Chapter Text
Crowley felt like he was roiling inside. He’d never known distress and despair quite like this. He was… He didn’t even know what he felt. But he knew it wasn’t good, and his heart clutched with grief and terror.
Bee was talking, and Crowley was trying very hard to listen, but he kept getting distracted. He knew it had something to do with them and Gabriel being together - as if Crowley gave a damn, especially right now. His mind was spinning, trying to figure out a way to get to Aziraphale, to talk to Aziraphale… until he heard another voice out of nowhere..
“It’s not the easiest thing we’ve ever done,” Gabriel said, shimmering into vision. “But I think we both think it’s worth it.” He looked at Bee with devotion.
“They’re my heaven, I’m their hell. We were meant to be together. We bucked the rules, we made our own choice, and now you’re being offered the same choice.”
“One of these two futures is yours,” Bee chimed in, and Crowley was stunned that he still had the capacity to be stunned when they joined hands. “For most beings, future possibilities are endless. But for the two of you, there are two roads.”
“Either you’re getting a happily ever after, or both of you are going directly to a hell of your own making.”
“Your choice,” Bee said, caustic.
“Choose wisely,” Gabriel added, then snapped his fingers.
Crowley stood there for a moment, stupefied, unsure what to think. He was in the bookshop, it looked like it always did - and there was Aziraphale across the room, standing stock still, looking just as confounded as Crowley felt with tear tracks on his face. The angel and the demon stared at each other for a moment that seemed to last forever, standing still as statues. There was no sound but the ticking of the grandfather clock on the side of the room, not even a breath. Everything was as still as could be - until suddenly the angel and demon were in motion, rushing towards each other without a single hesitation, throwing their arms around each other in the fiercest embrace in the history of the Earth.
There were no words exchanged, not yet. No words were required. For right now, the two of them just held each other as tight as they could, keeping the other secure in their arms, their faces buried in each other’s necks, and Crowley, for one, was taking the opportunity to fill his lungs, his heart, his entire self with the smell of Aziraphale.
Crowley was so shaken he didn’t even realize Aziraphale was crying for long minutes. As soon as he did, he pulled back just enough to look at Aziraphale, careful to keep him in his arms, taking in his sweet, splotchy, tear-streaked, beautiful face.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale sobbed, looking terrified and desperate. “Did you see? Were you-”
“They did this to you, too?”
Aziraphale nodded. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry -”
“No, I’m sorry,” Crowley rushed to say.
“You didn’t do anything, love.”
Crowley didn’t acknowledge that endearment - or the first one. This conversation needed to be had.
“I didn’t do anything, and that’s the point. I’ve been missing the fucking boat -”
“I have, too.” Aziraphale reached up to wipe tears from his own face, then surprised Crowley by wiping some off of his face. He hadn’t known he was crying. Completely fucking undemonic, but he didn’t give much of a shit right now. “Oh, Crowley, when I think about how I hurt you -”
“You didn’t.” Crowley felt an urgency he couldn’t explain. “You didn’t hurt me. Not yet. But I don’t want you to.”
“I don’t want to, either,” Aziraphale cried, tears still streaming. “I don’t want that. What we just saw, I don’t want it. Any of that - that- the things that happened in the bookshop. Not for us.”
Crowley put his forehead against Aziraphale’s, his hands still on Aziraphale’s arms, and closed his eyes. Their harsh, weepy breaths mingled between them, and it was incredibly intimate.
It was exactly what they both needed.
“I don’t want it either, angel.”
“I don’t want to fight you, darling,” Aziraphale said, still crying. “I don’t want to go back to heaven, I want… What I want is…”
“The cottage?”
He raised his head and gave Crowley a look with wide, red eyes. “You saw that, too?”
“The cute little cottage and the domestic life and the happiness? I did, yeah.”
Aziraphale let out a sob. “That’s what I want. I want it so badly, Crowley, but I could never -”
“That’s what I want, too, angel.”
Aziraphale raised his head to look at Crowley. “You mean, as an alternative to… the last fifteen minutes?”
He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a tear. “No, sweetheart. That’s what I want.”
“Do you really? You want that life, that quiet life, with m-”
He didn’t get to finish his last word. Crowley had heard enough. He’d had enough. He’d had enough uncertainty, he’d had enough of the maybes and what ifs. It was time to convince his angel of how he felt.
So he kissed Aziraphale, kissed him full on the mouth, using the hand on Aziraphale’s cheek to hold him still. He didn’t need to: Aziraphale melted into it, seeming to dissolve into Crowley’s arms, clutching Crowley’s back, leaning in…
He didn’t kiss Aziraphale long, certainly not as long as he wanted. But as short as it was - and it was entirely too short for Crowley’s taste - it did what he needed. It communicated the love he felt, and that was what was most important.
When they separated, both of them were a little out of breath. Crowley put his forehead back to Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale had his fists clutched in Crowley’s sleeves.
“Bloody hell, I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.”
Aziraphale’s blue-grey (but red-rimmed) eyes were wide and his voice was tremulous when he raised his head and said, “Do that again.”
Without question or hesitation, Crowley did. He kissed him much longer this time, communicating even more of his love and adoration, hoping Aziraphale could sense his devotion. This kiss was more luxurious, more full of promise. Crowley had avoided anything that might be addictive for six thousand years, but now - now he knew that he was addicted to Aziraphale’s kisses. He was going to need to taste the angel’s lips as often as possible for the rest of his existence.
“I have to - I have to tell you something, Crowley.”
He was back to cradling Aziraphale’s cheek, and was smiling when he commanded gently, “Tell me, angel. Please.”
Aziraphale looked terrified and exhilarated. “I love you, darling. I do. I love you so much - and I choose the cottage. I want to make it happen. I want to make it real.”
Crowley was still grinning now cradling his face with both hands. “I could give a fig about the cottage,” he said, then stroked Aziraphale’s cheek when his face fell a little. “I mean, yes, I want that, but if we don’t live in a cottage by the sea, if we stay here in London, if we move to Greenland - or Alpha Centauri - I don’t care. I’m choosing you, angel. I want to be with you, I want to have a life with you. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you by my side. Me and you. A pair. A couple.”
“A couple, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, tears wobbling in his eyes again. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really. I… fuck, angel. I love you so much I’m shocked I haven’t discorporated from it.”
Aziraphale let out a sob and threw his arms around Crowley’s neck, hugging him tight. Crowley had his arms wrapped just as securely around Aziraphale, never ever wanting to let go.
“I love you, angel,” he murmured into Aziraphale’s sweet smelling hair. “I love you, and I’m sorry I’ve never told you.”
“I’m sorry for that, too,” Aziraphale said. “There have been so many times I wanted to tell you - do you know how hard it has been to refrain from shouting at you that you have been my only love for several centuries, and that people like Oscar were genuinely just friends? Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you seduce -”
“I never seduced anyone. Not to the point that I slept with them or anything. Angel, you’ve had my heart for about two thousand years.”
Aziraphale sobbed into his shoulder again. When he settled, he asked, "Do you think we can do that, darling? Have a spot that's just us?"
"We can absolutely do it, if we want. We might need to talk to each other a bit better than we're used to doing. All that…” He waved his hand a little, “healthy communication shit the humans are always banging on about. But we can make it happen."
“Darling, I feel like I can do anything, as long as I’m with you.”
“You’re gonna be with me, sweetheart. I’m keeping you with me.” He paused for a moment to kiss Aziraphale lightly, just because he wanted to, just because he could. “I want that, though. A little home that’s just ours? A life with you? Yeah, I want that.”
“Did you know you wanted that?”
“Maybe. Kind of. I think I did and I didn’t.”
“Me, too. I never thought before - - I never really even thought to dream. I just assumed… I assumed it was impossible, and then when I realized it was possible, I was sure you wouldn’t want it."
"I know. I thought the same thing, honestly. But it's our side now. Me and you, we’re a team. I’m yours, if you’ll have me. And I’d like you to be mine.”
Aziraphale let out another sob, but this one sounded happy. “Oh, God, Crowley, the things they showed me…”
“What did they show you?”
“It was - it was Valentine’s Days of the past, at first. They showed me -”
“1941?” Crowley guessed. “The Blitz?”
“Yes.” Aziraphale looked abashed. “I had my heart on my face that night, and had no idea of it.”
Crowley smiled a little. “I didn’t either, until Hastur took me back and showed you.”
“Hastur?”
“Yeah. I got Hastur, Shax, and Bee.”
“I had Uriel, Muriel, and Gabriel.”
“Fuck, your lot is fond of ending names in -iel, eh?”
There was a warm smile on Aziraphale’s face. “They’re not my lot, darling. Not anymore. You are - at least, I’m throwing in my lot with you. If that’s alright?”
“Fuck yes. Ssssomeone, please, yes. Throw your lot in with me.”
“Then that’s what I’m doing, and all the more joyful for it. I’m so joyful, I could just explode.”
“Don’t do that,” Crowley teased lightly. “Might be messsssy.”
“It would be. And it would preclude talking.”
Crowley took a highly reluctant step back. “Ah, yeah. The talking. I’m not so great at the talking.”
“Neither of us, I fear. We might need a little while to do all the talking this situation calls for.”
“Angel, honestly, I will be happy to talk to you about this for the rest of existence, if that’s what you want. We can talk in minute detail about everything we saw and felt. But for right now, nghh…” He stammered, trailing off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you think we could just, like, hit the high spots and build up to the deep conversation?”
“Anything you want, darling, it’s yours.” Crowley’s knees went a little wobbly when Aziraphale kissed him sweetly. “I think I need a drink. Tea? Cocoa?”
“Scotch?” Crowley asked hopefully.
Aziraphale hesitated a moment. “I think, perhaps, we should be entirely clear headed for this part. At least at this juncture, until we ‘hit the high spots’, as you said.”
"Nnnnnnghyyyyeah, alright. You’re probably right. but we are having a very alcoholic breakfast later, yeah?"
The angel Crowley loved glanced over at the clock. “It’s just gone five. I’m afraid the Ritz doesn’t open for breakfast until eight. Do you think you can spend a couple hours with me?”
“I just promised to spend forever with you, angel,” Crowley reminded him.
Aziraphale’s eyes watered again and Crowley sought to comfort him. “Hey, now, none of that.”
“It’s just that… I just told you that nothing lasts forever.”
“Do you believe that? Because as for me, I think some things are more or less eternal.”
“Do you,” Aziraphale cleared his throat from the frog lodged in it. “Do you think you’ll love me forever?”
Again, Crowley sought to tease. “I think it’s a good thing you’re so pretty, because right at this moment, you’re being dense as concrete.”
Aziraphale smiled back, gently. “Darling, we’ve both been dense as concrete.”
“You’re right, we have. But maybe we can fix that, a little bit at a time.”
“I like that idea. Let’s start with sitting down, drinking a coffee or two, and maybe touching on the heavier topics that we need to cover.”
Crowley hated talking, he hated showing emotion, he hated feeling vulnerable. But he wanted that life with Aziraphale, with the little cottage and the disobedient shrubberies. He wanted it so bad he could taste it on his tongue, just underneath the taste of Aziraphale’s kisses.
“Sounds good to me, angel.”
On 14 February in the not too distant future, in a spacious cottage in the South Downs, near the sea, Aziraphale was just putting the finishing touches on the meal he’d elected to make tonight. He’d taken up cooking and baking, once he’d had the space (and desire) to do so, and had proven to be quite adept. There might have been a little miracle applied here and there, but on the whole, he was relying on his own skill and was quite proud of that fact.
This meal, tonight, was a little more involved (and had involved a few more miracles, as a result). But Aziraphale knew Crowley - who had taken up eating to complement Aziraphale’s newfound hobby - would love it.
The demon he loved was in the rear garden, lecturing the rhododendron he complained was, quote, ‘a willful, hardheaded arsehole’. Aziraphale never bothered to point out that plants didn’t have heads, much less hard heads. The ginger head on that demon’s shoulders was quite hard, itself.
Aziraphale stuck his head out the back door, calling into the garden, telling Crowley to come inside. Crowley gave the rhododendron a disgruntled sneer, but when he turned to saunter across the garden, he was smiling at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled back at him the entire way, until Crowley met him at the door.
“When are you going to quit haranguing that poor plant?” Aziraphale asked, accepting a kiss.
“When it gets its shit together and does what it’s supposed to. Don’t think I don’t know you’re part of the problem,” Crowley said, taking off his boots in the mud room. “You’re soft on them behind my back.”
“I admit nothing,” Aziraphale sniffed. In truth, he was not at all soft on the rhododendron behind Crowley’s back. The rhododendron had given up the fight several months ago, willing to go along with Crowley’s will, but Aziraphale was employing miracles to keep the rhododendron obstinate. Yelling at that plant was one of Crowley’s greatest joys, and Aziraphale was not about to deny him any such pleasure.
“Mhm,” Crowley said, shedding his coat and muddy gloves. “That’s an admission in itself.”
“How you do run on,” Aziraphale sniffed again, going to the kitchen in part so he could smile without being spotted.
“Something smells good,” Crowley said, following him into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s waist from behind.
“It’s a crown roast of pork with mushroom dressing.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Crowley murmured into Aziraphale’s neck, nuzzling him and making him giggle.
“Oh, you flatterer.”
“Seriously,” Crowley said, picking up an olive and tossing it into his mouth. They were not pitted, but Crowley expected them to be, so they were. “What’s the occasion?” he asked as he chewed.
“Take a look at the calendar, darling.”
Crowley turned towards the calendar hanging on the pantry door. “Oh, shit. It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?”
“It surely is. Which is, as I’m sure you remember, a very significant day in our history.”
“Not the least of which because we got our shit together that day.”
“It’s our anniversary, yes,” Aziraphale agreed, putting some chopped pecans into a dish.
Crowley’s head propped to the side. “Wait. This isn’t exactly what Bee and Gabe showed us.”
“No, it’s not. This is our third -”
“Fourth.”
“Fourth 14 February in our cottage, and we haven’t ever seen exactly what they told us our future was. Although, admittedly, this year is the closest.”
“What do you think that means?” Crowley asked, now reaching for a date.
“I think I am not much in the mood to think about the implications at the moment. I just want to celebrate my anniversary with the demon I’m spending eternity with.”
“Sounds good to me, angel.”
Aziraphale turned around, smiling, taking off his frilly apron that Crowley pretended to hate. “Now, if you’re open to a suggestion -”
“What’s that?”
“This needs to cook at a low temperature for a couple of hours. I was thinking that perhaps, if you were interested, we could retire to the lounge -”
Crowley looked immediately excited. “Are you going to play with my hair?”
“I thought I might, yes,” Aziraphale said serenely, hanging the apron on its hook.
“Hell yes,” Crowley said, triumphant. “I’m gonna go change out of these mucky clothes, but I’ll meet you there in a minute, yeah?”
Aziraphale kissed him, smiling against his lips when it ended. “Don’t be long, darling.”
“I won’t. Promise.” Crowley took a turn to kiss Aziraphale. “Love you, angel.”
“I love you, too, darling. Happy Anniversary.”
Crowley beamed at him. “Only amongst the first of many. Back in a minute.” He started down the corridor, but called over his shoulder, “Don’t go anywhere. You haven’t played with my hair in, like, three whole days. I’m starved for it..”
Aziraphale watched him hasten towards the bedroom, a little afraid he was going to explode into radiant light from the magnitude of love and joy he felt.