I'm Happy At Home (you're my best friend)
06 Jul 2019
When the dust settled after the Apocactually-what-if-we-didn’t, when they were back at Aziraphale’s newly reformed bookshop with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and the angel saw the way the demon’s lips were pressed into a thin line, the way his brows were furrowed together, when he looked and he knew that, should Crowley have removed his eyeglasses at that moment, Aziraphale would’ve seen something akin to sorrow, something akin to longing in those golden eyes, he wondered if he actually knew Crowley, or if he'd only fooled himself into thinking he did.
“I never did ask,” Aziraphale said softly, placing his glass on the table next to him. “Your friend… did they come back, after Adam reset everything?”
Based on this post: https://aziraphvle.tumblr.com/post/185897946352/imagine-after-the-apocalypse-that-wasnt-maybe
11 Jul 2019
Things continued, as they tend to do. A month went by, a month wherein Aziraphale was convinced more of Crowley's belongings were in his shop than the demon's flat.
A few smaller plants appeared on his countertops. A leather jacket was draped over his sofa. The keys to the Bentley sat in a ceramic bowl by the bed— the bed that was now being used, almost every night, by a particular demon who had insisted on getting better quality sheets because good Lucifer, angel, when did you even get these?
(Aziraphale blushed as he admitted that they came with the bed, which came with the flat, which came with the shop, which Aziraphale opened in the 1800s.)