Vampire Farmer

Hello. I'm here and I know you're in a spot of trouble. I like you.

It's you! I'm so happy you're here!

Sheen's voice and face when Aziraphale says Crowley's name in this moment makes me think that Aziraphale is in love with Crowley--the demon Crowley, not the angel who became Crowley--long before he consciously realizes it in 1941. The way Sheen has Aziraphale say Crowley's name is so soft.

The way you're he way you're lounging there and what you're wearing are uncomfortably sexy and also incredibly inappropriate for the Bastille at this moment in history. I suppose this is very on-brand for you.

Crowley: I listen when you talk about your interests and goals and keep track of your general whereabouts and pursuits.

Either they've spoken with each other recently or Crowley has been keeping tabs on Aziraphale. Aziraphale isn't upset that Crowley knows what he's been up to, which suggests the former, which in turn suggests they're in semi-regular (every few years or decades) contact at this point.

Also we've now got a general idea for when Aziraphale opens his bookshop.

Okay, brief tangent while I point out two things here.

One, my favorite thing about Aziraphale is that he is a sensualist. This is libertine behavior, y'all. He 'popped across the Channel' during the Reign of Terror because he wanted a specific carnal experience of a specific really lovely food.

And two, even when Aziraphale does weird, frivolous, silly, ill-advised things like this, things that clearly baffle Crowley...Crowley never makes fun of him. He never laughs at him. He always has this look of disbelief on his face, like Am I hearing this?--

--but Crowley never, not once, shuts Aziraphale down.

Until Aziraphale asks him to go back to Heaven.

Anyway. Back to our scene.

Aziraphale: I am unwilling to abandon my sartorial sensibilities even when it threatens my corporation, and I am insane, so I think this is reasonable. At least I'm not wearing a Slutty Monarchist outfit.

You're happy to see me, aren't you. You're relieved to see a demon. Go on, say it.

Tennant's delivery of this line cracks me up. It is so gloating and flirtatious and smarmy and indulgent of Aziraphale.

I am very happy to see you and lucky you're here, and I am willing to say so sincerely even though you are gloating about it.

And then there's the exchange where Crowley very carefully doesn't answer Aziraphale's question about why Crowley's in the area but also reassures him that he didn't cause the French Revolution and Aziraphale can still like him.

We can't speak openly about this. It's dangerous for me.

Message received: I won't mention what you did again. But I want to show my gratitude and spend time with you; is it safe for us to get lunch together?

Yes, but one of us is going to have to change so we can walk the streets of Paris without getting arrested again, and I'm the one doing the rescuing here so it's not going to be me. Your 'standards' will have to take the hit.

Fine, you've got me over a barrel. But hey, if I have to wear the silly hat anyway I might as well go all the way and wear your colors. Except not monarchist. And not slutty.

Oh, I don't know, I thought you looked pretty slutty too. (Meaning 2) I'm having this guy killed for touching you, btw. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. I see you are having the guy who assaulted you killed in a copy of the clothes he would have killed you for wearing. I wholeheartedly approve of this (Meaning 3), your sexiness in those clothes notwithstanding. The utter insouciance of Crowley's little sniff and the inquiry about what they'll have for lunch drive home hard that Crowley could not be more unbothered by Aziraphale having the man who tried to harm him beheaded.

What really tickles me about this line is not only that Crowley's joke has three distinct meanings, but that Meaning 1 (the meaning that exists without reference to Crowley's clothes) is the opposite of Meaning 3--Anybody wearing clothes like that deserves what they get (Meaning 1) versus It rocks how you just killed someone who tried to kill you for wearing those clothes (Meaning 3)--and yet because of the clothes he's wearing, both meanings come through with perfect clarity, dependent only on whether the listener(s) can see his clothing and know its significance. Aziraphale can, and does, so he receives Crowley's real meaning. Hell/Heaven can't, and don't, so they just hear Meaning 1.

And then we get Aziraphale's pleased little smile and look of tranquil interest as he watches Jean-Claude dragged off to his death. Its such an interesting facial expression for an angel watching a demon have someone killed having someone killed, isn't it?

Crowley has just told him they're probably being listened to by Hell. That means Aziraphale, Crowley, and the audience all know this is the most Aziraphale can safely react. Aziraphale can't show any overt approval of anything an agent of Hell does, because by definition anything a demon does is demonic and angels must be against That Sort of Thing. In light of the fact that Aziraphale is the one who causes Jean-Claude's death, I now argue that this responsibility not to react too positively to something the other side has done falls on Crowley, and that the reason he makes this joke is primarily to tell Aziraphale I see what you've just done, and I like it without identifying aloud what exactly has just happened for their presumed eavesdroppers because an angel arranging a human's murder is the sort of thing in which head offices might take undue interest.

The awareness that their conversation is not private means the audience and Aziraphale know they need to be watching and listening for multiple meanings from Crowley, and it also means the audience and Crowley know we need to be watching Aziraphale's face closely right now. And that little smile shows us that Aziraphale has received Meanings 2 and 3 of "he was asking for trouble."

Or, at minimum, Meaning 3; even if Aziraphale picks up on Meaning 2--You looked really sexy in your vintage clothes, you crazy weirdo--that's not a message he can afford to react to at all. But he does react to the other coded communication Crowley is sending when he says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" while dressed for trouble himself: I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. People who think your clothes give them the right to hurt you can go to Hell, and I am delighted you just sent one of them there.

You just had someone beheaded for assaulting me, I acknowledge and am pleased by your delight at my cleverness. and I could not be happier. Would you like to come enjoy one of my very favorite sensual pleasures with me?

***

EDIT: To be honest I like this reading better than my original, incorrect understanding of the story despite the fact that it is slightly less romantic, both because I love the idea of Crowley as a thirsty witness to Aziraphale quietly being a vengeful badass, because it gives us a glimpse of something important about Aziraphale's character that we don't get to see elsewhere: Aziraphale doesn't have a problem with killing per se.

We learn from the business with the Antichrist that, like Crowley, Az. can't bring himself to kill children. We learn from his perturbation at the Flood and the Crucifixion that he doesn't hold with killing innocents. He gave away his flaming sword. But this scene establishes that Aziraphale will actively cause someone's death if he feels they deserve it. That seems like an important character note for him that may become relevant in Season 3 (feathers crossed that it happens).

One rescue does not a rift mend. He's owed an apology. And even though everything's gone to heaven, like he predicted, he still hasn't gotten one.

He'd take a lot less. He doesn't need to hear that he was right. He needs to hear that Aziraphale's sticking with him this time.

The Bentley is, at least temporarily, seeing to that. Crowley gives the steering wheel a gentle pat. He genuinely has nothing to do with the doors being locked and apparently immune to miracles or temptation, but he thinks it's trying to help.

If nothing else, the constant itch of not being able to reach out and touch Aziraphale, if he wanted, has vanished for a bit. The ache of missing him has eased back just a fraction. It's a good car. A good, loyal car.

"You're cold," he says, shrugging out of his jacket without even having to look at Aziraphale. It's cold out tonight, in the middle of bloody nowhere, and he gets cold easily. Crowley doesn't want him to be cold.

"You'll be cold," Aziraphale says as Crowley shoves his body-warmed jacket at him.

"Demon," he says. "Don't get cold."

Theoretically, an angel ought not to get cold either. Thing is. Aziraphale's never actually been a very good angel. Not that Crowley would ever tell him that to his face.

Besides, he's his angel. He's allowed to be not very good.

"Thank you," Aziraphale says, taking the jacket and spreading it over himself like a blanket.

Silence, except for the pit-pat of rain against the car, falls. And Aziraphale's breathing. Crowley's missed the way he breathes.

He literally twiddles his thumbs in his lap, trying to think of something to say or do.

"Things are a bit of a mess," Aziraphale says after what might have been several eternities. Crowley's lost count.

He opens his mouth to say something—something comforting, like that it's not all that bad, or that they'll figure it out, they're a team, they always figure it out.

And then Aziraphale continues, "and you tried to warn me."

His voice sounds so small that Crowley, naturally, like he always does, deflates like a sat-on whoopee cushion. Because the thing about Aziraphale is that he always really is trying to do the right thing. Because he still believes there's one true Right Thing to do. Because he's precious and wonderful and optimistic and good. Not a good angel. But a good person.

"Did you ever wonder why I might try to do that?" Crowley asks.

He's not sure he wants an answer. Either one's going to hurt.

Aziraphale falls silent again, which is probably for the best. The way the moonlight's hitting the window now, Crowley can see him reflected in it. Still the same Aziraphale. Heaven hasn't really changed him.

"Do you really think God created you to look out for me?"

Crowley sighs. "I don't know. Plan's, y'know, ineffable."

"Well it would explain why you keep doing it," Aziraphale says. "If it's all in the plan."

"Right," Crowley draws in on himself. Not getting through right now, then. "No other possible explanation for it, really."

"Well. There is one other possible explanation," Aziraphale offers hesitantly.

"Oh?" Crowley asks.

"Well... you might. I suppose. Be fond of me?"

Crowley glances over at him. Sighs. Okay, well. He's come to that conclusion, then. It's only taken a little over six thousand years. Practically no time at all.

He takes his sunglasses off. Stares out of the windscreen. Wonders if he can actually be discorporated by way of stomach knots. Gnaws on his lip.

And then gets very, very brave. "I might be," Crowley says, forcing himself to look Aziraphale in the eye. "I might even be in love with you."

Aziraphale swallows. He looks like he might either be sick or pass out from what Crowley realises at the last second isn't disgust.

It's nerves.

"You might," he says, looking away as he fiddles with Crowley's jacket. "And. And if you were. That would be very convenient for me. Because I... I think I've been in love with you for a very long time."

Crowley means to say something to that, but the nice satisfying thunk of the Bentley unlocking beats him to it.

"Well," Crowley says, running his tongue over his teeth. "That's probably enough to save the world, then. Shall we?"