Aziraphale

❝ not supposed to mean anything — right. ❞ sometimes when crowley gets this way, it's a symptom of his own anger at himself as much as it is the other person. not that he would admit to that easily. he hated how he would dig his heels and claws in, hanging onto the feeling until the whole conversation was nearly pointless in his stubbornness.

a low, growling grumble was all he emitted in response for a moment. ❝ maybe i would be more content in it being random! ❞ he voice was rising in volume, ❝ because then the whole thing wouldn't be so, so, so deliberately cruel! ❞ angels being good, demons being evil, humans living and working and suffering and dying and then going to one place or the other. heaven is white and stuffy and boring, hell is torture and more suffering and more waiting. ❝ the whole lot of them — us. cruel, cruel, cruel. we and humans serve some greater purpose and then one of us is banished at the end?? likely us demons cease to exist on earth with the second coming? bollocking bollocks, if you ask me. ❞ his ranting had let off some of the steam and the demon was settling into a tired, no, exhausted state. ❝ so if there's no changing the ineffable plan, fine. maybe pretending is stupid. actually, i know it is. but the humans say ignorance is bliss. i think it can be up until a point. what do you say we just ... ignore it for a while longer? i'm tired. ❞

They had had arguments go on for days, years even! Most of them were never actually resolved either. There just came a point where they both decided enough time had passed to simply pretend the conversation had never taken place at all.

Azirphale had always known that, some day, Heaven and Hell would face off against each other again. What he hadn't stopped to think about until very recently was the fact that such a battle - much more so than the previous one they had fought - was bound to cost him EVERYTHING he held dear. Earth was done for no matter what side won. If Heaven won, that meant no more demons - no more Crowley! - on top of that. If they didn't, he wouldn't be there to see what would become of The Almighty's creation.

"I agree there doesn't seem to be much of a point in fighting about all of it." The Angel acquiesced quietly, a slightly troubled expression disgracing his features. Though he would never admit to it, he had always found real courage in Crowley's bold refusal to give up, even when all odds were stacked against him. The fact that he was giving up now all but forced him to face the music himself. After all, he couldn't very well thwart Heaven.

When Crowley said he was tired, the statement held so much weight that Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder, fingers squeezing into the fabric of his blazer for just a moment.

"- and of course you wouldn't care about what's right or wrong, you're a demon! But I'm...well, I'm not! I won't let you tempt me, so you can tell downstairs that it's not going to work."

fingers that had been creeping over an ornate and ancient looking box had suddenly ceased at his command, leaving the angel to raise a brow. well that was no fun. a beautiful box and clearly--something maybe beautiful inside?

the smaller woman turned her head to look straight at him, placing both hands on the sides of it, as if she were going to open it. " ....have you got a secret in here? " she gasped in excitement at the thought, grinning ear to ear.

" oh how mysterious ! how fun ! " eyes glimmering at the mere thought of the moment of being told said secret. but maybe she was getting ahead of herself, and there were no secret in there at all.

"It's just - "

"it's no secret, it's just private."

"it makes me mad how pretty/handsome you are"

"i don't have to be drunk to know how much i love you."

"i wish i was the only person you looked at like that."

"goddamnit, i told myself i wouldn't cry."

"we should just, like, run away together." "and go where, exactly?" "anywhere."

"you know me better than so many people."

"i don't deserve you." "yes you do." "no. no, no, no, i don't. you're, like, so out of my league it's insane."

"i think you're my soulmate."

"i knew i shouldn't have said that. i'm sorry."

"kiss me." "you're drunk." "pfft. it's just a kiss."

"your hands are so warm. feels nice."

"i don't wanna go home." "why not?" "'cus you're not there."

"you're my favourite person in the whole wide world."

"you're not gonna leave me, are you?"

"you should let me paint you. i'd do such a good job at it."

"if you keep looking at me like that i'm gonna fall even more in love." "even more?"

"i don't care if i forget this in the morning. i'm just happy to be with you right now."

"i should've told you how i felt before. woulda saved a lot of time and heartache."

"your smile is so beautiful it almost makes me nauseous." "you don't know what you're saying." "in a good way."

"i can't believe i just said that. it was supposed to be a secret."

"i wasn't lying when i said i didn't want anything serious. i just didn't realize i only want it with you."

"are you sure you don't want anything serious?" "i'm sure." "you're breakin' my heart."

"that guy/girl you're seeing? he/she doesn't deserve you."

"you're my favorite person, you know that?" "i know."

"i'm so scared i'm gonna fuck this up."

"sometimes i feel like you're the only one who gets me."

"i know i love you more than you love me. but that's okay. i still get to be with you. and i love you."

"i wrote a song about you." "did you now?" "yep. and it's super poetic."

"your hands are so much bigger/smaller than mine."

"i'm so glad i exist at the same time as you."

"you ever think the universe wanted us to meet and fall in love?" "i know it did."

in the near year it had been since their last conversation ( if one could call it that ) crowley had spent it in a few different states : angry, so angry he wanted to tear the shelves down in the bookshop and chuck all of the books into the street to be taken, ran over, pissed on, whatever else. he wouldn't have cared ( yes, he would have and so he'd never have actually done it ). horribly sad, depressed one could even say. and a moment or two of self pity and loathing thrown in here and there. but, with no idea of what to say and no way to contact the angel, he stayed in his own lane.

once the mood swings calmed enough that he could look at the ' A.Z. Fell and Co. ' sign without grinding his teeth so hard that he brought tears to his well-hidden eyes, he started mulling on some ideas. ideas just in case aziraphale didn't want to be in heaven running things anymore. alpha centauri had been offered twice now with little success so he struck that off the list. maybe they could visit some day, if the angel ever forgave him. if he ever apologized. but that wasn't what he was thinking of now. no, he was thinking of what gabriel and beelzebub had started. a truce, a stasis of sorts, a 'live and let live' type of motto. it would take a lot of work, which he was loathe to think of having to do anything with any other demon or angel other than his own.

he sat doing all this in his bentley a safe couple of blocks away from the bookshop. nina and maggie would talk of how sweet he was to be keeping an eye on the place while mr. fell was gone. and how right they would be that that was exactly what he was doing. in the seat beside him and crumpled up in the back were pages of furious scribbling, holes ripped through in places where he had crossed something out so vehemently that the paper couldn't stand the force of it anymore. balls of paper were amongst a few bottles of wine and one of liquor. he may have drank excessively in the beginning.

Before long, he began to wonder if Crowley had been right all along. The idea that he could make a difference felt more and more naïf as time went by. Being 'in charge' of Heaven was more of a technicality than an actuality. Little more than a year had passed, and aside from not being able to make any meaningful changes, the orchestration of The Second Coming was well on its way despite the angel's best attempts at steering Heaven towards a different course. If he didn't find a way to gain the upper hand soon, within a year - two, at most - the Earth would once more be on the line.

On top of that, back in Heaven was more lonely than he could ever have imagined. Aziraphale had been gone for such a long time that, no matter what he tried, he stuck out like a sore thumb. It was that loneliness, more than anything else, that had Aziraphale - against direct instructions - going down the elevator leading to Whickber Street.

He didn't know whether or not Crowley would be anywhere near London. In fact, he rather suspected that he wouldn't, but it was as good a spot to start as any. He could check in on the bookstore, ask around. Perhaps Crowley had left a note, or told someone - anyone - where he was headed before he left.

His heart was hammering in his chest as he stepped into the street and took a deep breath. While Whickber street wasn't necessarily known for it's fragrant smell - and things seemed to have gone slightly downhill since he'd left - it was grounding to smell anything at all. After so many years on Earth, the clinical feeling of Heaven was alienating.

As he looked around, his eye fell first on his old bookshop across the street. It looked a little unloved, but by no means abandoned. Then, he noticed Nina clearing off tables on the sidewalk of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death and a small smile graced his face, as his heartbeat steadied slightly. Almost of their own accord, his eyes next slide to the side of the street, where the Bentley used to be parked. Empty.

Just as he was about to cross the street towards his bookshop, looking left and right to avoid oncoming traffic, he spotted it. The Bentley. Him! Or well, he can't actually see Crowley, but if he wasn't currently inside the vehicle, it was only a matter of time before he showed up. He was still here!

Without looking this time, Aziraphale hurried towards the car, eyes straining to see whether or not it was occupied. When he found it was, he was nearly running , scarcely avoiding a woman on a bycicle. He had the irrational - or perhaps perfectly justified - fear that Crowley would hit the gas the moment he saw him approaching. If he had known what running in a dream felt like, he might have used it to described what it felt like to cross the short distance separating him from Crowley. As it was, he had nothing to compare the sensation of his body not quite operating at the proper speed to.

Eventually, his hand closed around the doorhandle, and the next moment, he was sitting next to Crowley, slightly red in the face and out of breath, which could not fully be explained away by his short burst of activity. Eyes focussed on his hands, he stammered the first thing that came to mind.

"I - I need your help."

they were standing nearly side by side in silence. nearly because the angel was ever so slightly in front of the other. cherubic hand extended towards him, warm and rosy. crowley's knuckles clenched and unclenched at his sides, whitening every time they tightened. he could see the sadness in the edges of the angel's face. that wasn't something he could stand very well. in fact, he avoided it at all costs. he would try words first. ❝ angel, it'll — it'll be alright. ❞ they were a feeble attempt as far as comfort goes. long fingers outstretched and their palms found each other's as the pads of his fingers landed on the back of aziraphale's hand.

None of it made sense.

Testing Job...well...it had felt an awful lot like a plan he was supposed to be thwarting. How could She approve of something like that? It was cruel, and, above all, utterly pointless! He could stomach cruelty if it served a purpose, he supposed..., but this? What other choice did She leave him but to lie? To twist the ineffable plan?

Worst of all, it had had no effect. He hadn't so much as received a stern talking to. Should he not be punished for his disobedience? Had She even noticed? And if she hadn't...what did that mean?

Instead of voicing any of these questions out loud, Aziraphale did exactly as Crowley said and remained silent, though he was holding onto the Demon's hand as if his continued existence depended on it.

When he eventually did speak he sounded a lot calmer, though the usual pep in his voice was utterly lacking. "Do you think they'll notice if you're gone from down there for a little while longer?"

still, it is entirely human to be lured by the familiar like a moth to a flame; perhaps this is why he stumbles inside the bookshop almost without a second thought, merely intrigued by the fact that at least something looks and feels the same. — he didn't use to be a regular here by any means, but on a handful of occasions he did browse the books here which proved rather unobtainable, anyway, as when ever he'd made up his mind to buy one of them, the owner was nowhere to be found, though he could swear he'd seen him before, stalking amidst the shelves.

"good evening, uh— am i interrupting? the door was unlocked." only now amidst the shelves does he realise how little daylight pours in here from the outside. it is rather late and he is rather lucky if the store is still open in more than just the literal meaning of the word. in fact, he wonders if this is the reason he's getting greeted in the first place, to be politely sent on his way — ah, that's also familiar but strange to him at the same time. a part of him prefered the french for their directness, even if one had to admit there was elegance to this, too.

"You're not interrupting anything - the shop was in fact still open. I'm afraid I have adopted rather erratic opening hours." Aziraphale replies, suddenly aware that he has spent an awful lot of time looking at the man. Convinced that he had been too obvious, the angel is quick to explain himself:

"I apologize for staring, dear, you just look a lot like someone I used to know-"

"- but don't let me impose, you're more than welcome to look around. I'll be in the backroom if you need anything. Making a frantic phonecall. But surely, if this was Basil Hallward, and he had something to do with...whatever was going on with him, someone would have noticed by now.

Thankfully Crowley picks up his telephone, and a few minutes later he is sure of two things. Crowley was none the wiser about why Basil was still walking around, but his lot had noticed the missing soul, so the news that he was didn't come as a surprise. A clever twist of the real events of that night had managed to convince Hell that the painters prolonged existence on Earth was, in fact, a carefully calculated decision and an unusually cruel punishment.