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“I hope I didn’t stress you out too much,” Aziraphale stalled, shutting the door behind Crowley. “What with the…” He gestured vaguely.
“Ten calls in two minutes?” Crowley snarked, scanning the bookshop he’d just entered for signs of Hell, Heaven, or any other equally distressing anomaly. Nothing seemed especially out of order, though he couldn’t help sneering at Gabriel’s abandoned mug on a windowsill. Admittedly, his presence wasn’t sitting well with Crowley, even though it’d been a few weeks since he turned up and he showed no outward signs of aggression.
“Quite.”
Somewhat satisfied that the building was all in one piece, Crowley faced Aziraphale again and raised a forcibly nonchalant eyebrow to prompt him. Aziraphale stood by the door, wringing his hands nervously and building up the courage to speak. Once he opened his mouth to finally break the silence, he quickly snapped it shut and paced to the window.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley huffed. He’d started lowering the blinds, muttering something about his neighbours’ already untoward opinion of him not needing to be exasperated.
“Right. Well.” Aziraphale made his way to his desk, gathered his bearings, and cleared his throat. “I thought I ought to tell you. When Gabriel first arrived, he said something funny. To paraphrase, it was… ‘I don’t know anything at all, but I knew everything would be better if I was just with you.’ Now, at the time, I told him I’ve never felt anything like that at all, but… I was lying, you see. I have felt that. I do feel that.”
For the second time in his existence, Crowley felt truly nauseated. Instantly, his hands went clammy, his stomach turned, and his whole being must have increased in temperature by five degrees. It was worse than the time with oysters, though, because now his head was swimming, too, entirely encompassed with ‘ Aziraphale is in love with the Archangel Gabriel .’
Aziraphale’s hopeful smile dimmed slightly. “Are you alright, dear? You look a bit green.”
“Tip-top,” Crowley croaked. “I just. Er. I don’t…”
What remained of Aziraphale’s smile vanished. He drummed his fingers on his desk and stared down at them.
“I see.” Suddenly, he straightened up with a new resolve. “That’s perfectly alright. I just don’t want anything to change between us, despite how you feel.”
Crowley felt his cheeks burn with shame and clenched his fists uselessly at his sides. Sure, Aziraphale had good intentions with giving him a heads up about his new relationship , but he didn’t have to rub Crowley’s affection for him in his face while he did so.
“Not sure that’s possible. Might not hang around here as much,” Crowley muttered darkly.
“Ah.” Aziraphale swallowed and averted his eyes from Crowley’s. “I won’t stop you, but I certainly hoped… Well, never mind what I’d hoped. You are my dearest friend, Crowley, before anything else.”
Crowley snorted humorlessly. Being friendzoned, as the kids say, and he hadn’t even asked for it. “Right.”
Aziraphale’s chin wobbled. Good , Crowley forced himself to think, let him suffer . But all he felt was guilt. “Crowley, you’re being cruel.”
“ I’m -?” Crowley yelped, but reined himself in before he gave too much of himself away. “I’d better go.”
“If you’d like.”
Crowley didn’t move. Instead, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “How long?”
Aziraphale let out a mournful sigh. “Quite some time, I’d say, but I didn’t really know until London. The business with the Nazis.” He smiled sadly. “You saved my books.”
Whatever that meant. Crowley felt the distinct urge to flee and nap for one hundred years. How could he have possibly missed this for nearly a century?
“Fine, then,” he mumbled, then turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.
The street was quiet. Dark. The only light on the block came from the coffeeshop. Crowley hoped Nina and Maggie were having better luck with their pining than he was.
The Bentley was illuminated by a lamppost, unnatural light reflecting off the waxy leaves of his cramped plants. He didn’t really have anywhere to go, but he wouldn’t mind taking a drive.
He thought for a moment.
Crowley spun around and walked back into the bookshop. “What does that have to do with Gabriel?”
Aziraphale jumped at the sudden noise and swiped at his wet eyes. “Sorry?”
“I saved your books.” Crowley barrelled past the whole made my angel cry thing, otherwise he’d likely never move on from it. “What does that have to do with Gabriel?”
Aziraphale’s kicked-puppy-look morphed into utter confusion. “Nothing?”
Truly, Crowley tried his best to remain calm, but his brain felt like it was on fire and melting out of his ears. Or something. “I blow up a church. You forget about the books. I don’t forget about the books. You fall in love. Yes?”
“Awfully simplified, but sure.”
“So where does Gabriel fit in?” Crowley cried.
“He doesn’t!” Aziraphale cried right back.
Crowley paused. Perhaps their wires had crossed. He pursed his lips and took a slow breath.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?!”
“ I’m talking about how long you’ve been in love with Gabriel!” Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s expression turned to abject horror. “Which… is ridiculous, isn’t it.”
“How could you possibly think that ?”
“You said it! You said he - he professed his love, or whatever, and that you feel the same!”
“No, I - Well, yes, I said that, but I wasn’t talking about him !”
“Then who the fuck-”
“I was talking about you !”
Crowley shut his mouth. The room fell silent, save for their laboured breathing. Arguing was a lot of work, really.
“Ahgk,” Crowley said intelligently. There was a lot he wanted to say. I love you, too , was probably the best option. Briefly, he considered just striding across the room and kissing him, but he didn’t want to go too fast. In an act of pure brilliance, Crowley’s mouth decided for him. “You were not!”
The corners of Aziraphale’s lips quirked up. “I beg to differ.”
“You can’t love me. I’m…” Crowley trailed off. He wasn’t a demon, really. Not anymore. Though he’d stopped himself from saying it, Aziraphale still narrowed his eyes, suggesting he knew exactly what Crowley planned to say and wasn’t happy with it.
“Don’t you start with that.”
“Alpha Centauri!”
Aziraphale gaped, utterly exasperated. “What of it?”
“You didn’t want to come with me!”
“Are you intentionally speaking in riddles?”
“You’re telling me you didn’t know what I was really saying? ‘Run away with me. Anywhere you want to go. Just the two of us?’”
Aziraphale sniffed. “I… suspected. After the fact, that is.”
“And?”
“ And ,” Aziraphale continued incredulously. He inhaled through his nose and relaxed his shoulders. Then, delicately, he spoke. “It was a stupid plan.”
Crowley exploded. “ Your plan was ‘Talk to God!’”
Unable to comprehend the situation any longer, a disbelieving, irritated, absolutely adoring laugh bubbled out of Aziraphale.
Crowley was perfectly content to bear witness to such a beautiful sight. Aziraphale wiped a finger under his eyes as hysterical tears slipped out, and Crowley couldn’t help but snicker, too. The whole mess was quite ridiculous, really.
“You love me,” Crowley grinned.
“I do .” Aziraphale’s cheeks were rosy and his eyes bright.
Crowley scratched the back of his hand. He sniffed.
“Now’s the part where you reciprocate,” Aziraphale supplied helpfully.
“You read too much Jane Austen,” Crowley snarked, but there was no malice behind it. “If I start talking, I might not stop.”
“I have time.” Aziraphale was incredibly smug for someone who’d been convinced his feelings weren’t returned not ten minutes prior. Which was a rather troubling thought, now that he thought about it.
“I made you think I didn’t.”
“And I led you to believe that I… That I loved - Oh, I can’t even say it.” Aziraphale flapped a hand, waving away his concern. “Let’s call it even, hm?”
Crowley nodded, then tapped his hand against his leg anxiously and took a step closer. “And you’re sure?”
“Oh, my dear, I have never been more sure of anything.”
Then, well. Grabbing Aziraphale by the collar and kissing him like his life depended on it was actually a pretty safe bet.