Chapter Text
When I was young and stupid
My love left to be a rock and roll star
He told me, “Please don’t worry.”
Wise little smile that spoke so safely
Aziraphale does a double take. It couldn’t be. Could it? It’d been nearly a decade since he’d seen him last. Since he’d driven him to the airport and pretended that everything was going to be ok. He nearly spills his cappuccino as his gaze follows that shock of red hair across the café. And of course it’s him. No one else walks like that. Like his hips are a suggestion instead of actual anatomy. Aziraphale curses at his own heart as his pulse speeds up. Frowns at the somersaults happening in his gut.
He isn’t sure if he should run to or away from him. His heart wants to do both. And it kills him that he’s still not over him. That he still hasn’t moved on. That every man he brings into his bed is measured against him. And every one of them falls short in every possible way. Aziraphale hesitates as he watches him find a table. As he sits their eyes meet. And he smiles. And Aziraphale knows that he never had any other choice. His feet move before he can stop them.
“Mind if I join you?”
He gestures to the seat across from him. “Not at all.”
Aziraphale sits. Fiddles with his drink. “You look good, Crowley. Life’s treating you well?”
He leans back in his seat. Sprawls. Sips his coffee. “Well enough.”
“On tour?”
“Moving back.”
Aziraphale’s eyes snap up from his drink. “Oh?”
“Taking time for myself. Was never really happy out there.”
Aziraphale frowns. “You looked happy. Online. On TV.”
Crowley sets his drink on the table and leans forward. “Well… You see, right when I started to make a name for myself the love of my life broke my heart. Guess he didn’t trust me.”
He looks away. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all. It crushes him to know that’s what Crowley thought all these years. His trust never faltered. He feels small when he opens his mouth again. “I never…” He takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t about you.”
“I’d say it very much concerned me when I called you to celebrate the record deal and you dumped me.”
Aziraphale cringes. “I didn’t want to tie you down.”
Crowley looks away too. “Tie me down?”
“You were going to be something. And I was just a bookseller. Crowley, I couldn’t clip your wings like that.”
He taps his foot under the table. He looks torn between anger and heartbreak. “You were never clipping my wings, Angel. You were my wings.”
“Crowley, don’t…”
“I never got over you. Never. Wrote three albums about you.”
Aziraphale finally lifts his gaze. He wishes he were stronger. That he could keep the quiver out of his voice as he spoke. “Don’t say that. Not here. Not now.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because it makes me want to do something stupid.”
Crowley leans even further forward. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Aziraphale doesn’t regret it. Not entirely at least. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t ache for those ten years and what could have been. And he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can make up for lost time. He hesitates. He knows what his heart wants, but he doesn’t know that he should listen. He leans across that rickety café table and just before their lips touch Crowley smiles again. And Aziraphale knows that he never had any other choice.