imagine a universe where crowley and aziraphale look at each other, look at god, and say: are those really the only two choices?
it's actually inconceivable to me that they wouldn't ask the question. humanity, the cosmos, the one creature in existence each of them loves more than all of it combined. everything hanging in the delicate cradle of god's good grace. put it back the way it was, or destroy it entirely. you'd certainly ask. why wouldn't they?
it's a fallacy, crowley will say. a false dilemma. you're god. we can ask you for anything.
god just smiles, a thin expression that begins and ends in the corners of her mouth. the devil smiles too, but in the inverse. wordless answers all around.
seriously? that easy? crowley says to aziraphale under his breath, and aziraphale will roll his eyes, buoyant with fondness.
i do believe you're onto something, my dear. it's all in the name, isn't it? aziraphale is thinking of whickber street, a thermos full of the holiest water. dogs learning to balance on their hind legs. understanding dawns like a sunrise. the naming of the thing gives it power.
very good, god might say, but neither of them are listening anymore.
crowley's eyes are the color of sunflowers when he turns away from her, never to look upon her face again. well, what should we call it, then? bertha? jehoshua? free willy 2: the adventure home?
another eye roll, even fonder than the first. they might reach for each other, in this universe, the one that birthed them and all the stars and nebulas, the one that birthed you and me and everyone we've ever known and loved. they might hold hands, or embrace, cheek to cheek, arms sliding around waists. i like to think that they move at the same time. crowley's hands find aziraphale's face, aziraphale's eyes fall to crowley's mouth.
(they kiss, of course. how could they not? it's as immutable as gravity, inevitable as time, but not because of god. that's the beauty of free will; it creates itself. a great wagon, as rumi said. out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. i'd like to think there's a cottage waiting for them there, somewhere in the middle.)
we've come to a decision, one of them says.
there's a hell of a universe next door, says the other, and you two look ready for retirement.
