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Slow Cooker Soup

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Author's Note:

Hey I have to come right out and say that this show is amazing. There is no way to create an another story that is just as good as it already is. Any way this is as good as I can get it, and I hope you enjoy.


There they were good and evil, immortal enemies constantly locked an endless battle, dimly lit in soft phosphorescent lights of the super market. Crowley stared intensely at the rack of magazines that lined the cash register they stood in line for, Aziraphale held a loaf of whole wheat bread softly grinning. "Thank you for meeting me here. I couldn't help but think about those ducks at the pond."

"Don't mention it", Crowley said feeling annoyance at the thought of kindness. He would allow it for Aziraphale though, after all Satan knew how much he put up with Crowley. He lifted his gaze from the rack and on to the kind little angel. Aziraphale looked almost blue in the unnatural lighting, very out of place with the rest of the early morning shoppers as if he was faintly glowing.

At the pond he sat on a bench as he watch the angel stand by the pond throwing bread to the ducks. "Hello there Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John", Aziraphale exclaimed in a humming tone. Behind his dark glasses Crowley rolled his eyes at the duck's silly names. It was such an angelic scene though. Even outside the store Aziraphale continued to have this brilliant appearance; Crowley watched in wonder as he pranced on the banks with the horde of fluffy ducks. "Oh my how wonderful you all were", The angel said holding the empty bread bag, "I'm afraid I've run out bread." He showed his empty palms to them and they slowly waddled off. One followed him back to the bench though.

"You got company".

"Oh my what a lovely little creature you are ", Aziraphale stooped down and picked the duck off the ground. It's feathers going everywhere as it struggled to be set free. "Oh God", He yelled as the creature bit him. The angels arms opened up at the beast attack and the foul fiend fled back to the safety of the water.

"Can't win them all, I see", Crowley chuckled tilting his glasses down to cast a smile at him. Aziraphale lit up red in embarrassment.

"Not everyone is easy to love", Aziraphale said staring longingly at the ravenous duck, "But I love them anyway". The angel brushed the feathers off his coat. It was kind of odd just sitting there blissfully; The end of the world had already happened, and they were still there. In fact, the were more than living - they were free.

"Do you have any plans now?", Crowley questioned. He himself hadn't really considered how he was going to live with this new freedom. "Ever reconsidered my offer?"

Aziraphale's pursed up almost as if he'd eaten a lemon, and broke with laughter. Crowley gave a nervous chuckle as well. He wondered what about it was so funny. "I don't know Crowley perhaps we can talk about it later." The angel laid a hand on his shoulder, and his fear melted away.

Chapter Text

It had been a couple days since the two last meet up, and Crowley wandered around his flat aimlessly. His cold blooded heart seeped into what felt like an inky black uncertainty, but it did glimmer at the thought that it wasn't a definite no. He danced a little bit it in his foyer to Queen till he felt devilish with a plan. Find me somebody to love started playing over the speakers."It could still be a yes", He grinned. Maybe Aziraphale didn't share his feelings, but he could.

He sauntered to the rhythm into his office leaning on to his throne. Crowley screamed along to the song as he buried his head in his hands. "What if it's bull shit?!", He whispered. It could be. However, the anticipation was killing him. He would truly never know until he gave it a try.

The demon stared longingly at the telephone. "How are we going to do this?", He sighed. The lively music in the other room blurred into a muddy silence. "It's not like you don't know him. You've been together for about... 6000 years, I think.", Crowley huffed. It had to been something special of course, and thinking about it made him heart sick.

Aziraphale loved food, that was for sure, but Crowley was sure he'd already tasted all of the fine favors in the world. Crowley rubbed his hands into his temples. Aziraphale loved books too, but Crowley was also sure that he'd read everything in existence by now. He was in great need of advice though his heart ached to call Aziraphale for help.

Crowley's hand reached for the phone, his hand just falling short. "God damn it". Lightening struck outside, "I'm sorry". He lifted himself from the side of the throne. Crowley picked up the sleek black phone from it's holder, clicking his nails against the jasper top of his desk as some type of nervous tick. He was on the edge of his seat as the line rang. Ring ring ring, he thought about hanging up the phone. "This was a bad idea", he whispered.

"Hello?", Said Aziraphale in a humming tone. Crowley's veins pulled with fire as his cheeks got red hot.

"Hello Aziraphale. Um I was wondering-"

"What was that?!", Aziraphale yelled into the phone, "I hear Queen, are you in your car?".

Crowley took a deep breath, and almost pieced himself back together. "Yeah um, I was wondering if I could ask you a question, Angel."

On the other end of the line Aziraphale fell silent, " I can't hear you over all that noise, Crowley. Perhaps you should call at a different time. "

Strangely Crowley felt a little relief at those words, "Sssure", He hissed hanging up the phone. His heart wasn't completely back on track, but at least he could avoid exposing it for just one more day. The rumble of 70's rock vibrated from the foyer. He wandered back into the chaotic noise hoping that perhaps they might baptize his thoughts somehow. The steady pounding washing over him, fulling him with the involuntary desire to dance. Not like Crowley was any good at it, he have had some practice, but it wasn't exactly a waltz. The movement was spontaneous and emotional, it required his arms to pointing in multiple directions, but it wasn't exactly a waltz. Crowley yelled at the speaker system which promptly shut it it. He thoughts ran wild as he tore is black shades from his face. "I'll teach him how to waltz", he cried.

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To be honest Crowley never really learned how to dance. It was more like a feeling than a movement which was why it was the perfect way to showcase his feelings for Aziraphale. He felt mischievous looking online for find out how, had even made a grid on the floor to help with his footing, but it wasn't really coming together. In honesty, Crowley didn't like learning that way. He could practice and practice and then practice some but as soon as he needed to don't in public it would never be as perfect. That's why he tried to do everything improv. His blood boiled in frustration as he slouched down on to the sectioned floor. The demon needed experience.

Crowley was desperately looking through different dance classes on the internet. He didn't want to show anyone he knew about this awfully kind thing he was about to do. He found one for later that night in a hole in the wall studio not far from Soho, London. All he had to worry about now was if he was going to go through with it.

The studio was small and drab, reminding him a lot of hell in a silly way. The dance wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Crowley felt it was delightful sinful. Two people interlocked in the feeling of music as they both glided across a ball room floor. It wasn't to sinful though. There was a certain elegance that intertwined itself though out the movement that made him think a lot about the way Aziraphale carried himself. It was perfect for the job.

It didn't take long to find Aziraphale. The Angel was happily sitting in the closed book shop reading a small red book ( The communist manifesto, as god had intended). Crowley often like surprising the fellow with his appearance. He slivered into the store through an open window, before transforming back into himself and siting on a nearby ottoman. Crowley stared at the little features of his face. Aziraphale wore a tiny smile as he finished up his reading, and his glasses slid down his face as he gradually got lost in the story. Crowley never understood why any of the other angels could have grown to hate him; Even his appearance was a shocking reminder of the beauty of heaven.

He couldn't help but cringe at the seer pureness of that last thought. It was so bad Aziraphale even felt it.

"How long you've been here", Aziraphale marked his page and set the book down. The fled into the back of the store to retrieve an unopened bottle of wine and to glasses.

"Oh not to long, just thought I'd pop in for a chat", Crowley gladly took the wine. It would definitely help if he was just a little bit hammered.

"Oh good. I was wondering when we were going to meet up again", Aziraphale smiled as he sipped the wine, "Thought about calling you for lunch at the Ritz".

"Actually can I tempt you to a new place. I think you'll really like it", Crowley smiled finishing his glass, "If you want I can pick you up here at 8pm tomorrow."

"Why", Aziraphale's eyes lit up, "That sounds splendid". And the plan was set in motion.

Chapter Text

Crowley's heart was being played like a harp. He sat in his Bentley with the stupidest smirk on his face. Aziraphale sat in the passenger seat gripping onto the safety handle for dear life. Night had already set on London, so as Crowley raced downtown all of the sparkles of night life passed by in streaks. The frighten expression on the angel would have made Crowley laugh or heckle him if he wasn't so focused on worrying about the date. What in world was he going to say? He couldn't outright phrase it like love, it was a drowning infatuation, and as Crowley sped along the highway he was pulled out of thought by Aziraphale screaming.

"Watch were you'll going Crowley!", Aziraphale nearly had a heart attack as Crowley swerved to avoid another car, "You could of hit someone!"

Aziraphale was serious, he was always serious, but Crowley couldn't wipe the smirk of his to say straightly, " Sorry, Angel". After all, he really just loved watching him squirm. He dropped his thoughts though, driving to the spot calmly for Aziraphale's sake. He pulled into a quiet place by side the river Thames. The water was illuminated by the soft white glow of street lamps that paved it's way, and a large motor boat floated silently in the dim light.

"What is this place?", Aziraphale commented while stepping out of the car.

"You were expecting a restaurant?", Crowley smiled as he motioned toward the boat, " It almost took a miracle to put it together, but I promise you it's just as good as any dinner at the Ritz." The Angel hesitated for a moment eyeing the boat suspiciously before breaking into a pleasant smile.

"It sounds lovely." said a voice as sweet of sunshine.

They sauntered together on the boat, where the was a conveniently place table, and a piano placed at the back boat with enough space in between that Crowley hoped would allow for a dance. The boat relied on the light of the street lamps for the most part, but a tiny candle in the center of the table. It was just them and the open night sky. As they took their seats the piano started up, and the boat began to float gently in the river.

Crowley had secretly had food for the Ritz catered, hoping desperately that Aziraphale wouldn't know any better. Never the less, the angel did enjoy it. It seemed like they could talk forever. The subject didn't matter, and the more they sipped on wine (as if it could be called a proper date in Crowley's mind with out it) they spoke more freely.

"I wonder how this all how started out?" Crowley said looking in awe at the stars that seemed to glide above them.

"The Universe?", Aziraphale hummed as follow the demons gaze to the stars. He had always had a thing for music, not anything that fit Crowley's taste, but a sweet melody on a piano.

It wasn't the topic Crowley had in mind, "Sure. Do you think God intended to create something so ... beautiful." He turned his face back to the soft face of Aziraphale, who quite frankly didn't realize the fact that he was being smiled at.

"I don't know. She created it though, and I think it's an honor we still get to enjoy it", Aziraphale was lost in the deep profoundness of the stars. Crowley wondered if the angel would have enjoyed it better from Alpha centenarian.

While Aziraphale was lost in this gaze of wonder, Crowley turned and made a motion to the pianist, who in fear for his life began to play a slow dance. Crowley downed the last bit of his wine for good luck and got up from his seat. Aziraphale switched his gaze back to the demon.

"Would you care to enjoy it with me?", Crowley said sweetly holding out a hand to him.

Aziraphale looked into Crowley's eyes, "With pleasure", he said taking his hand.

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Crowley was trying his best not to turn into a blushing, hissing mess. Although Aziraphale flinched when Crowley put his hand on the angel's waist burning a bright rose in his cheeks. However, the angel took a deep breath and then stared determine at the demon slowly closed the gap and pulled the demon close. Crowley eagerly started up the dance taking it slow so Aziraphale could match his pace. Crowley was surprised that Aziraphale was a better dancer than he thought, after all it was common knowledge that angels couldn't dance. However, He was even more bewildered that he could keep step at all, after all Crowley was deeply adsorbed in Aziraphale's eyes. They were soft like that of a puppies, dark and cute. That sudden spark that inhabited them when they started the movement never fade. Crowley was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe he loved him back.

The swayed to the romantic melody that played across the quiet rippling water. Step in Step with Crowley's foot being stepped on for time to time.

"My oh dear, where did you learn this?", Aziraphale said blushing.

"Oh, You know ... just picked it up somewhere", Crowley lied smirking.

He let go of Aziraphale and gave him a twirl, "Oh my", the Angel's eyes beamed with excitement as he brought back to the embrace. "You're such a snake". He said mockingly. It was true though. Crowley in all his cold bloodiness enjoyed every bit of it. The warmth coming off of Aziraphale made him feel more lively by the second.

"You like it though, don't you angel?", asked Crowley in a hushed tone.

If it was even possible Aziraphale blush went darker, "It's tempting", He admitted, "but I love all god's creatures."

"So you do love me?", Crowley hummed stopping the dance to hold Aziraphale's face.

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, and reached up to take Crowley's glasses off. His yellow snake eyes were watery almost at the point of bursting into tears, and glowed softly in a fiery passion. Crowley couldn't help but feel exposed. He turned into a red mess. "I'm ssseriouss", the demon hissed starring intensely into the angel. Aziraphale stared back with a shocked expression before averting his eyes to the ground. Crowley put a hand under his chin bringing their eyes back together. "Just say something", Crowley whispered, the silence nearly boiling him alive, "Say that you love me."

Aziraphale stood there for a moment his big brown puppy dog eyes peering deeply into the demon's soul. Then suddenly the angel planted himself firmly against Crowley's chest, "God forgive me", he whispered. He was in tears, both of them were. The soft music, the river, and the stars fading away as Crowley leaned down and kissed him.

Chapter Text

It was a while until Crowley pulled away, gently cradling the angel in his arms. The demon stared out into the beautiful night. "I think she forgave you already", He sighed. Aziraphale smiled as he went on his tippy toes to give peck a Crowley on the cheek.

"Dear Lord, I've been wanting to do that for a while now", the Angel giggled.

"Really", Crowly purred, "What about ' Thou shall not l lie with another man' hmm". A smug smirk crept across his face.

The Angel's eye went wide with fear, " I thought we were standing?!".

Crowley hunched over in a rain of thunderous laughter, "You should tell her that, angel." Aziraphale went back to the table, and pouted. It was like they entered a new level of existence that was even freer than before. It was honest and pure.

Although, the car ride home was like the hundreds of rides they'd taken together over the last 120 old years with the Bentley. Expect this time, Crowley was able to kiss Aziraphale good bye. He had to admit it: he felt like a whole new demon.

At his flat, he yelled at his plant in a more frightful tone than ever, they had to be disciplined if Aziraphale was ever going to see them. Then, he turned his speakers up extra loud in order to drown out the random shrieks he made while running around his apartment. Crowley didn't know why he had all this energy, but he felt alive. He needed to go out though, he felt too evil to stay inside anymore. Crowley put on a fresh jacket, and stepped outside.

The sun had given him a very small faint shadow in the crisp morning rays, but it was just enough to conceal his demonic plans. He walked for quite a while till he reached an empty park just on the outside of Soho. Humans felt auras subconsciously, unlike witches, good and bad ones manifested themselves as kind of gut feelings. It was a shame that they never knew how to interpret them. In fact, a number of battles took place on huge auras of consecrated holiness, humans only seemed to think it was a good place to die. This park was no different; It was damned, but it gave off a feeling that made them pave side walks and make signs that said 'keep off the grass'. Although like all things written though Crowley ignored it.

The grass gave a soft crunch as the demon near the center of the park. It would take a miracle to find it, it being a small cache of particularly rare items. Suddenly Crowley stepped into a fox hole. "Damn it", he cried. He looked down into the hole that so thoughtlessly muddied his shoe, and in it shone a tiny ornate box, "Huh", he chuckled at the now okay hole, "Thank you."

He pulled it from from the lose ground, and dusted in off.

"What you got there, Demon", said a rather uninterested angel.

"What's it to you", Crowley scoffed turning around on his heels, "Gabriel."

Chapter Text

"Nothing", frowned Gabriel in disgust, "Crawley". The Ark angel already starting to feel the slow unholy sting of the damned area.

"It's Crowley, Numb nuts", The demon was already cringing at his presence.

"You can suck a egg for all I care", Retorted Gabriel. He shifted uneasily on his feet as the grass began to crawl at him his purple eyes beaming with hate, "In fact", he clicked his tongue, "You have."

Crowley snarled, "Since when did I become a threat to Heaven?", he was purely sarcastic, but it was way over Gabriel's head.

"Since when!?", the purple eye's scoffed, "How about we start when you began making it look bad, huh! How about when you poisoned the mind of Aziraphale."

Crowley really wasn't in the mood to bicker. He jammed the ornate box into his pocket, and began walking deeper into the dark park. "If I stand correct, you all were the ones doing the poisoning. In fact, I'm surprised he hasn't thought of revenge yet, you do remember what you said to him in heaven?"

"Oh come on, you know wrath is a sin."

"Yes, but you're all really old testament. Wouldn't be too sure, you know."

"That's not why I'm here," the angel shouted grinding his teeth together at the soft and very annoy sting Crowley had too much experience with, "That's not why I came to this God forsaken park, or why I'm talking to this God forsaken asshole!"

The way Gabriel burned with rage and fury convinced Crowley his job was done. Rather satisfied with his button pushing, he indulged Gabriel, "Then why are you here? It's not like you can kill me or Aziraphale."

Gabriel shook his head smiling slightly; just enough to creep the hell out of Crowley, "There are worst things than death", he eerily chuckled, "Sure I can't kill either one of you physically, but imagine just imagine ... the ways I can kill him mentally."

"You wouldn't dare", Crowley clenched his fist. He felt helpless, and he hated it. Fire slipped from him causing a ring of smoke to rise up in the early morning. Gabriel loved to do his best work in beautiful places, he drew in from a human phrase he once heard: location, location, location. He would recommend it highly because of how aesthetic effected people, and he was very aesthetic.

"And I won't", he said leaning up against a tree for some relief from the infernal stinging that had by now crept its way up his legs. "If you leave Aziraphale alone."

Crowley stepped back in shock. After 6000 years he was quite fond of his friend, and after that scene on the boat he was very fond of him. "Bullshit", he grunted.

"Well it is better than the alternative", Gabriel said. He just about had it with this damn ground, "Aziraphale alone on earth does sound a lot better ,at least to me, than Aziraphale trapped alone somewhere in the cosmos. Like Jupiter, I've heard it's very hard to fly there."

"Shut up!", Crowley roared shacking the dimly lit forest.

Gabriel raised his hands in a motion of surrender, "Just consider it. I'll give you 3 days."

Chapter Text

Aziraphale sat rather comfortable in this book shop. He bubbled around like a fizzing bottle of sparkling water. He felted loved for the first time in existence, and he couldn't stop giggling. As he tried to get in some light reading, Aziraphale just kept reliving every moment from the boat; the taste of the wine, the sight of stars, how it felt to be held, and the sound Crowley. God help him, for he was in love. He thought about that a lot too, if God felt any different about him. However, by this time he reckoned that he'd done about everything the Bible told him not to, but still hadn't been reduced to a demon or out right killed. She really did work in mysterious ways, and Aziraphale tried not to worry about it too much.

What really ruffled the angel's feathers was the silence. He had at least expected a call from Crowley, and it was almost tea time. He retired to the fact that Crowley led a different life than his, and must have had other things to deal with. "I'll call him after work", Aziraphale reassured himself. For some reason that hurt him a little, though it had never hurt before.

The angel got his excitement back when he pulled a box of chocolates from back of his store. Food had been his first love, forever and always. He munched on them till in time to close the book shop, and like millions of times before Aziraphale called Crowley.

"Angel?", murmured the demon on the other end of the line. He seemed sick or drunk or something, "Now's not a really good time for me. Can I call you later?"

"Crowley, are you alright?", Aziraphale was starting to panic just a smig.

"Just peachy, Love", Crowley lied. He had forced himself to smile as if the angel could see through the phone lines.

Aziraphale thought for a moment, "No, no something is up", he frowned the was only one course of action. "I won't let your pride get the best of you. I'm coming over."

"No!", the demon blurted out. "The place is a mess", he lied again, "You wouldn't like it: it's got ... Satan stars and other evil thingamabobs." There were of course no such things in his flat. In fact, times magazine might have called it industrial or modern, and Crowley would agree that Satan stars and other evil thingamabobs were very very 2000 and late.

"I don't care", The angel huffed, "You clearly need my help."

"I didn't say that", Crowley whined.

"It's to late, I've already prepared myself for the evil upholstery."

"God speed then", the demon said hanging up the phone.

Chapter Text

Tears burnt up his face, his fiery hair was matted and twisted, and he hadn't even bothered putting cologne on. He almost couldn't bring himself to stand when he heard a gentle knock on the door. Crowley was terrified when he opened it. Aziraphale stood in the door way, shocked into silence. In an instant they were together.

"Angel, lets run away", Crowley sobbed, "Together."

Aziraphale hushed him, bringing the crying demon to his chest. He ran his fingers through Crowley's hair, "I am here", he whispered reassuringly, "I am here." Crowley lifted himself from the angel's coat, and met Aziraphale's eyes. They were framed by a dewy fog. Their sparkle dimmed in hurt at reflection of the demon's pain. Both of them stood their in loving silence just drinking in the sight of one another. The angel reached up and kissed him.

The taste him lingered on Crowley's lips, it was chocolate. The whole world was chocolate. And like fondue he melted in the heat between them, his cold blooded heart shivering as he was slowly sat on fire in their embrace.

"I love you", Crowley whispered. The angel took a robin blue handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears off Crowley.

He stared awkwardly at the inside of the flat, " Pardon me, sweet. May I come in?" Inside the flat it was dark and musky. Crowley's heart sank when he found Aziraphale in the plant room holding a plant with a hole in it's leaf. He wanted to scream, but was cut off by the sound of Aziraphale talking to it. "Poor little guy", Aziraphale said in a sing song voice, "Let's get you patched up." He placed his hand on the broken leaf, and it glowed. The heavenly figure removed his hand placing the lush specimen back in the collection. He was always so sweet. Aziraphale then turned and faced Crowley, "I would have never imagined." The angel did a 360 as he gazed at the greenery.

"It's my little piece of Edin", Smile Crowley. He was going to give that plant a piece of his mind later.

Aziraphale had a silly grin on his face. He felt that same happiness bubble up inside him again, "It's beautiful", he hummed.

Crowley huffed starring at the angel trying to say, 'Not as much as you', but he was speechless. He was in love with the way he walked on the cold grey floor, how he cared so much for Crowley's retched plants, and how he tasted like chocolate. Crowley had a hole in heart without him. The emptiness threatening to swallow him whole. He wouldn't let go Aziraphale willingly.

Hail Lucifer, that Crowley was able to clean up the living room. Before it was a mess; Pillows and blankets had been demonically pulled together in order to make a depressing fortress of solitude. Instead, Aziraphale sat on a pristine red sofa, crossing his legs, and began making puppy dog eyes. Crowley couldn't resist the temptation. The devil sat beside him resting his head on the angel's should. "Was it Beelzebub?", Asked Aziraphale in a worried tone, " Or Hastur? Did they threaten you?"

Crowley couldn't stand to lie anymore. "It was the fruit cake", he sighed.

"Gabriel?", Aziraphale said astonished.


"What did he say?"

"The *unt gave me an ultimatum", he was trying really hard not the swell back up with tears, "He said they were going to lock you away."

"What did he want?", said Aziraphale.

Crowley stared up at the ceiling, "He wanted me to leave you alone." They both felt like they'd been stabbed. A small paralysis of unimaginable fear barreled through them like a slow summer breeze, like the slow realization that one might die in their sleep.

Aziraphale shook his head, then placed his head in his heads, "I'll kill him." Rage flowed like lava through him, "Damn him!", The angel pounded his fist into the couch.

Crowley put his hand on the angel's thigh, "Hey beautiful", he soothed. He kissed the top of Aziraphale fluffy head. The reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny ornate box, "I got something for you." Aziraphale hadn't moved, his world was going to be ripped from him. He just shut down. Crowley opened the box, and pulled out a stack of photos. He began to giggle at them.

Curious Aziraphale took a deep and shaking breath. He too couldn't stand to frown at the wore black and white photos.

"You looked nice with longer hair", he retorted sadness still gripping the back of his throat.

"You think so?", Crowley ran a hand over his short hair. He flipped through the stack until he pulled out a yellowed imagine, it had to have been at least one hundred years all. "Like this?", It was their first picture together, back when the camera was first invented. It showed both of them in dorky top hots, and the same silly smiles they had worn for over 6000 years. The same silly smile that crept across Aziraphale.

"Yeah, about like that. Just minus those horrible mutton chops", Aziraphale chuckled.

" I am offended", he joked wiping the tears off Aziraphale's face with his hand. He leaned into him, "But I got to admit", he whispered into the angel's ear, "You looked hot in ruffles."

Aziraphale snorted, his face flushing with embarrassment. Crowley kissed his red little ear. He couldn't see a future with them apart, he wouldn't stand for it. Gabriel could go f-u-c-k himself.

Chapter Text

There was a great compromise afoot, and there was only one place in the universe where all great compromises had to take place: France, more specially, Versailles. The only reason why anyone could think of was that it was a perfect place was because it allowed for both sides to tell their coworkers that they were going to France. However, this caused more trouble in the world unlike like any other because everyone wants to go to France. Gabriel, like most, loved the country; It had beautiful aesthetics, but more importantly because there was a tiny little bakery in Normandy that sold the perfect cinnamon roll. It was his one earthy indulgence. It was sad that compromises only happened in Versailles.

The two Dukes of hell that sat across from him in a mediocre bakery in the sub-pare city where both completely content with the simple novelty of making their coworkers jealous. Envy was kind of their thing.

"Do you think it'll work?", Buzzed Beelzebub, "It just seems like lately every plan heaven hatches is a bad egg."

"Bad heaven eggs are good though", Hastur reasoned, "right."

"Stupid has a point. Aren't these two in trouble for compromising in the first place?", Questioned the lady of flies.

"Yes", Gabriel admitted. It left a sour taste in his mouth which was only enhanced by the lack of superb cinnamon rolls, "It's good for both of us. They'll be easier to manage apart."

"One in the hand is worth two in the bush", Hastur announced proudly.

The Ark angel and duchess rolled their eyes at the half wit, "Okay", Beelzebub agreed, "How do we plan on separating them?"

"Distance, and threats", said Gabriel flatly.

"You're kidding, right?", she threw her hands up in frustration, "We can't even kill them."

"No pain, no gain", chimed in Hastur. He felt rather smart throwing in human proverbs, and he might have been helpful if he actually knew what they meant.

"Heaven has a plan, and it's being handled by a higher authority," assured Gabriel leaning forward in his chair. It was just a little too close though was he could begin to smell the stench of the demons which was only enhanced by the complete and utter lack of fragrant gooey delicious cinnamon rolls.

"We need insurance", Beelzebub stated. It wasn't unlike demons to have any faith in God.

"Fine", Gabriel huffed rubbing his temples. A migraine had developed behind his purple eyes from the horrible craving, and the horrible inconvenience the location proposed, "I'll let you guys pick who will suffer the most."

Beelzebub frowned, "Does that really matter?"

"It does to me", Hastur exclaimed, "and if possible I'd like to give you a nickel's worth of free advice."

Hastur gave Beelzebub a nod. "It's a deal", she announced, and just like that city of Versailles ceased to exist. The compromise was reached.

Chapter Text

He was glowing again, and it drove Crowley crazy. The sunlight that shone onto the patio of a tiny french bakery in Normandy caught his eyes like a prism. The angel just sat their enjoying a cinnamon roll unaware of the effect he had on the demon. Aziraphale didn't remember who told him about the place, but it was definitely worth crossing the English channel for brunch. Crowley on the other hand, had completely abandoned the pastry in favor of savoring the man in front of him.

"It's going to get cold", Aziraphale said pointing to the lukewarm roll.

"Oh", Crowley shifted his gaze down to his plate. He wasn't craving it anymore, "I can put it in a box, take it back to my flat", he flirted, "I probably taste even better warmed up a bit."

Red darted across the angel's face, and he glowed just a little more. The angel had a beautiful smirk, "I have a better" , he said sliding a hand across the table. Crowley stiffen, frozen by blush as if his unearthly being some how faded out of existence with the some creeping of the angels hand. He was waiting in grave anticipation for it's touch, and how he longed for it. So much he could feel the scales on the back of his neck twitch. The angel smirked mischievously, and slithered back to his spot with Crowley's cinnamon roll.

"You rapscallion", the demon whined crossing his arms.

"Like I'd let it go to waste", Aziraphale said triumphant talking a bite of it. God, it truly was the best in existence.

"You're terrible", Crowley laughed. He couldn't help but give the angel of grin, after all it was a little devilish.

"I believed I learned it from the best", Aziraphale gestured toward Crowley.

"And you, angel, have done the worst", Crowley shook his head while getting up from the table, "You've turned me into an honest man."

Somethings are too good to savor though; Things like cinnamon rolls from obscure bakeries in France, it's sometimes better to long for it's flavors. True love, in that sense, is a lot like cinnamon rolls. They're only good if they come from obscure bakeries.

The Bentley bounced up and down on the faerie. Aziraphale looked back from the window on the grey waves, Crowley watched as the Angel seemed to stop glowing and a grimace smeared across his face. "Do you think he'd actually do it", Aziraphale wondered. The sodden word of the angel sunk like into the depths of Crowley mind like lead.

"Gabe? No", The demon nodded nervously, "I'd doubt he'd do anything." Crowley put a had on Aziraphale's shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss, "Except talk shit."

"I doubt that", the angel retorted turning away from Crowley. Outside the car a light rain began to fall on the glass. The pitter patter washing over like a dark cloud. A strong wind pressuring them toward worry, "I believe a life on earth is far better than the monstrosity Gabriel may be planning."

"Angel, you've got me", Crowley holding his hand to his cold blooded heart, "And nothing will go wrong, as long as you got me."

The angel broke into nervous laughter, "Love, I can imagine nothing better." Lightning smashed in to the sea, "I'm just worried." The faerie gave a loud blast from it's horn that mixed with the thunder to make a God awful noise.

"What do you want me to do?", The demon nipped at Aziraphale's neck, "It's not like I can keep my hands off you."

The wind shook the car, and they both fell into a nervous chuckle. Three day's time was up, and storm was rolling into the English streets as did the gleam of a black Bentley.

Chapter Text

A dim light lingered in the dark rims of Crowley's glasses. He was curled up on the world's softest pillow, and it gingerly reached over to pluck the ornament off his face. The angel pulled a light blue clothe from his pocket and cleaned them before placing them both back into his coat for safe keeping. Aziraphale never thought he could soothe such a hellish creature. He smiled a little; The rhythm of Crowley's breathing slowing blurred the bookstore around him, and even the rain outside. How long have I wanted for something like this? Love swept him in the whims of wonder as he started to doze off.

It must have been around seven in the morning when he was awaken by a soft knock. Aziraphale yawned stretching a hand down to feel the softness of Crowley's hair, but he was met with the rough texture of khaki pants.

"Yarp", Gabriel exclaimed, "You couldn't be more forward."

Aziraphale exploded like a pressurized kettle, "Damn you!", he got up to move but the Archangel put a hand on his shoulder bringing him back down with unimaginable force.

"I want you to meet an associate of mine", Gabriel motioned to the door way, a black eyed demon entered.

"Greetings", Hastur said politely. If he was going to be frank he was nervous, so he gave the angels a slight wave.

"You hypocrite!", Aziraphale spat. The angel going red hot with rage. Hastur beamed back with an even more horrifying look; the whole world drained of color and light. It was just black. It was just evil. Aziraphale shivered.

"Oh", Gabriel chuckled, "I've got to tell you: He's really good at his job. Like wow, I think it even got you." It was cold. Gabriel tighten his grip, "Ready?" It wasn't really a question, more like an order with attitude. Hastur gave a toothy smile, and they ceased to be on Earth.


The dewy morning made for a nice outing. Crowley stumbled through the streets with Soho with the stupidest grin on his face, and he didn't care if anyone saw it. All he could think about was chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and the sweet words Aziraphale read to him last night. He was intoxicated, in a sense, and in desperate need of caffeine. 'Coffee', he thought as he approached a mini-cafe, 'There's no better way to wake up'.

He was always in a Queen mood, today it had been killer queen, and he swung his arms passionately to the beat. By some demonic miracle he only scourged himself a couple times on the way back to the book store.

The whole building was very surreal. Crowley couldn't help but stop and stare at it. The light brown stone work a testament to the history this building had seen, and a statement of elegance to the being that maintained it. 'How many times have I walked through it's doors?', He wondered. 'Not enough', the demon smiled devilishly as he sauntered back inside.

Chapter Text

Some say if you can slow time you might be able to spot the exact moment a person falls in love, and some people would say the opposite. This was that time, the exact moment his heart dropped down through the floor. The emptiness of the book store settled in the back of his throat and burned. The acid of his own decisions carved up his insides, turning him into a volatile and sloshing mess. He stiffened up as the truth wrapped around his windpipe preventing him from screaming. He was choking on the awful silence. Where was his angel?

Crowley reviled on the hard wood. The whole room began to roast, the ends of books began to steam, and smoke seeped from his every moment. He was going to explode, literally. "GET OUT!", Screamed every demonic voice in the back of his head, but one whispered. It was heavy and sad as it muttered, "Just burn already", Tears vaporized off the demon's face as flames shot from his eyes, "It was only a matter of time."

He was shaking. Fire licking at his flesh, "get out", the demonic voices fading, "get out and find him." Paper is such a good kindling, it flares up and burns quickly. Crowley watched as each volume break out into spontaneous combustion. Everything he loved, and everything the person he loved had loved was up in flames. He couldn't help but think that Aziraphale was watching him, frowning with those horribly beautiful eyes as Crowley was being burnt alive. Who would help him if he was discorporated? It's not like hell would happily give him a new body. He couldn't give up it now. Not when Aziraphale needed him most. His blacken wings tore through the back of his leather jacket, embers clinging to the soft breeze they stired up. "My Angel!", he cried pressing his hands to his face, "My Angel!"

Some place pure, he forced himself to think, go someplace safe. The next thing Crowley felt was the spongy texture of grass. He took a fist full and gave it a squeeze, an ancient fury coursing through him. "My Angel", he whispered tearfully as he stared out into space, "Someone's stolen my ... my", Crowley groaned in agony. His whole body stung and ached both physically and mentally; he couldn't help but curse himself. Crowley was falling into void-less uncertainty, the only thing he knew was that he'd have to find Aziraphale, and that there was hell to raise. He pulled himself to his feet as he out stretched his wings. They cracked and crumbled under the pressure of movement; Hell would have to wait.


Hastur stood juxtapose to the black of space, and the Archangel Gabriel stood with his back to the sun. Both wore the stupidest grins. "This is it", Gabriel said in a sing sang voice. The angel spun on his heels, "Here's your new home, and it's got quite the view. Look!" Gabriel pointed at a half crescent shape, it took up a quarter of the sky above them, and was very hard to miss. Earth hung in the distance like the shore of an island. Aziraphale felt so alone, and ever so far away. "I'm jealous", admitted Gabriel, "Of all the places to rot; This has got to be the best."

"It was my idea", snapped Hastur.

Gabriel gave a subtle nod of thanks, "Yeah, I was thinking we'd just stuff you on Neptune, you know, and just watch you get crushed to death ... But the moon", Gabriel clicked his tongue, "It's absolutely ironic"

Aziraphale looked numb down at the planet as the sunlight slowly started to creep over it's prefect curve. All he could think about was the image of Crowley waking up alone, and afraid. He stared at the lively planet, all he could do was look at it. "Why don't you just kill me?", Aziraphale fell to his knees.

Good and evil looked down and laughed. Hastur hoped that Lignur was smiling down at him from where ever he was. He would not let Crowley get off that easily. Gabriel rejoiced at the sight, Aziraphale the sunspot of heaven, the Archangel was sure he was doing God's work. Chains rose up from the lunar surface and affixed the angel in place.

Chapter Text

Gabriel was glowing in the distant sunlight, his mind becoming numb as he stared across the barren surface of the moon. All this time he had been wringing his hands over the will of God when the root of all his problems was shacked up in a tiny book store. His blindness was making him itch on the inside. The archangel looked back at Aziraphale, the itch had been scratched. Heaven could finally make a difference on earth, shouldn't he feel exhilarated? Gabriel shifted his soft gaze towards the green planet, and began his nerves began to swell. He had dedicated his whole life to his faith in God and in himself; This would just be another trial, and he would emerge strong.

"Having second thoughts?", sneered Hastur through a toothy smile.

"Nah", Gabriel scoffed, "Just thinking about what to do when I get back on earth. Maybe I'll cure cancer, or construct a global government." There really was too many things to choose from. He shifted around unaware with what to do with himself, "What do you think?"

The demon felt odd giving advice to an angel. Goodness was a absent father to Hastur, so he simply said, "Don't knock it till you try it."

Gabriel tilted his head slightly, the noise coming out to the hell spawns mouth sunk in like olive oil in a swimming pool, and it didn't feel right. "Okie dokie", He shuttered. The archangel took a step back his eyes beaming as he slowly realized he'd been standing next to the filth of the earth, the scum on his feet, a parasite, the list goes on. Hostilities danced around on his tongue, and he clenched his fist. But that was not the angelic way, he thought, God would have wanted Gabriel to just walk away, let evil do what it knows best, so without a further thought he vanished.

The quotable duke of hell turned to face Aziraphale. The whole of the world turning pale with Hastur slow jerking movement. Fear sat at the bottom of the pastel angel's stomach steeping into what only could be thought of as the stuff of nightmares. The ragged black eyed devil keeled before in him and spoke, "Do you believe in true love?"


He was mad, and heart broken, but more importantly he was very drunk. "What happened to the whole turn the cheek thingy", the demon yelled into the rolling green English moors, "Art thou suppose to love thine enemy!", Crowley wanted to throw a fire ball into the heavens. His ashen hands stinging with every conjuncture he tried to form, the flames slipping out with every pained movement. It made him feel powerless as he pulled another bottle of claret out of thin air. Perhaps if he could drown out all his worries the problems themselves wouldn't exist anymore. The pathetic mood made him chuckle, "I wonder what heaven drinks?", he thought out loud, "To make it think that I wouldn't exist anymore." Crowley took a sip, the cold liquid soothing his burnt throat. He took the time to get a good look at his surroundings.

The sun danced vibrantly over the quite English moors. Grass shifted back and forth making it appear like the slow sparkle off glitter. The cool blue sky hanging down like a soft warm blanket for who ever decided to take a nice afternoon outing. It was a godless place, the whole world was.

Crowley trudged until he got to a small dirt road. Something about it struck him as familiar. "B-b", the memory sputtered around on the tip of his serpent tongue then hit him like a +demon speeding in a Bentley ,"Bike girl! ", he yelled in a drunk slur, and the whole of hell began shambling down the road toward the small village of Tadfeild muttering the soft tune of Queen's bicycle.

The breeze wafted the faint scent of sage into the kitchen of a quite brick house. Lemonade slowly warmed up on the counter as the witch presided over a leather bound shadow tome. She was hypnotized by the faded chicken scratch when Newton stumbled in with a tray of cookies. Anathema smiled, "Hello, Newt". He placed the tray next to the book, and put his chin on her shoulder.

"Watcha-", Newt was cut off by a loud banging noise at the front door. They gave each other a questionable glance. Newt got up and went to the door, "It's probably the kids-", As he opened it a demonic figure poured.

"I need help", Moaned Crowley; the demon alcoholic mess melted into the cold floor of the quite cottage.

Chapter Text

His eyes fluttered open to the odd scent of burning sage. A Luke warm plate of cookies placed on his lap. "What happened?", Crowley groaned taking a look around the cottage.

"You tell me", Anathema held up a clear crystal aggressively, almost as if it was a sharp sword. He could never get passed the imagination of humanity. It made Crowley laugh.

"It's complex-"

"You're from the airbase", Newt interrupted, "There can't be anything more complicated than that. I mean, how do we know if this ain't the end of world again?"

"It's not", Crowley said shooting the earthly man a stern glance.

"What is it then", Anathema lowered the rock. She bit the side of her cheek looking for a set of words, her expression slowly molded itself to the small letters it found. The women took the broken demon's hand cupping it in between her own, "look", she said sternly, "We just want to help. How are we suppose to do that if we've got no idea what we're up against?"

The kindness dragged itself through Crowley; it's sting pulling every sad feeling he'd had carefully tucked away. He was pathetic asking humans for help, but how else was he going to find Aziraphale. His throat began to swell up as he chocked up, "It's Aziraphale". Hell, he going to cry. Crowley pulled himself up into a little ball knocking the plate of cookies into the floor, "They took him from me... T-they s-ssssaid t-t-that", he broke into a stammer.

Anathema and Newt stood in shock; None of them had any particular training in cooling hellfire. Newt crept in quietly, "Hey, hey it's okay", he hushed desperately looking at Anathema for help.

"Aziraphale", Anathema rambled, "That was the other man at the airbase, the one in white." She was grabbing at anything that popped into her head, Newt made frantic gesticulations as if the two of them could some how patch up the dam before the whole cottage flooded.

Crowley nodded, "He's an angel", his burnt body ached as he shifted tears rolling down his face, "The best one up there." He could see him standing there in the dim light of the boat. He could feel the soft sway of Aziraphale as Crowley twirled him. The pleasant memories reddened his eyes. Every piece of his demonic being shrieking to be let out. The low and soundless voice wanting him to give up. Aziraphale wouldn't have though, and Aziraphale was all Crowley had. He wiped his tears away with his shirt as he tried to pull himself together. The demon took a deep breath.

The cottage dwellers sighed in relief. Both of them glancing at each other nervously. Anathema spoke gently, "How can we help you".

"I need to find him", Crowley said shaking.

Anathema perked up, "I can't tell you where Aziraphale is", Anathema smiled as she got up and pulled a book from a shelve, it was light brown and had golden lettering on it's spine, "But perhaps he could." She flipped through the book till she found an ominous looking rune and turned it around to show Crowley.

"Summon him?"

"Well kind of", Anathema fearfully lifted it towards him.

Crowley grinned taking the book from her. He gazed intensively at the maze like picture on the front, a Metatron sigil, he had remembered Aziraphale talking about it; Some kind of angel rotary phone. "Why didn't I think about that", he yelled snapping his fingers. His body twisted and fizzed as the ash that covered him blew of in an evil breeze, "How could I ever thank you".

"By getting the hell out of here", Newt cried from the corner.

Crowley smiled, stooping to pick up one of the cookies off the floor. They where chocolate chip, and God did he love the taste of chocolate. "Cheers to that love", he said taking a bite. Deep down he hoped he would never see them again there was only so much that he felt comfortable with sharing. He fixed his glasses and wondered out the door. The cottage becoming quiet again as the evening came to claim it.

Chapter Text

A forest at the end of Tadfield hosted a patch of saturated damnation. On it was built a tiny village of imagination. The them had ruled over it for the last fourteen years, their king being Adam Young, but as Crowley sauntered peacefully along the shaded forest floor the kingdom lay silent. The demon saw a make shift throne of junk molded into the dirt. Adam, the son of darkness, deserved a better chair or at least that's what Crowley thought. It's modesty reflecting in the child. Aziraphale and him often thought about how the Antichrist was doing in highschool. However, this wasn't why he was here.

He walked on the evil ground until he came unto a clearing. It was lined with various metal baskets that Crowley could only think of were part a demonic ritual, Frisbee golf. The course lay still in the fading light. Crowley pulled the book from his coat, "Alright, let's see what we're dealing with", he leafed through the pages until he got to the Metatron sigil. Surprisingly it looked a lot like a satanist's day at the park with stars and circles, it even called for candles to be formed into a circle. "Kinky", Crowley grinned gazing up from the pages. Anticipation rose up into his fingertips, and they sparked as he formed his hand into a finger gun. The demon then shot an ember into the ground making a popping noise with his lips.

Crowley's eyes glowed as he traced the symbol into the grass. Candles rose up from the mud creating a flickering light over the golf course. "Looks about right", he sighed placing the book back into his coat. The demon closed his eyes. He was way over his head. Angel spells, what in the hell was he doing? Crowley gave a small smile; It was the only thing he could do. Aziraphale would do the same, and besides the demon got a laugh thinking about the angel hoovering over a pentagram. Crowley rolled up his shelves.

"Hello there", Crowley purred, "Daddy".

A bright white light brushed past him, twisting and pulsating until it sculpted itself into the face of a man. All the joy drained from Metatron's face his eyes fell onto the ruby red hair of Crowley. "Please call me Metatron", The disembodied face pleaded, "Metatron".

"Sorry Daddy", Crowley licked his lips watching the scribe slowly lose all hope in civil conversation, "I'm afraid I need your help."

Metatron stiffened up, his eyes almost launched themselves from there sockets. Crowley would have bet the angel almost fainted, "YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF MY PRESENCE LET ALONE MY HELP! I WOULD LITERALLY DIE BEFORE I'D BE OF AID!"

Crowley clicked his tongue. He'd been called worst. "Daddy, that's not at all the way to speak to a person", he mewed, "I was an angel after all."

"SO WAS LUCIFER, YOU FILTH", Metatron shouted into the empty darkness.

The demon shook his head, "That's right. You'd know a lot about angels, daddy", He grinned leaning forward, "I'm sure Gabriel has told you countless stories about demons too. I take you for the well rolled type."


"What?", Crowley lowered his glasses in astonishment, "Now why would he do that? Hell, Archangels must send a memo every now and then."

Metatron would admit he was getting old, he and God were the same age, but that didn't mean that the angel was any less important. The misty floating eyes looked deeply hurt as the gazed out onto the quite golf course. The face took a deep breath, "What are you playing at?"

"Oh, daddy, I thought you'd never ask", Crowley hummed. He was truly the master of manipulation, Satan would have been proud. "You see, your underlings are acting like devils; the way they treat their own kind."

"Heaven is a place of love", Metatron looked down onto the demon with a heaviness in his voice, "Angels are brother in arms."

"Not anymore. Not after what they've done with Aziraphale!"

"Hush, my child", quite the angel, "Aziraphale was burned for his crimes against God."

"AND I WAS DRENCHED, BUT I'M NOT A FUCKING DEMONIC BATH BOMB", Crowley ripped the glasses from his face, "YOU COULDN'T KILL US!"

"God forgave him", reasoned Metatron, "Just as God forgave you. Both of you rugrats were returned to earth, I see no foul."

"Then, God gave Gabriel permission to imprison Aziraphale?!", Crowley beamed back at the holy figure.

If their was any joy or hope left inside the old man it had left. The dark reality seeming to swell Metatron's features, and disappointment gleamed in his eyes, "Are you sure?"

"Just a hunch, Love, really", Crowley gave a sly smile, "If you would patch me through to him, I'm be happy to clear this whole mess up for you."

Metatron pursed his lips. He couldn't stand to think Gabriel, the angel of Monday, and one of his favorites would have done something like that. Metatron spoke very frankly, "You have one minute. If you call upon me again, I will gladly kill you myself".

The light that formed Metatron hissed and corrupted itself back into a mass of chaos before the gentle features of Aziraphale began to take shape. The angel blinked a couple times then stared into the dark night, "Is this a vision?", he asked frightfully.

"Would you be happier if it was?"

The angel lit up as his found the small imagine of the demon, "Crowley?! I though I'd never see you again. God I miss you-"

Crowley interrupted him, "Sorry, dear, but where the fuck are you?", he didn't want him to stop talking in fact he could have listened for eternity. The demon only had a minute; he wasn't going to fuck it up.

"Well Crowley, you're not going to like it, but ...", Aziraphale looked around him, "I'm on the moon... ."

"The moon?"

"Rightfully so: I can see the Earth", The angel shifted around in his divine shackles, "They've chained me to this cursed rock."

"I'd kinda like to see that...", Crowley flirted. The demon let the mental imagine slide around his brain for a moment before he snapped himself back into a purposeful mind set,"Whose they?"

Aziraphale blushed. "Gabriel and the demon, Hastur", Aziraphale said looking at something in the distance, "It's an odd pairing."

"Yes, odd Indeed", Metatron said as the image faded back to the old man, "Your minute is up." Crowley shook his head. How would be get on the moon? How was he going to defeat Hastur and Gabriel? The demon looked back up at Metatron. Everything seemed to create more questions than answer. Fire bubbled inside him like magma as he placed his shades careful on the brim of his nose. The voices in his head sung a collective song of shrieking worry. Metatron frowned, "Stay out of this dem-"

Crowley put a foot down and smudged the sigil. Then flipped off the horrified face of Metatron as it spiraled onto of existence. He laughed as he stared up at the pale moon that hung over the silent Frisbee golf course, "Sorry to keep you waiting, Love."