Chapter Text
That had been a shitshow.
The shittiest shitshow that ever did show. But it worked. It worked, and Earth and all of her inhabitants lived to see another day. All thanks to them.
Literally. All thanks to the Them.
Crowley and Aziraphale were under no impression that they had any major impacts on what had happened earlier today. Sure, their little talk with Adam seemed to help him find some resolve on how to handle Satan-himself* bursting through the sun-warmed tarmac of a little airport in Tadfield. But whether or not they had actually influenced his choice was still up for debate.
*Who Adam had only very recently discovered was his literal father
Crowley was exhausted. He has had, frankly, a really rough day. He lost his best friend* twice, his car** had burst into flames, he had to see not only his boss, but his bosses boss, and now he had to take public transportation . Overall, he’s seen better.
*the love of his life
**the other love of his life
Could be worse, Crowley thought to himself. Could’ve lost your best friend twice and not have gotten him back.
Crowley glanced sidelong at Aziraphale, who was taking a very long swig out of the wine bottle they had acquired at some point in-between politely declining Book Girl’s invite for a ride and sitting down at the bus stop bench. Who miracled the wine exactly, Crowley couldn’t be sure. But it was good and it was taking the edge off of what would otherwise be the beginnings of a very strong and overdue panic attack.
Aziraphale’s lips made a ‘pop’ sound as they left the wine bottle. Crowley put his hand out expectantly and instead of feeling the cool, sleek glass neck of the wine, he felt a sudden soft pressure, filled with warmth and a tender squeeze. He quickly turned his head down to see that instead of passing Crowley the wine bottle as they had been doing for some time now, Aziraphale had given him his hand.
Crowley glanced up at Aziraphale’s face and found he was smiling fondly down at their joined hands.
“Angel, uh- what-” Crowley trailed off, unable to think of what to say or do next. This was weird. Odd. Very strange. They never really were the touchy type. A few brushes of hands here, some pats on the back there, but never… hand holding.
Crowley’s question seemed to snap Aziraphale briefly out of whatever alcohol-filled haze he was in and he quickly removed his hand.
“Ah, yes, right, you meant the wine bottle. That’s why… your hand… was out- the bottle. Of wine,” Aziraphale was chuckling nervously and looking down at his hand.
Does yours still tingle, too? Crowley thought as his own hand still buzzed in the spots that the angels fingers had just caressed.
Aziraphale thrust the wine bottle into Crowley’s face while looking with great attention at the tree on the other side of the street.
Well, that was a Thing.
Crowley was mid-gulp when he realized that Aziraphale was talking about something. Not wanting to be rude and interrupt, Crowley was going to allow Aziraphale to finish whatever he was going on about.
“-better get back to the bookshop,” Aziraphale finished with a small, sad sigh.
Crowley’s head swam for a second. It was trying very desperately to grab onto a thought. The thought was very important if Crowley did say so himself. But what was it? It had something to do with Angel and the bookshop. Angel and the bookshop. What was it? He really should’ve been keeping better tabs on his own inebriation levels.
“The bookshop?” Crowley said out loud, hoping that forming words would help him remember. “The bookshop!”
Aziraphale nearly jumped out of his seat, startled at Crowley’s sudden outburst.
“Oh, Angel, I’m so sorry, it burned down,” Crowley heard his voice tremble a little bit. Sure, it wasn’t his bookshop. And Aziraphale didn’t actually sell any books so it’s not like business will be lost*, but Crowley knew that the bookshop was a safe space for Aziraphale. Somewhere he could be his own angel and be free from the constraints Heaven had spent millennia pounding into his soft, curl-ridden head.
*Or was even required of two entities who can just miracle up as much money as necessary on any given day
A short back and forth ensued in which Aziraphale was filled in on what exactly had happened after his inconvenient discorporation. An awkward pause and a few wayward sniffles later, an offer hung in the air.
“You can stay at my place, if you like.”
As the silence between the end of Crowley’s offer and Aziraphale’s answer grew longer and longer, Crowley found himself about five seconds away from taking it back when the bus appeared.
Now, did Crowley feel bad about using his demonic powers to force a working-class bus driver to go far out of his route, which will take hours and many miles, just so him and Aziraphale could get home without having to exert any of the strength required by miracles? Of course he did, he’s not a monster.
He was planning on adding an extra $3,000 to this kind man’s bank account the minute they were dropped off in Mayfair.
Mayfair. That reminded Crowley…
“You didn’t answer my question,” Crowley said as Aziraphale took a seat next to him.
“What question, dear?” Aziraphale answered, looking a little puzzled.
“Well, I guess it wasn’t technically a question, more of an offer, but regardless, you didn’t answer,” Crowley could feel himself stumbling over his words and decided it was time to sober up. “About staying at my place.”
Crowley hated how small he sounded. How he sounded like it would devastate him if Aziraphale turned him down for the third time that day. Crowley had turned his head to look out the window as the bus jolted alive and began driving down the winding Tadfield hills. Just as he was starting to suspect Aziraphale had fallen asleep, he felt that warm brush of fingers on his, again.
Crowley looked down to see that Aziraphale had laid his hand over Crowley’s where it laid on the arm rest between them. Crowley was still marveling at the sensation when Aziraphale’s thumb began to stroke lightly over his fingers.
“Crowley, of course I would love to stay with you,” Aziraphale was smiling a little lopsided at Crowley. “Thank you ever so much for your kindness.”
Still drunk, then, Crowley decided. That explains the touching.
“Great, happy to have you. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to promptly black out until we reach my flat.”
Crowley laid his head against the cold bus window. His skin had just started to warm up the glass when he felt a light tug on his head. A hand was guiding him toward the upright position, and then back down again on the other side of the seat. Crowley’s head was now resting firmly on Aziraphale’s shoulder, Aziraphale’s hand being the culprit who moved him there.
Crowley sat completely still for a moment, sure this was some sort of hallucination and he had fallen asleep against the window. Not that he was complaining. The Angel was soft and much warmer than his previous resting post. Aziraphale’s hand moved from its spot ruffled in Crowley’s hair and rested now on his left shoulder. He moved to rest his chin on top of Crowley’s head.
“Angel-” Crowley started, unsure of why he was protesting, but feeling it necessary lest he take advantage of the angel’s obviously drunken state.
“Shhh,” Aziraphale practically purred. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
And for the first time in 11 years, Crowley slept peacefully.
_________________________________________________________________
Crowley woke to a soft jostling of his forearm.
He groaned a little and batted at Aziraphale’s hand. “Five more minutes.”
Crowley turned to bury his nose deeper into Aziraphale’s shoulder when he felt the angel exhale sharply.
“Crowley, we are here and we have already taken up much of this nice bus driver’s time, so if you would please get up and come with me,” Aziraphale brushed a few hairs back from Crowley’s forehead. “There’s a bed in your flat.”
Aziraphale said the last part a little sing-songy, clearly losing patience but not wanting to be too harsh on the obviously exhausted demon before him. Crowley did like his bed.
“Mmph.”
Crowley slowly lifted his head to stare at Aziraphale, who only smiled gingerly at him and giggled. Is he still drunk? Crowley thought to himself.
“Oh, darling, your hair,” Aziraphale ran his hand through Crowley’s hair a few times in an attempt to tame what was typically a very neat and tidy coiffe, but now looked as if it had been through three tornados, a small hurricane, and then licked soundly by a very determined cat.
Crowley froze at the use of the word “darling,” noting sleepily that it was a little more affectionate than the angel’s typical “dear” but not quite as daring as something like “love.”
Aziraphale pulled Crowley out of his thoughts by tugging on his jacket sleeve, motioning for him to get up so they could finally leave the bus and send the poor driver on his way. Once on the sidewalk, Aziraphale lead the way into the lobby of the building, tugging Crowley along like a mother dragging their child into a very crowded shopping plaza, with every intention of spending the entire day standing around and looking at various, ugly colored jumpers.
The elevator ride up was a blur and before he knew it, Crowley was standing at the door of his flat, fumbling with the keys. Suddenly, a realization dawned on him.
“Erm, actually, probably best if you go in first.”
Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, puzzled. He opened his mouth to most likely ask why that is, but he clamped it shut as he caught a whiff of the holy water that was still puddled in Crowley’s office doorway, a few feet from the main entrance.
“Is that-”
“Yep.”
Aziraphale looked relieved in an odd sort of way. He pushed the door open with the palm of his hand and peeked around to find the offending puddle. He tugged on the lapels of his jacket, straightened his back, and snapped in a downward motion. The puddle swirled into nothing and all that was left were the dark stains of Ligur’s remains.
This time Crowley snapped and the dark spots disappeared.
“Teamwork, eh?” Crowley said, nudging Aziraphale’s side as he came up beside him. Aziraphale shot Crowley a look that suggested maybe this wasn’t the time for jokes. Crowley promptly ignored the look and strode past the formerly contaminated area and went straight for the liquor cabinet.
“Crowley, what are you doing?”
He paused and turned to face Aziraphale, holding two bottles of scotch that he had just plucked off of the glittering glass shelves. He lifted his hands.
“Deciding if I want my splitting hangover in the morning to taste like cinnamon or more smokey,” Crowley grinned at the bottles and then looked up at Aziraphale, who was wringing his hands.
“Dear, I really think you should get some rest, you look-” Aziraphale paused as if he was choosing his next words wisely. “Well, I dare say you look a bit peaked.”
Peaked was most likely an understatement. Despite his little nap on the bus, Crowley felt dead on his feet. But in all honesty, he also felt too wound up to properly go to bed. What’s more is that he doubts he could sleep soundly knowing that Aziraphale would be out here, looking uncomfortable at the bland and barren wasteland of Crowley’s living room. No, it was much better for him to stay awake and discuss their plans for survival.
“I’m fine, Angel.”
Crowley flinched a little at the blatant lie. He tried his best to be a generally honest demon, but when it came to Aziraphale, he didn’t just try - he was. He can’t remember the last time he lied to him, and why would he? They were friends. Best friends, no matter how many times the angel denied it. He didn’t lie to his best friend. That is, except for one tiny little thing that didn’t matter at all, really. Just that he’s been deeply in love with him for, oh, upwards of 6,000 years. But that’s small, miniscule, and isn’t even a lie if you think about it. Aziraphale has never asked him outright “Are you in love with me?” and therefore Crowley has never lied about it*.
*Though he wasn’t sure what he would do should the angel actually ask that question
“Let’s get you to bed.”
Aziraphale put his hand on the small of Crowley’s back and led them toward the bedroom. Crowley’s skin blazed under the touch, despite the layers of clothing between them.
“Angel, really, I’m fine, you don’t need to do this.”
Aziraphale huffed as they crossed the threshold. His hand left Crowley’s back and he went for the sleek, grey dresser next to the bed. Reaching into the second drawer from the bottom, he pulled out a pair of black silk pajamas with little white trimmings.
“How did you-”
“Put these on and please, please get some rest.”
Aziraphale pushed the pajamas into Crowley’s hands and began to leave the room. Crowley, panicking slightly, grabbed his wrist.
“Er, actually, could you, well, I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously you can do whatever you want, but it would be nice if…” Crowley trailed off, all of the courage suddenly leaving his body. He let go of Azirphale’s wrist.
“Never mind.”
Aziraphale turned back toward Crowley. He had on one of his faces. He made a lot of those and Crowley had pretty much categorized every single one. This one meant that he was making a decision.
“Do you want me to stay?”
Crowley suddenly felt very small, again, just like he had when he asked Aziraphale to come to his flat. He hated feeling needy or like a burden, and the last thing he wanted to do was police how Aziraphale handled his own feelings about the day.
“I- you don’t have to-” Crowley sighed and sat on the bed, flopping over to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. A quick snap and he was in the pajamas Aziraphale had handed him, his glasses laying on the side table.
He felt the bed next to him shift as if under some weight. He turned his head to see Aziraphale had gotten into the bed and he was wearing… he was… wearing…
“Where the heaven did you get those?” Crowley was eyeing up Aziraphale’s tartan pajamas. They matched the ones Crowley was wearing in every way minus the color and pattern. He looked utterly comfortable and like he’d be the best cuddler on this side of the pond. But he didn’t need the pajamas to look that particular part.
“Oh, I had them on hand in case my bookshop ever burnt down and I needed to stay somewhere that I felt comfortable enough to go to sleep and not be in my everyday clothes.”
“That’s an awfully specific reason to-”
“I just miracled them up, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled at him. He was doing a lot of that lately. “It was a joke.”
Crowley shifted so that he could look at Aziraphale head-on. They were now facing each other, laying on top of the covers. Crowley curled himself almost into a fetal position. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He was never the worried one, that was Aziraphale’s job, but this seemed important.
“What are we going to do, Angel?” Crowley felt his voice tremble. It really had been quite the day and he was currently on the losing side of the battle to keep his eyes open.
Aziraphale raised a hand to cup Crowley’s face and he could’ve cried right then and there the touch was so gentle. A thumb began stroking at his cheek and man, Crowley was really about to lose the eyelid battle.
“We’ll figure it out,” Aziraphale replied after a few moments of comfortable silence.
“What if we don’t? Aziraphale, I can’t- I don’t want to lose you,” Crowley suddenly felt very naked. On top of being in a very vulnerable position, he didn’t even have his glasses to hide his face. He was sure he looked pathetic and frightened, but at this point he didn’t care. If this was his last chance to confess his feelings, then by Someone, he was taking it. “I can’t lose you, not again.”
Aziraphale’s thumb froze and he removed his hand from Crowley’s cheek. Crowley’s eyes were closed now but he could only imagine the disgusted look Aziraphale was most likely giving him. He had stepped over their boundaries, he had taken it too far, he was going too fast, God or Satan or Whoever, why was he always going so fast?
“Come here.”
Crowley cracked an eye open and saw Aziraphale had put his arms out in an inviting gesture. He couldn’t be reading this situation correctly. There was a brief pause while Crowley considered the other meanings outstretched arms and blatant instructions could have.
“Oh, you silly serpent, come here and let me hold you, this isn’t some sort of trick.”
Crowley practically scrambled from his side of the bed, diving headfirst into Aziraphale’s arms. He buried his nose into the angel’s chest and breathed in deep, taking in the smell of aftershave, parchment, and a little bit of the bleached scent that comes with a recent trip to Heaven.
Aziraphale immediately closed his arms around Crowley, stroking his back and petting through the strands at the back of Crowley’s neck. Crowley, for his part, was doing a very good job of reminding Aziraphale that he was a snake by nature.
“I love you, did you know that? You must know that,” Aziraphale finally whispered into Crowley’s hair.
Crowley just shook his head back and forth slightly. Enough that Aziraphale could feel it.
“Well, I do. Very much. I love you so much, Crowley, and I know you’re worried about what will happen tomorrow but I don’t care, just as long as you’re finally mine.”
Crowley is pretty sure demons don’t cry. It’s unheard of, if they can. However, demons also can’t love. And Crowley loves deeply, and with his entire soul, this being holding him right now.
“I love you, too, Angel,” Crowley managed to choke out. He pulled back to look Aziraphale in the eyes and saw that they were a little watery.
“Can I-”
“Yes,” Crowley breathed. He didn’t care what the question was, he trusted Aziraphale and wanted whatever he was given.
Aziraphale placed a chaste kiss on Crowley’s lips, and then the corner of his mouth, and then his cheeks, finally landing a kiss on his forehead.
“Go to sleep, love,” Aziraphale’s breath ghosted over Crowley’s brow.
And for the second time that night, Crowley fell asleep feeling more at peace than he ever had in his long, long life.