” but consider that after armageddon, it’s aziraphale who starts wearing them. he gets a new pocket watch with a snake motif instead of wings. a serpentine bracelet. snake-eye cuff links.
“i thought snakes were, you know. my area,” crowley says one evening, laying with his head in aziraphale’s lap and playing with the snake-eyed cuff links. they remind him of his own eyes, a little incongruous with the pale pastels of aziraphale’s shirt and waistcoat.
“yes, well,” aziraphale says. “i wore the wings as a symbol of my allegiance to heaven. couldn’t very well do that anymore.”
crowley leaves the cuff links alone and stares up at aziraphale. “so you’re wearing these as - as a symbol of?”
aziraphale’s mouth goes terribly soft; his voice goes quiet. “well,” he says, brushing the hair back from crowley’s forehead, lingering on his cheek. “i rather thought it might be nice to show where i do stand. and isn’t that with you?”
he looks as if he’s not quite sure, somewhere deep beneath his usual confidence, and crowley’s already reaching, already pulling his hands close, pressing kisses to the centre of his palms, to the soft undersides of his wrists. “it is,” he says, raising himself up to find aziraphale’s mouth, to press those kisses closer. “it is, it is, it is. stay with me, angel. stay with me forever.”
“yes,” aziraphale says, and when crowley casually hands him a ring shaped like a snake a few days later, an ouroboros with topaz eyes, a symbol of infinity, of rebirth, a symbol of eternal love, aziraphale takes it with not a little awe in his eyes and slips it, carefully, onto his left ring finger. it fits perfectly.
he never takes it off.
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