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The door clicked shut, silently, as if it too held its breath, afraid of making even the slightest noise.
Blood rushed through his head, almost loud enough to drone out the thumping of his heart, or the devastating silence Crowley left behind.
His breath shuddered, as the first tears ran down his cheeks, and Aziraphale clutched his dress shirt in an iron fist, vision blurring in front of him.
Why couldn’t he see? Why wouldn’t- why didn’t he agree?
It would keep them safe!
He could be the Archangel supreme! He! A simple Principality! He was finally in Heaven's favor again and Crowley- Crowley just.. left him? Like this? After the amazing deal Aziraphale got for him?
Why couldn’t he understand?
Why couldn’t-
We don’t need Heaven, we don’t need Hell. They’re toxic. We need to get away from them, just be an ‘us’.
But they- but they weren’t toxic, certainly not! Hell, yes, he could see that one, agreed to it even. But Heaven? Heaven was the good guys! It wasn’t- it wasn’t toxic, or any-
This is the supreme Archangel of all Heaven, your former boss, who tried very hard to cast you into hellfire and destroy you!
But that was just- that was Gabriel, surely one corrupted angel couldn’t mean they were all bad?
Don’t think your boyfriend in the dark glasses will get you special treatment in hell. He’s in trouble too.
Aziraphale pressed shaking hands on his ears, hands buried in white locks.
Heaven was the good guys. Heaven had to be the good guys! It had always been like that!
A single thought had him stop, had him take a breath and sit back, wondering-
‘ But what does it matter anymore.. if the one person who’s on my side isn’t here anymore?’
Without Crowley.. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to do without Crowley. The two had been together since the beginning of time, since before the stars set light to the sky.
Aziraphale had left the heaven shortly after Crowley fell, and after that, they had been in Eden.. And even when they had just set foot on Earth, no matter where or how far away the demon was, Aziraphale had always been able to feel his presence, like a comfortable shield in his neck.
Going to heaven without Crowley?
His eyes jumped through the bookshop, from one knick knack to the next, one stack of books to another.
The demon was right, he would miss it, terribly so.
He would miss so many things, he, the angel that had gone native on earth, that had blended in too good, became one of them, in a sense..
He would miss his books and sushi, Ninas coffee shop, the park, the music, alcohol and sweet treats.. The theater, the movies..
So many of those things he had enjoyed with he redhead- had found enjoyment in thanks to Crowley, because the demon introduced them to him, showed him how to live his time on earth to the fullest! How- How was he supposed to enjoy them without him here anymore?
No more alcoholic breakfasts at the Rizz, no more late night meetings where they drunk more than safely consumable for a normal human being, no more strolls through the park, no more coffee dates.. No more arguing over Crowley’s plants, no more reading books together.. No more..
No more Crowley.
He stumbled back a few steps, hands reaching behind to keep himself upright against a bookshelf.
Soho’s angel closed his eyes, overcome with a grief that felt too heavy to bear for him alone.
Distinctly he heard the door to his shop open, heard the little bell dingle away. But Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to care, because-
Because he had let him walk away.
He had hurt him, hurt him so much- his best friend, his only real friend, his Crowley, his demon..
He had chosen heaven over him- again . A heaven that didn’t care for him, a heaven that wanted him gone , wanted him dead !
Oh Crowley.. Nothing lasts forever.
Why in heavens name had he said that??
Aziraphale let his head fall back against the bookshelf.
And the sad part, the thing that felt like a slab to the face? Was the fact that there had been no anger, no fury whatsoever. There was resignation on Crowley’s face, sadness, acceptance, disappointment..
And a tiredness that made him look even older than he was. He was exhausted. More exhausted than a being like them should ever be.
The way he had begged him- Tell me you said no! Tell me, Angel.. Tell me you said no.. - Aziraphale had never heard him this desperate, this confused and lonely, like his whole reality, his whole life had just been shattered in front of his eyes.
Like 6000 years of friendship had just been thrown out the window, like whatever could have been between them got stomped out before it had a chance to fully bloom..
Like his best friend, his only friend, had just broken his heart.
In a way, he would’ve felt better if Crowley had at least slammed the door on his way out, if the kiss that still tingeled on his lips had been painful or unwanted or- or anything, really, anything that could make him justifiably angry at Crowley, or mad even, anything but this, this pain and-
And he had let him go, let him walk out of the bookshop, let him turn around and storm off, too overwhelmed by everything, by Crowley’s confession, by the- the kiss-
Shaking hands instinctively went to his mouth, touching the tender spot where he could still feel the others lips pressed against his own, and the pain in his heart doubled, his heartbeat racing.
His head felt fuzzy, like an evening with too many glasses of wine, like that time in the 70s when they went to that special café, like he had just lost his best friend.
Aziraphale opened tired eyes, and looked to the ceiling, trying to will the tears to stop, until movement in front of him directed his gaze there.
The Metatron stood there, in his stupid coat, and the angel could see the smile, could see the satisfaction in his eyes, had to blink a few times to get his eyes to focus on him.
There it was then, the reason the best thing in his whole existence had stormed out of the door, and for the first time in a long time, the angel felt anger, real anger, for another being.
“How did he take it?”, the Voice of God questioned, and Aziraphale wanted to scoff at the barely hidden glee, wanted to throw him out for the way he looked around the shop, as if he didn’t already know he wouldn’t find anything, as if he didn’t know he was gone.
“Not well.”, he mumbled, a polite smile on his face that felt more like a grimace.
“Ah well,”, the Metatron shrugged, “he always wanted to go his own way.”
He nodded along, the words dull and distant under the roaring in his ears.
Crowley had looked so pained, as if his refusal to run away together had physically hurt him, and Aziraphael couldn't get his eyes out of his head, or the wobble in his voice, or-
You idiot. We could’ve been us.
Oh, how he wanted to believe in something like that, how he wanted to believe in a happy ending for them, in a world where he would get to hug Crowley freely, where they wouldn’t have to hide, where they could just be, could just exist together. He yearned for it, wanted nothing more than what Beelzebub and Gabriel had taken for themselves in the blink of an eye.
And maybe.. maybe they could even kiss again, properly this time, and he could even kiss back and-
Aziraphale let his head hand, eyes closing automatically against the pain in his chest.
There was no next time. There would never be a next time.
‘We don’t have a side anymore, Angel.’, the demon had said, years ago. ‘We’re on our own side now.’
The redhead had always been there for him, no matter what, he was there, ready to help him out, no questions asked.
Nervous fingers played around with each other, knotting themselves together again and again, until he felt an impatient hand peel him off the bookshelf he leaned against.
‘I need you!’ , he had whispered, in the same voice he had used the last time, back when it was ‘ Come up with something! Or I’ll never talk to you again!’
And Crowley had made the impossible possible, because that’s just who he was. He would move the mountains for Aziraphale and the angel? He wondered just how he had overlooked all of that, how he had managed to screw up this badly.
I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want.
All this time, he had assumed, written it off as Crowley having been an angel once, assumed that his kindness came from some part in his heart, where some part of that good person, that angel, was still left.
Oh, how stupid he had been.
Distantly, he felt the Metatron pull him along, heard him talk, but Aziraphale couldn’t muster up the energy to listen.
Crowley was no angel. Crowley was.. too good to be an angel, too nice, too giving. And he also wasn't a demon, not a regular demon at least. He was.. He was Crowley, and honestly, wasn’t that enough?
But oh, it had been the perfect solution for them, to be together, to really be together- and he would be an Archangel! Wouldn't it just be ever so lovely?
He heard the bell ding over his head, felt his arm graze the doorframe and it was enough to bring him back to himself.
Out of reflex, or maybe it was the same pull that had always pulled them towards the other, Aziraphale let his head lull to the right, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on Crowley’s.
Subconsciously, the angel straightened up a bit, as much as he could bring himself to.
Crowley stood there, leaned against the Bentley, and Aziraphale knew if he would shed the glasses there'd be tears pooling into those beautiful eyes.
His leg was twitching, a nervous habit Crowley had picked up in the first few centuries on earth, but he stayed perfectly still, waiting, watching over him, until he would disappear into the elevator, sealing their fate, breaking the thing between them further than could ever be repaired.
And maybe it was the way his lips wobbled, for just the blink of an eye, before he pulled himself together, or the way his hands were balled to fists at his side, that made Aziraphale actively stop, ignoring the Metatron’s curious glance, and his annoyed whispers.
Their eyes met and locked, through the sunglasses, over the few dozen people that stood between them, and his heart stopped for a few beats.
He really loved him. Didn't he?
Crowley had been there for all of his existence, his lowest and his highest points, had been there to save him or encourage him, push or pull him, whatever it was he needed in the moment.
He had given everything for Aziraphael.
He was an angel, and no matter what happened, as long as he didn’t fall, he still had a side to go back to, but.. but Crowley didn't have that, he didn't have a flat anymore or a house, the only thing he had were his plants and his Bentley- Hell didn't operate like Heaven.
He had saved Aziraphale, countless times, when he wasn't allowed to perform any miracles, when he got another one of those strongly worded letters or-
He shuddered.
When they had come to visit, the angels, to check up on him, to keep a closer eye on him and his too curious nature.
They had seen the creation of the universe together and Aziraphael.. Aziraphael really wanted to see the end of it with him too, together.
What was he even doing here.
He didn't even want to be an Archangel- he didn’t even want to go back to Heaven!
Just imagine all the paperwork-all the work in general that he would have to do! And Muriel, bless her heart, what if she started.. selling.. his wonderful books?
And Nina and Maggie- he couldn't just leave them now! Not when they finally started to go somewhere!
And Crowley.. the phantom touch of lips on his, of a hand on his back, an arm around his shoulders, a knuckle sliding down his cheek, hands intertwined with his, or the weight of a snake on his lap or over his shoulder, wrapped around his neck or tucked into his side on cold days..
Sweet, wonderful Crowley, who sometimes went too fast for him, who yelled at people to feed the ducks the right thing, who still sent young Warlock a card and a call for every missed birthday (and also send them to Adam too, but you didn’t hear that from him), who'd gotten him out of France, out of the Blitz, literally saved his entire existence- not once, but twice!
He couldn't.. He couldn't leave him.
Aziraphael shut his eyes tight for a moment, overcome by emotions. All of their bickering, their fights, their dancing, the drinking, the late night talks, the debates, the encouragements, the favors..
He couldn't- couldn't give all of that up, couldn't lose all of that.
Not for a job position he didn't even want, not when all he wanted was here, in Soho, in his comfortable, little bookshop, in the Bentley and- and in the demon that stood next to it.
Oh, to bloody hell with it all!
He turned around to the Metatron, smiled, as politely as it was possible in that moment.
"I am very sorry, my good- uhm, well, voice." not his strongest start, but better than nothing "I am- am terribly sorry. But I actually have to decline.. your offer, I mean."
The Metatron said nothing, looked at him with eyes that seemed to be older than the universe itself. And right now, those eyes were angry.
"Why?", he eventually questioned, a certain cold into their voice that reminded Aziraphale why he didn't like to physically be in heaven anymore.
He forced a smile that even to him felt like the fakest thing ever. "You see. I have my- my bookshop and-"
The Metatron rolled his eyes. "I think to remember that I have told you that Muriel will take care of-"
"Yes. Yes, I think. But also I- I do not.. want to?", he cut the voice of God off, gesturing with his hands as if that would make his point clearer- or any easier to convey, for that matter.
Nervously, he looked around, until his eyes caught Crowleys, who obviously noted his distress and jitteriness. He knew him the best after all.
The second their eyes locked, Aziraphael felt a wave of calm wash over him.
It would be fine.
Everything would be fine, as long as the redhead kept looking at him like this, like he was the most important thing to him.
The Metatron was saying something, but Aziraphael paid him no mind, took an extra second to send Crowley a barely there smile, before he turned back towards the Voice and cut him off.. again .
“I’m quite terribly sorry, Mr. Metatron- sir- voice? Doesn’t matter.”, he blabbered, scooting a step or two back, pulled his arm out of his grip with a hefty tug. “But I must decline. You see, I already have plans for the next few years and I’m afraid I will not be able to move them- or- or cancel them, for that matter.”
For one frightening second, it looked as if he wanted to hold him back, grab his arm and pull him back to heaven, before he leaned his head back and stared into the clouds, where, as the angel knew, God themselves sat somewhere, talking to their.. Voice?
And a few seconds they just stood there, Aziraphael unable to turn his eyes away, until his head sunk again and his eyes landed on Soho’s angel, furious eyes, but also resigned ones.
“You have some very, very convincing and strong people behind you, Angel.”, he pressed out between gritted teeth. “You are blessed, by the Almighty themself. I am not to intervene, neither is a different angel for that matter and- oh for- where are you looking? Are you even listening to me?!”
“Mh? Oh- Oh! Yes- yeah, yes sure, of course I am. Blessing and interventions and all that. Tippy top. Is that- is that all?”
His eyes hushed back and forth, between the Metatron and a Crowley, who was no longer leaned against the Bentley, who had stood up straight the second Aziraphael turned around, who had taken his glasses off, showed Aziraphael those unique eyes that he loved so incredibly much.
With a huff, the Metatron disappeared and a certain angel fully turned around, a jittery feeling in his stomach when he locked eyes with the demon across the street.
How even after everything that he had done, after all the pain Crowley went through thanks to him, how the demon could still look at him like that.. Aziraphale might never understand it.
“Oh will you come here already?”, he told the other, knowing he could hear him even through the distance between them.
And quicker than their bodies should be capable of, Crowley stood in front of him, staring down at him, face closed off for everyone but him, who knew the demon better than himself sometimes. He could see the nervousness, the lingering hope, fighting with resignation.
“I think you missed your ride home.”, he bumbled and Aziraphale smiled and shook his head, never breaking the eye contact.
His hands twitched at his sides and, gathering up all his courage- and more of which he wasn’t even aware he possessed-, he reached out and took Crowley’s in his, eased the fists up and intertwined them, slowly, carefully.
He couldn’t ignore, couldn’t pretend not to see the shimmer of hope in those eyes, in his whole face, and he squeezed the demon's hands, once, twice.
“I think I did.”, he answered, a gentle smile on his face. “But thankfully I caught you in time before you could drive off. Really lucky, don’t you think?”
“Okay, drop the spiel. What’s going on, Aziraphale?”
He dropped Crowleys hands, just for a second, before he picked one of them up again and pulled the demon behind him in the bookshop. He was glad the other cooperated, knew perfectly well that if he didn’t want to move, there was no force in Heaven or Hell that could move him.
Inside, a single glance was enough to have Muriel scatter out, two books under her arm, probably off to Miss Nina’s coffee shop to ‘read’.
The shop locked the door on its own and rolled the blinds down, and Aziraphael couldn’t be more grateful for the old building, absolutely unwillig to part even one of his hands from Crowley’s.
He turned to the demon, who seemed to look at everything but him, which sucked, because Aziraphale really, really , wanted to feel his eyes on him right now.
“Crowley? Dear, please look at me.” Only when he did as he was asked, did Aziraphale smile again and continued in a soft tone, heart beating so loud he wondered if Crowley could hear it. “You- you wanted to tell me something? Earlier? Can we- can we pick back up there? Right when I came back inside? I want to.. I want to hear it, again. If you will? I want you to speak first please.”
Crowley’s eyebrow raised and the angel knew he was about to decline, but 6000 years were enough to learn exactly how to push someone’s buttons. Especially if they were as easy to push as the demon’s.
“Please, Crowley”
For two whole seconds nothing happened, until the redhead growled quietly, shook his head and cursed under his breath, before looking down at him, too many emotions to count flashing through his eyes.
“I uh. I said a lot of things, angel.”
“And I would love to hear them all again.”
Crowley threw his head back, grumbling, and let go of Aziraphale’s hand, defaulting to pacing back and forth in front of the angel.
“Okay. Okay here we go. You can do this. You said it before. You can say it again.”, he muttered to himself and Aziraphale had to bite down on his lips to keep himself from smiling.
Such a drama queen, his demon.
When Crowley turned back around to face him, his breath stocked, and his heart burst at the look on his face, the hesitancy, the fear, the open and pure love he could see there, hidden beneath desperation and a thick, thick, layer of self-doubt and pain and-
Had he been the one to put that there?
His fingers twitched, but Aziraphael kept them firmly at his side.
“Angel, we, uh- we've known each other. For a, uh, long time now. And we’ve, well, you know, we’ve always been together.” And Crowley seemed to relax a bit, soften, just a bit, at the edges. “And I trust- you and you trust me too. And I don’t.. uuugh, I mean, we spent thousands of years, denying this- this- this thing and I, ngk I just- I don’t wanna spend the rest- of our existence doing the same?”
“Oh, Crowley.. I’m not a fan of change, you know that. But-” And it was his turn now, to finally let go of the walls, to finally, finally , give into the push he had been feeling ever since that night in the Blitz, the push and pull that had connected them from the very first moment he had found him, back when Crowleyhad made the stars appear. “-but I think sometimes, it is necessary.”
His eyes softened and an angel reached out, took the hands of a demon in his, and held on. Even when fear and uncertainties tried to swallow him whole. Because Crowley had given and given and given everything of his, and it was his turn to finally give him something back.
“I meant what I said, Dear.”, Aziraphael whispered, in a voice shaky with nerves. “I need you.”
He heard Crowleys breath stock, felt his heart skip a beat, saw the pain and the hope and the longing shine in those wonderful eyes of his.
“I want that, what you said earlier, wanted it for.. A while, now. I want to be this ‘ us’ with you and-”, he cleared his throat to get rid of the knot he felt forming. “- I want to be on our side. You and me, right? I don’t- I don’t want to lie to you, Crowley, there is a lot of, uhm, baggage, I suppose you could call it, that I need to work through, but.. I don’t want to go to Heaven, not if it’s without you.”
And he could see it, could see the resolve crumble, could see the walls break down around his demon, feel his hands shake slightly in his steady ones, and-
“Oh angel..”
And then suddenly Crowley was pulling him closer and wrapped his arms around the slightly shorter angel, and held on, and Aziraphael only took a second to sink into the embrace, to really, truly relax against the demon, before he sneaked his arms around the other and tightened his hold, held on for dear life, for all the time that they had lost, for all the times they had almost lost each other, to stupid decisions, to stupid sides, to stupid heaven and stupid hell alike.
And the world around them crumbled away, disappeared into nothingness, not important, not interesting, when even God themself leaned down from his place on the clouds to watch her favorite pair share an embrace multiple decades in the making.
“You idiot”, Crowley was mumbling. “You stupid, stupid angel”
He supposed that was fair, more than fair, actually. And he couldn’t hold back the chuckle, pressed his face against Crowley’s neck and felt the demon press his nose into his white hair.
“No more sides, Aziraphael.”, he said then, and his voice was wobbly, and his arms tightened around the angel, just for a second, “No more heaven, no more hell. I can’t.. I can’t lose you.. not again.”
And that had alarm bells going off in his head, but for now, the angel stuck a pin in it and put it away. They could talk about what exactly had happened back then, that one time Crowley went to heaven disguised as him, a different time, preferably when they weren’t both mentally and emotionally drained.
“You’ll have to stay close to me then.”, he suggested, a teary smile on his face. “I have a habit of getting into trouble, you see.”
And when he heard Crowley snort, when eventually the giggles came and turned into full on laughter, Aziraphale knew everything would turn out alright.
“I think I can keep you out of them. I have a few years of experience.”, the demon answered while his angel sneakily wiped the few tears out of his eyes. “I did learn how to make crepes, well, more or less, after your adventure in France- and look, we haven’t had any problems with the French since then!”
Another round of laughter and Aziraphale’s chest already felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted, one that he hadn’t even known existed.
He wriggled around in Crowley’s arms, sneaked his own around the demon’s shoulders, only hesitating for a moment- because really, what did he have to fear anymore? He knew Crowley wanted to spend the rest of their existence with him and he knew he wanted to be with the demon until the end of time.
They were allowed to be a little touchy, thank you very much.
“So, what’s your trick then, for keeping former coworkers out of our hair?”
He leaned back, just enough to slowly, carefully, connect their foreheads and Aziraphale delighted in the shudder that went down his back, and his thoughts went back to that kiss, to that spark of electricity that has zapped through his veins, that had made his knees week and almost give in to the demon then and there, heaven be- well, unimportant, for at least a while.
“I won’t let them harm you again.”, the redhead promised, eyes glowing such a brilliant yellow that it stole his breath away. “Do you still trust me?”
Crowley had always been able to tempt him to things, be it food or wine, or lazing around or music or- well, who even kept track of all of the small temptations he had acquired over the decades.
‘ And what is one more on a list that’s already uncountable?’ , the angel thought, before leaning in, twisting his head to the side, just a tad, and pressed his lips against the demon’s.
And if there was one regret in his long, long life, Aziraphale wished he had done this earlier, had kissed the demon decades ago.
Crowley went stiff under him, for one painfully long second, two, three- and then there were arms around him again, a hand in his hair, one on his back, pulling him closer just as much as he pushed himself closer, deeper into his embrace, against the redhead’s chest, feeling safer in the arms of the supposed enemy than he had for decades in heaven.
And the world around them got quiet, slowed down, stopped spinning for just a few seconds, while against all odds a love story, 6000 years in the making, finally found an end, while the Serpent of Eden and the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, a demon and an angel, Crowley and Aziraphale, finally found their happy ending, in each other’s arms.
They wouldn’t be perfect, they would bicker, and they would fight, and they would take breaks that never lasted longer than a few hours, but they were there for each other, loved each other, protected each other, until the end of times.
They never got around to visit Alpha Centauri after all, but in the end, they didn’t need to.
They would drive through Soho, in a Bentley that honestly should have broken down ages ago, went to cute little restaurants, had coffee dates across the street, listened to music together, danced through the bookshop together. They fed the ducks together, went grocery shopping together, and sometimes they just sat next to each other, Crowley’s hand in Aziraphale’s hair, playing with the white locks while the angel read out loud, one book after the other.
Crowley would never have enough of that, would never have enough of Aziraphale, the same way the angel would never be able to get sick of the demon, would never be able to get really angry at him.
And the nightingales would sing, every day, for the rest of time.
And their friends would come and go, but they were used to it, after spending as long on the earth as they had, and through it all, from the first rainfall to the last sunset that graced the earth, they would be at each other’s side.
Together. Forever.
And when the last grains of sand would land, when the last second ticked by, and the earth’s time would finally be up, they were in each other’s arms, and the last words on their lips would be the same they whispered to each other that day, in the quiet of the bookshop, when everything was still fresh and new and fragile enough that the words seemed to choke them.
“I love you”