Chapter Text
It'd been a year since Aziraphale had seen Crowley. Or, rather, it'd been a year since Crowley had seen him. A year since they'd last spoken to each other. To Aziraphale, it almost felt like a century. Time passed so strangely in Heaven. He'd checked in on Crowley through the Earth observation files, he was glad the former demon was keeping himself occupied by assisting Muriel. Aziraphale himself had far too much work on his hands. He knew he should've expected the work as Supreme Archangel to be extensive, but he was quite shocked at the amount of it all. It could be quite overwhelming. He gritted his teeth. Sometimes he thought it'd be so much easier had Crowley come along with him. But, his love was lost to him now. Most of the time he got to himself was spent daydreaming about the ex-demon. He so desperately needed to speak to him, but the time never did arise. Every time he'd visited the bookshop for check-ins with Muriel, Crowley was conveniently not there.
Aziraphale was getting frantic. He was prolonging the inevitable, after all. Something was happening, something that even he didn't know about fully. It was always on the tip of his tongue, an idea he knew he should know, but it always got away from him. There was definitely something odd about the Metatron, but he couldn't divulge this with anyone. The Metatron was up to something, he was sure of it. Aziraphale had discovered something BIG. There was no one to tell his secrets to any longer. None of the other Archangels even liked him. They only listened to him now because he had authority. Every attempt he made at making suggestions on how he'd like things run would get ignored, the conversation steering towards the hypothetical Second Coming and his words then were lost to the rest of their talking session. Even when he went to think on his off feelings when he was alone, or when he'd get overly anxious about the thought of another potential Armageddon, his thoughts would pull themselves back onto the "proper" tracks and away from any stray thoughts. No, they wouldn't do this themselves, he realised, but they would do it in a way that he ought not to notice. He wouldn't have noticed, if it hadn't happened during important thinking sessions. If it hadn't happened when he'd been thinking of Crowley. He let out a breath, then flattened his suit jacket out with his hands. It was the same as always, but there was now a slight silvery sheen to it. Perhaps it was a perk of being an Archangel. Aziraphale didn't know. He miracled up a slip of paper, jotting down a note to Muriel as he waltzed over to the Earth portal. He sent the note alerting the new emissary of his impending arrival. He never liked to arrive unannounced, he'd so hated when Gabriel would appear out of nowhere and frighten the daylights out of him. And, Muriel seemed very appreciative of it. He waited for a few moments, then received their go ahead. He smiled. This was his favourite part, after all. Steadying himself, he touched the portal gently, then vanished.
Crowley was having a hard time, but he thought he was getting on fine despite everything. In the year since Aziraphale had gone, he'd moved back into his flat but still frequented the bookshop. Muriel needed help, and who better to than Hell's former emissary to Earth? It hadn't taken him long to befriend the angel, in fact it only took a single conversation about a week after Aziraphale had left, which went something along the lines of:
"Well, I could help you out."
"But you're a demon!"
"Former demon," he corrected. "And, this former demon has been here for 6000 years and is quite accustomed to human culture. You've only just arrived."
Muriel gave him an anxious look. "But, won't I get into trouble?"
"You shouldn't. We worked together to get into Heaven, didn't we?" Muriel nodded. "And, if your new boss has anything to say about it, I'll give him a few words. Shouldn't be leaving a first timer on their own on Earth, anyway."
Muriel seemed to think about this, then they relaxed their shoulders. "Well, I suppose it'll be alright, as long as you're helping me."
Crowley had beamed at this. Crowley had established immediately after that if Muriel had any questions, they were free to ask him. Even ones that Heaven wouldn't answer. Muriel had been pleased with this. They tended to ask menial questions, like what a toaster was or napkins, and all sorts of silly little things you'd expect from a supernatural entity who'd only ever lived their existence in Heaven. They reminded him of when he was younger, and even of Aziraphale. They were quite naive, but he almost found it endearing. Almost like teaching a child, he likened it to when he'd helped to raise Warlock or like when a mother bird teaches her chicks to fly. And, boy, was Muriel flying! They took very heavily to books, some of them books Crowley wouldn't dare touch.
"What's this one?" they'd asked, holding up some sort of fluffy romance novel. Crowley winced. It was one of Aziraphale's favourites, the angel was always a sucker for romance novels that Crowley could never stomach.
"Cheese. It's a cheesy romance novel." He stuck his tongue out in disgust. Muriel didn't quite understand the expression, but they were fascinated with the cover. They got to work at once reading it. About two days later, and approximately two weeks after Aziraphale had left, Crowley was lounging on his favourite chair in the bookshop when Muriel approached him slowly, a sheepish look upon their face.
"Mr. Crowley," they began, looking embarrassed. Crowley lifted an eyebrow, a wordless response that Muriel had caught onto in the first few days of knowing the former demon. "It's just, some of these human customs are so confusing to me. Would you be able to explain this bit to me?" They handed Crowley the book, indicating the passage they were talking about. Crowley skimmed through, the description of a complicated wedding spread across the pages.
He glanced up at Muriel. "You want me to explain the wedding, or?"
"Oh, no, not the wedding! That just sounds like a big party. I mean the marriage bit." Crowley's eyes widened and Muriel looked even more embarrassed. "I mean, obviously I know what marriage is and I know that God favours it but I don't really understand why humans are so fond of it."
Crowley took a breath, trying to figure out how to explain it properly. "Well, humans like to get married because they like being committed to each other. It's like, agreeing to be in a partnership with the person you care about the most."
Muriel seemed to ponder this for a moment, then brightened. "Oh!" they exclaimed. "It's like you and Aziraphale!"
Crowley's face immediately flushed. He couldn't believe they'd just said that!
"No! No, it's not like me and Aziraphale!" Crowley tossed the book down onto the floor. Pain sliced through him as he buried his face into his hands. "It's just a complicated human thing, that's all." His face was beet red. He couldn't get cross with them. After all, he'd given them permission to ask him questions if they'd wanted. And, even if he wanted to deny it, it was a fact that both of their respective sides had seen them as something together. He'd wished for that more than anything. He looked up at Muriel, who was still standing there, though they looked slightly more embarrassed than they had prior.
"I suppose I should keep reading it, to learn more about it myself."
Crowley nodded as they picked the book up. "Quite right. You keep filling your noggin up with human stuff and you'll be an expert in no time." Muriel beamed at that, wandering back to their corner of the bookshop. They'd taken quite a liking to Aziraphale's sofa on that side. Crowley let out a breath. While he'd taken a liking to this inquisitive angel, he wished Aziraphale was there to help teach them about the world. He'd have enjoyed it, he always spoke so fondly about their time raising Warlock.
He let out a breath, letting the emotions flow through him, until he was left staring out the window. A tuft of blonde hair caught his eye in the crowd walking by outside. A bow-tie here, tartan clothes there. He blinked and shook his head. Aziraphale wasn't coming back for him. The months would pass by, every so often Muriel would get a little slip of paper announcing a check-in from Aziraphale. Each time, Crowley had quickly removed himself from the shop until he could no longer feel Aziraphale's presence. Muriel always would talk his ear off about things Aziraphale would say to them. He feigned annoyance at this but he was grateful to hear anything about the angel, so long as nothing horrible was happening to him.
Today, however, marked the one year anniversary since Aziraphale had left. Since they'd last spoken to each other. And, despite it being the spot of their demise, he couldn't help but spend the day in the bookshop. He was sorting through some of Aziraphale's old files, and what appeared to be old diaries. He was getting to a really juicy retelling of the Edinburgh incident of 1827 when Muriel came bustling toward him.
"Mr. Crowley," they murmured.
He startled slightly, looking up at them with a crooked eyebrow. "You can just call me 'Crowley', you know."
"He's on his way."
Crowley felt the urge to run, to bolt out of the shop and to get away as far as possible.
But, he hesitated. "I'm going to stay," he stated.
Muriel gaped at him. "Are you sure? I don't want-"
"You don't have to worry about it, I'll hide in the back where he can't see me." Muriel started to wring their hands together, anxiously. "And, if he does see me, I'll just go like I usually do." Crowley fidgeted slightly. "It's not like I miss him or anything." That was a blatant lie. "I'm just incredibly nosy." Muriel seemed to relax slightly, then shooed him to the back. They trotted out with slight confidence then straightened out their suit jacket.
Crowley hid in the back, in a place where he could see the door but anyone who stood there wouldn't be able to see him. The place where Aziraphale would be standing. A sudden burst of angelic presence nearly rocked the bookshop at its foundation and suddenly Aziraphale was there. He was shining, Crowley was almost floored by how gorgeous he was. He shook his head. No, that wasn't Aziraphale. Aziraphale wasn't some silver, shining, ethereal CEO who looked like he was wrapped in silver foil. Aziraphale was soft and golden. But, there he was, all the same, standing right where Crowley could see him. Where Crowley could see him, where Crowley could feel his presence, where Crowley could reach out and hold him, and never let go and they'd never be apart again and-
"So sorry, my dear, for the sudden check-in," Aziraphale spoke softly. "I've been up to my head with work and I have something I urgently need to speak to you about."
"Oh, it's not a problem at all." Muriel did a sort of polite bow towards their superior, Crowley could feel their anxiety rolling through the shop like a wave. He almost laughed at the idea that anyone could be intimidated by Aziraphale. Even with his newfound Archangel status, Aziraphale was still the same curly haired angel that was terrified of Falling, the same wide-eyed magician who'd anxiously performed on the West End, the same angel who-
"Have you spoken to Crowley lately?" Muriel resisted the urge to move their head back towards where Crowley was hiding. They kept their attention on Aziraphale, though their hands balled into fists. Aziraphale was looking around, as if he could sense something, then he shook his head.
"I have, but he's not here right now."
Aziraphale looked disappointed. "Do you know where he might be? It seems he's never here whenever I check-in with you." Muriel shook their head. Aziraphale once again seemed to be sensing something. Crowley held his breath, waiting for the moment the angel would acknowledge his presence and then he'd have to make a run for it. "Could you pass along a message to him? Can you tell him I desperately need to talk to him?" Crowley's eyes glistened. Aziraphale, Archangel Aziraphale, his angel Aziraphale, wanted to talk to him. He almost flew out of his hiding space right there, he imagined doing so. He'd stretch his arms out to embrace the angel, and they'd talk and everything would be fine again and then they could finally go off together and it'd be just like the old times-
No. No! He was NOT going to be the one to initiate this. Aziraphale was the one who hadn't spoken to him in a year. If he really wanted to speak to him, he knew where the former demon was at. He could've sent Crowley a little note, could've appeared anywhere Crowley was in the last year if he really wanted to. But, he hadn't. Crowley slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. He watched as Aziraphale concentrated again, it seemed that he'd been able to focus properly on what he'd been able to sense and he slowly turned his gaze to where Crowley had been hiding. As soon as Aziraphale's eyes locked with his, Crowley was gone. He re-materialized outside of the bookshop, his eyes beginning to water up. Why was that so difficult? Aziraphale had been right there, had said he'd needed to talk to Crowley, but all the former demon could do was run away. He wiped the now rolling tears off his face with his sleeve, a quiet sob escaping his mouth. He waited a few more moments, until Aziraphale's presence vanished, and thus he returned to the bookshop. Muriel was standing near the doorway, not having moved since Aziraphale left.
They met Crowley's eyes and led him back to his favourite chair. "Archangel Aziraphale saw you." Crowley nodded, trying to hide his tears. "He said he really does have something important to talk about, but he couldn't explain it. Something was weird." Muriel sat down on the floor next to the chair.
"He should've come to me himself if he wanted to talk."
"He said, 'Something's happening in Heaven', but then he stopped, and then he left."
Crowley narrowed his eyes slightly at this, then let out a breath. "Aziraphale's the Supreme Archangel now, I'm sure he can handle it." A part of him was worried about this, another part was angry. They couldn't stop Heaven if Aziraphale was a part of it! And, if something awful was happening, they'd of been able to solve it together. They did the last two times. He gritted his teeth. He loved Aziraphale, of course he did, but he wouldn't forget the past year. The past year where his 'holiness' couldn't even bother to contact Crowley. The past year the former demon had spent agonizing over the thought that Aziraphale wanted nothing to do with him. The thought that Aziraphale didn't like him for who he was.
The tears began to roll down his face again, but this time they were both sad and angry. "If Aziraphale needs to talk to me, then he can come to me himself."