the thing about crowleyâs confession is⌠he must have thought about it in the bit of time he had before doing it. i mean... he went and sat outside margueriteâs with his wine, and thought. he thought very hard about how there was a threatâa sleeperâa ticking time bomb in aziraphaleâs bookshop that could explode at any moment, take away all their hard-won peace, their safety, their comfort.
but most importantly, a threat to aziraphale. gabriel had tried once to destroy aziraphale already, and only hadnât because they'd swapped bodies. and crowley's clearly terrified that this time, what they're doing feels reckless, feels like playing with something far too important at stake. it's like... already knowing someone is so important to youâand then having the possibility that it could really be something dangled in front of youâand then knowing there's an existential threat to that potential? awful. horrifying. no wonder he can't find the words.
we know crowley is a romantic. we know how much joy it brings him to see other people fall in love. and... honestly... i'm not sure itâs that nina needed to spell the nature of his feelings out for him, exactly. crowley's known where he stands towards aziraphale for a long time if we're to judge him by his acts (which are always acts of service, care, and attention, which always speak louder than his words). so i don't think it was that, as much as justâthe experience of being perceived by someone else, sort of jostling something for him.
because crowley's watched the romance films, hasn't he, he knows the exact tropes he's working with, but the idea that they could apply to himâto him and aziraphale? i don't think he considered that until it was offered to him as an option. and once it was, there was crowley's mind far exceeding the speed limit trying to wrap itself around all of this.
and so he must have looked at it, and all signs, all signs, were pointing to aziraphale being receptive.
crowley probably thought about all the times aziraphale had touched him in the last day alone. all the little glances and looks aziraphale had been giving him, which crowley surely hadnât missed because heâs always staring right back. he probably thought about how aziraphale thinks the bentley is their car and the bookshop is their shop, about how aziraphale told him that he thought theyâd carved a peaceful existence out for themselves. and after the ball, he probably thought about how aziraphale asked him to dance, at this event that was meant to get other people to fall in love, but aziraphale had wanted to dance with him.
so crowley most likely looked at all of this and thought heâs finally ready. heâs finally caught up. when i ask this time, heâs going to say yes. and he watched aziraphale so warily, too, after the realization, because there's a way that it feels, to be holding on to a truth so direly important and so terribly exciting and so very requited, as far as crowley can tell. it's like, am i holding myself differently now? can he tell? has he always been able to tell? am i about to muck it up? i'm about to muck it up. i muck everything up, but not this. not this. he's the center of my universe so it's worth it. and it's alright, even if i muck it up, because he's going to say yes. dear god: i'd only ask if it was important.
and so he queued up their song in the bentley and he talked to muriel like theyâre a them, like theyâre going to be a couple, a couple who needs us time. he gave himself the luxury of imagining it, of planning it all out in his mindâhow everyone was going to finally leave off pulling them toward some greater purpose and just let the two of them be together, and aziraphale was going to at last let crowley be to him what heâs always wanted to beâwhat heâs been being already, evidently, to the point where strangers on the street ask how long theyâve been together.
and then in the end, to be rejected like that. to be rejected even while the love is pouring off aziraphale in anguished wavesâand if he loves me too, then why won't he say yes? to be rejected and to know this isn't how it's supposed to go, even though it's the way it's always gone. crowley always asks and aziraphale always says no. somehow, this time was supposed to be different. he'd dared to hope properly. and how had he misjudged it so terribly this time? how much of it had been wishful thinking? and he had to have felt aziraphale's hands grasping at his shoulders, had to have felt the start of a kiss returned, and thought that maybe there was a spark of hope yet.
because nothing lasts forever. apparently.
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