Oh, well. This was going to be a conversation, certainly. He'd never asked about it, out of respect for Crowley as a person. Seemed like a hard time for him to talk about, and so he'd never pushed, never asked any details that he thought would be too painful to bring up. "Not all angels get one, darling. Just like not all demons have one of these," he adds, leaning in and kissing Crowley over where his snake tattoo is. Could've been much worse; he could've wound up with a frog on his head or covered in pockmarks and maggots.
"Do you remember anything?" he asks, because maybe Crowley would like to reflect on his time as an angel and Aziraphale would never want him not to do so, would never want to discourage him from anything he might find cathartic. And who better to talk through his past than the one he was going to marry, the only other person on Earth who understood a modicum of what it was like to live as he does? He doesn't know if Crowley still speaks to God or Satan, or if they respond to him. Certainly, God hasn't taken Aziraphale's call in a long time. So that was it, then. All they really had were each other.
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"Do you remember anything?" he asks, because maybe Crowley would like to reflect on his time as an angel and Aziraphale would never want him not to do so, would never want to discourage him from anything he might find cathartic. And who better to talk through his past than the one he was going to marry, the only other person on Earth who understood a modicum of what it was like to live as he does? He doesn't know if Crowley still speaks to God or Satan, or if they respond to him. Certainly, God hasn't taken Aziraphale's call in a long time. So that was it, then. All they really had were each other.