Archive of Our Own

“So how was your date?”

The pile of books in Asa’s arms threatens to tumble to the ground as he jumps, startled by the question. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat, hurrying to put the pile down on the nearest surface before he does something silly like drop them to the floor.

“What date?” he feigns ignorance, flashing a confused smile towards Derek. The man raises his eyebrows. Right. “Oh. Well. Tip top! We had dinner. I’m not sure it was a, well…”

He makes a vague gesture with his hands, then occupies himself with shelving the books. Anything not to show just how affected he is by the line of questioning.

“You sprinted after him and he immediately agreed to take you to dinner. D’you think he does that sort of thing all the time?”

Asa pauses, hand hovering over a shelf. No, he does not, he thinks. He said so himself.

“You know,” Anthony said, running his fingertips over the rim of his glass. “I don’t do this sort of thing often. Or at all, really.”

Asa blinked, confused. “Eat food?”

“No,” Anthony laughed. “I eat food all the time. Well, when I remember to. No, I meant…” Anthony gestured at the two of them, their table. “This. Dinner with someone I just met. Dinner with anyone, really.”

“Oh, I’d think, surely…”

“What?” He leaned forward and rested his chin in his hand. The intensity of his gaze had Asa blushing. “You think I ask out any old bookseller I meet?” His gaze softened. “No. There’s… something about you.”

Asa shakes his head, waving away the memory of the previous night.

“No,” he replies softly. “I don’t suppose he does.”

“Well then there you go. Professor Anthony Crowley! At least you’ve got an educated one.”

“One dinner hardly means anything!” Asa cries out in protest. His face is burning, but as much as he wants to hide it, he forces himself to glance over his shoulder in an attempt to glare at Derek. The man enjoys jostling him far too much. “It’s not like I’m getting married to him.”

Derek clicks his tongue. “People have done stranger things than that. He seems like a good sort.”

“I’m not– it’s not–”

“Excuse me?” A Scottish, awfully familiar, voice interrupts them, calling from the front of the store. Asa is pretty certain by now his face is the color of a beetroot.

“You were saying?” Derek mouths at him before turning away to greet their… well, customer. Although Asa already has a feeling he’s not here to buy books.

The next few seconds he spends gathering himself mentally, swiping his hands over his waistcoat to smooth out any wrinkles, catching his breath. Even with all that preparation, though, he’s still not ready for the sight of Anthony who trudges into the cramped space with a cardboard box in his arms and a potted plant perched on top of it. His sunglasses are sliding down his nose, his hair is sticking out in all directions and he’s a tad out of breath, too.

“Hi,” he says with a toothy smile and inclines his head towards the plant. “Grab the pot, please?”

Asa nods quickly, having not quite processed the situation just yet. He picks up the pot and cradles it to his chest. In it grows an orchid, yellow and quite pretty.

“So, um–” Anthony drops the box onto the floor unceremoniously. He reaches a hand up to push the sunglasses up his nose, then remembers where he is and takes them off, swaps them with practiced movements for a pair of glasses tucked away in his right jacket pocket. “You sold the last copy yesterday, so I thought I’d bring you more.”

He crouches in front of the box, pops open one of the flaps. Inside, as Asa has suspected already, are copies of his book.

“I’m not sure that we–” Asa looks over his shoulder, searching for Derek, but he is nowhere to be seen. He drops his gaze to the box and Anthony who’s grinning up at him. “I mean, it’s–”

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He laughs and gets to his feet. “Nor do you have to sell them. Give them away for all I care. I just thought, you know. They’ve been gathering dust for ages, it’s a shame. Maybe there’s someone out there who wants to read this drivel, at least now they get a chance to.”

“I wouldn’t call it drivel!” Asa hurries to say. He tightens his grip on the pot, hugs it even closer to his chest. “It seems quite… fascinating, really.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow. His eyes sparkle with mirth. “Oh? Did you start reading it?”

“Well… not as such…”

Anthony snorts, and for some reason Asa doesn’t feel as though he needs to defend himself. It doesn’t feel like Anthony is laughing at him at all. In fact, Asa thinks, he’d like to do any old silly thing just to get him to laugh again. “No, I didn’t think you would,” he hums. “Anyway, you’re lucky I didn’t bring you both the boxes I have. I thought just this once, I’d be merciful.”

“Very kind of you, truly,” Asa huffs and Anthony’s smile widens. “And the, ah…?” He looks down at the plant.

“Yes!” Anthony exclaims, as if remembering the pot is in fact still there, cradled in Asa’s arms. “Gift. I would’ve brought a bouquet, but, ehhhh–” He waves his hand. “This one won’t die. Well, it could, but I trust you to take care of it.”

“Oh,” Asa gasps, his knuckles going white with the tightness of his grip. “I don’t have much of a green thumb, admittedly…” In the back of his head, though, he’s already sorting through the gardening section, wondering if there’s anything in there that could help him. He’d hate to see the poor thing wither away; even more so to see a disappointed look on Anthony’s face if it did. Gosh. Assuming he’d be there to witness it. He’s truly getting ahead of himself here.

“Lucky for you, I do. I’ll give you some pointers.” Before Asa can react, Anthony bends down to lift the discarded box. “Where do you want these?”

“Ah, in the back, for now, would be lovely. Thank you.”

Anthony follows him through the elaborate passages and drops off the box where instructed. Asa, meanwhile, never lets go of the pot, as though holding a precious gem he’s afraid to lose track of for even a single moment. His eyes trail after Anthony in much the same way.

When they reemerge on the main store floor, Anthony clears his throat.

“So, I was wondering…” He shoves his hands into his pockets and appears to be debating with himself how to continue. “Do you get a lunch break around here?”

Asa opens his mouth to reply, but never gets to, as Derek cuts in, “He does and I think it’s right about now!”

“Perfect!” Anthony grins. “Grab your jacket, then. There’s a sushi place I wanna take you to.”

Asa doesn’t mention the sandwiches he’s got tucked away in his bag. How could he? A gorgeous man has just asked him to a meal. Again! It’s all been quite a whirlwind.

In any case, that’s how he finds himself ten minutes later sitting in a sushi restaurant, a potted plant in his lap. He hadn’t meant to bring it, but in his rush to keep up with Anthony, the plant has remained glued to his hands.

Something which Anthony decides to relentlessly poke fun at him about.

“You do know you can let go of it, right?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to bring it here, but you just– well, you just whisked me away like a, a–” Asa pauses, looking for the right word.

“Like a…?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of ridiculous person.”

Anthony snorts. “I didn’t see you complaining earlier. Should I not be buying you lunch after all?”

“Oh, don’t even say that, the lunch is lovely, thank you. And so is the company, I just… well, it’s all been rather unexpected, that’s all.”

Anthony nods, a suddenly bashful look appearing on his face. “Sorry. I know I can be rather… intense, when I set my mind on something. Someone. It’s not usually people, actually.”

“What do you usually set your mind on, then?”

“Oh, you know. Stars, nebulas. Plants. Law of physics. I’m really rather predictable, when it comes down to it. Narrow range of interests.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Asa reassures. He glances down at the plant, fiddles with one of its leaves. “What is it about me, then?” It’s been on his mind since last night and the question has only increased in its intensity seeing Anthony seeking him out so soon after. “I really wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” he voices the rest of his thought.

Anthony breathes in deeply. He doesn’t say anything for a while and Asa can just barely see his leg bouncing under the table, an anxious pattern. He wonders if perhaps asking that question has been a step too far. I mean, who asks that sort of thing, really? What does he expect Anthony to say, sing his praise? They barely know each other. And if there’s one way to put off a potential… partner, maybe, or at least a casual date, it’s this. Has to be. Goodness, really, he ought to be apologizing before–

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night,” Anthony finally says and Asa catches his breath. He hasn’t even realized he had been silently spiralling until Anthony’s voice brings him back to the present moment. “You know, yesterday, how I told you I stepped in to get a book? Truth is, I saw you through the window.” Anthony smiles gently, his gaze flickers to Asa before running away somewhere else.

Asa finds it hard to breathe again. “But then you just walked out,” he manages to say.

Anthony smiles again. “You didn’t say anything,” he says slowly. He drums his fingers on the table. He looks up, narrows his eyes, as though searching for something in Asa’s face. “Bit inappropriate, to hit on you while you’re just doing your job.”

“Surely you must have seen how flustered I was…”

Anthony shakes his head, but not as though saying no. Asa, all of a sudden, struggles to read him. Something seems to be going through his head, something that he’s refusing to share. “I wasn’t sure if–” he trails off. “But then you ran after me. That settled it.”

Asa’s mouth hangs open. To think that he could’ve lost it all, had he not gone after him. Somehow the thought courses through him like electricity, a pang of fear that could very well split his heart in half. He’s not sure why the emotion is so strong.

“I–”

“Look, our food’s here!” Like a switch, the melancholic look on Anthony’s face is wiped away, replaced by a wide grin as he moves their glasses out of the way to let the waiter place down plates upon plates of sushi. Despite how enticing the food is, Asa finds himself watching his companion rather than the glistening rice and seaweed. He hopes that even a glance will reveal something more, that Anthony will open himself up when he thinks Asa isn’t looking.

He doesn’t.

It’s only when Anthony catches his eye that Asa remembers himself and makes a point of cooing happily at the food, as though he hadn’t just been caught staring. Though, if Anthony did notice, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Dig in,” he prompts.

“Yes, I do believe I will… oh, this all looks absolutely scrumptious. How did you say you found this place?”

“Oh, a– friend recommended it.”

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Explain it to me again?”

The sushi had sat in front of them, untouched, for the past few hours, to the astonishment, and perhaps offense, of the surrounding staff. Still, no one had dared approach them, not after a few pointed glares from the person of indeterminate gender sitting across from Anthony.

“A pocket univerze,” they sighed, their s coming out sharp, like a buzzing. They unfolded their finger in front of them and from a closed fist flew out a single fly. “In here.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “You’re telling me there’s a… whole universe inside a fly. Do you realize how absolutely bonkers that sounds? I mean, the implications of another universe existing within ours, not to mention the fact that we can perceive it at all– we’re not just talking here about a brane floating near ours, this– this pocket universe, inside a bloody fly too, would have to consist of particles smaller than–”

“Look,” they cut them off, rolling their eyes. “It’s not my fault human theory has never been able to catch up to reality. You’d know.”

Anthony blinked and stared at them, bewildered. As far as he knew, he had no idea.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” their dinner companion continued with a sigh.

“So you and your… friend hid in there. In a fly. That’s what you’re telling me.”

“Yes. As soon as we realized the univerze was coming to an end.”

“And now you’re here. After being inside of a fly.”

“It’s really not that difficult to grasp, is it, profezzzzor?” they spat, annoyed.

Anthony shook his head. He crossed his arms on top of his chest, a frown on his face. He wasn’t sure why he was even entertaining this.

“Because deep down, you know I’m right.”

“How did you–”

“Nothing occult. You’re just pretty damn easy to read, Crowley.”

Once more, Anthony shook his head. This was ridiculous. “Thanks for the food, but I think I have to get going now,” he said, getting to his feet.

“You haven’t even touched it.”

“Not really hungry. My bad.”

“You don’t eat much, do you?”

“I’m an artist, we don’t eat,” he huffed, fumbling with his coat.

“Earlier, profezzor, you said you were a scientist.”

Anthony paused then hurried to shrug on his coat, hoping to mask the brief moment of confusion. “Can’t I be both?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

Just when he moved to take a step away from their table, they stood up as well.

“Aziraphale,” they said. Anthony froze. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Do you recognize that name?”

He couldn’t move from where he stood, one hand on the back of his chair, halfway on the way out. “I don’t– wh– nghk–”

“He liked books, and sushi. I think.”

“Why would you tell me any of this?” Anthony snapped, turning towards them. “If we’re going with the insane idea that what you’re saying is true– why tell me?”

“Because I was hoping you’d have some answers as to what in Hell has happened here.”

“You said you and your friend, this Jim or Gabriel or whatever his bloody name is, that you were hunted. According to all this… sci-fi nonsense you’ve told me, you two are now free. So maybe enjoy it instead. And leave me alone.”

With that, he walked out, not sparing them another glance.

Asa hums around a bite of sushi, eyes closed and an expression of pure bliss painted on his face.

“Well, your friend appears to have exquisite taste, dear.”

Anthony glances down at their plates, his sushi untouched yet again. He forces himself to reach for the chopsticks and pick up a roll. He can eat. He bloody well does eat, just like a perfectly regular person does. Not a demon at all. Or whatever they think he is.

“Tell me about it,” he says while chewing. He forces himself to swallow, now painfully aware of how much the food in his mouth tastes like ash. How it always has. But that’s a human experience to have, too, isn’t it? Must be.

Fortunately, the sight of Asa eating is enough to distract him. The man seems to savour every tiny morsel, every roll and every bite. Every sip of sake, too. It’s enough to loosen the knots in Anthony’s back, more than enough for him to gently nudge the plate closer to Asa. Let him enjoy it.

“Oh– you’ve hardly touched any, don’t let me hog it all.”

“Not really hungry,” Anthony says. He takes a sip before his mind conjures up the sound of that buzzing voice again. “Go on, Asa.”

“Dear– are you quite certain? I wouldn’t wish to…”

“I’m sure. Enjoy.”

Asa doesn’t object any more. He smiles and with newfound eagerness digs into the rest of the food. Anthony leans back, breathing out softly as his lips hover over the rim of his glass. He does like books, and sushi. What else could Beelzebub be right about?

“How are things with Nina?”

The moment Asa mentioned her name, Maggie brightened up. Her expression forced a smile onto Asa’s own face and he allowed himself a long sip of his tea while he listened to her.

“Oh, Nina is lovely! We’re taking things slowly, after what happened with her previous partner, but I really do hope…” she trailed off and wrapped her hands around her mug. Asa nodded in understanding.

“Well, I do wish you luck,” he said warmly. “I know how much you two care for one another.”

Maggie smiled – and then Asa watched in real time as an Idea occurred to her. “We should find you someone!” she exclaimed. “You’re lovely, Asa, there must be a man just for you.”

It wasn’t the first time the topic had come up, Asa having been a hopeless bachelor for many years of their friendship. As always, he shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know…” He stared into the surface of his tea, at his own aging face. “I’m quite content with my books, you know. A man might just…” He waved his hand vaguely. “–muck it all up.”

“Are you really afraid of that?”

Was he? “Well… I’ve just never felt much of a desire for it. A relationship, that is.”

Maggie seemed to consider her words carefully, but then she said them regardless, “Doesn’t it get… lonely?”

“Lonely?” Asa chuckled. He ignored the aching in his heart, the empty space there, the particular shape of it, all sharp angles. “Not at all, dear. I’m not lonely at all.”

The man that stands on his doorstep is decidedly… new. And yet familiar, somehow. He’s holding out a packet of crisps.

“Crisps?” he offers, and Asa stares blankly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve ordered anything…” He can’t help, but give into the strange feeling, “Have we met before? Do you live nearby? Oh, it’s Jim, isn’t it?”

The man’s expression drops and he lowers his offering. “No. It’s Gabriel,” he grunts. And then that fake, corporate smile is back on his face as he pushes past Asa and walks inside, uninvited. “Nice place you’ve got here, sunshine!”

“Who– excuse me, but I don’t believe you should be– who are you?”

Gabriel – the name still feels wrong, he really does look more like a Jim, Asa thinks – turns his head towards him. Asa notes that his eyes seem to be an unnatural shade. Purple. Contacts, perhaps?

“You really don’t recognize me?” he asks, eyes narrowed. Like he doesn’t believe him. Asa shakes his head. “Huh. You know, when Beelzebub told me… I thought, surely not. I mean, you’d remember me! I’m quite hard to forget, after all.”

He roams the room, looking at the books, the knick knacks strewn about, memories of a simple life Asa has lived. Asa doesn’t quite know what to do – should he call the police? Should he grab a knife? Neither of those he wants to do, but there’s a stranger in his home and the sight of him makes his skin crawl. He can’t help but stand to attention, shoulders tense, hands folded at his stomach to stop from fluttering about anxiously.

“Well, um.” He smiles politely. His smile goes tight when he sees Gabriel linger in front of a picture of himself and his mother when he was 30 years younger. “Perhaps you could tell me how we’ve met? Refresh my memory.”

Perhaps he can call Derek. Or Anthony. Only, his phone is in another room and he has no way of getting to it without alerting the stranger.

“Is that you?” Gabriel points at the same picture he’s been staring at for the past minute. In it, Asa and his mother are both smiling, her hands on his shoulders. He really does miss her.

Asa doesn’t know how to respond. Perhaps the safest route, for now, is to humor him – and so he nods.

“You’ve lived a whole life…” Gabriel says, a wondrous tinge to the words. “Did you like it, Aziraphale? Your life?”

Asa swallows. Two conflicting thoughts spring up at once – is he threatening me? and what did he just call me?

“What did you call me?”

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel exclaims, throwing his arms to his sides. He waits, clearly expecting a reaction. When Asa shakes his head, he drops his arms. “Really? Nothing?”

“I’m not– look, you must have me mistaken for someone.” It’s the kindest explanation Asa can think of, though he suspects it is not a correct one. Would he leave if he started yelling? Would some of his neighbours come to check up on him? “I’d appreciate it if you left now.”

Rather than leave, Gabriel narrows his eyes. He steps in closer – Asa takes a step back. They keep at it until Asa feels the doorknob against his back. Well, at least like this he has a quick escape route. More or less.

“Let me show you,” Gabriel says. He lifts a hand. “It won’t hurt, Aziraphale, all you have to do is remember.”

It must be his fraying nerves, Asa thinks, the way that last word seems to echo, a voice bigger than his body coming out of Gabriel’s mouth. Like yelling into a well. Or standing in an enormous cave. He flinches, twists the door handle and sees it, then, a single image, a split second still frame.

Red hair. Yellow eyes. A voice, one he already knows, but with a different accent to it, calling out, ‘Angel!’.

It’s there and gone before Asa has the time to truly comprehend what he just saw. He pushes the door open and tumbles back with it, one hand on the handle, the other one in front of him, on defense.

“Please just leave!” he snaps. Gabriel opens his mouth, but Asa stands his ground. “Leave,” he repeats. “Or I’ll start screaming.”

Finally, the message gets through. Gabriel steps out of his flat. The packet of crisps he’s still holding crinkles with every step and the sound grates on Asa, to the point that he has to resist the urge to smack it out of his hand.

“Was it all worth it?” Gabriel asks, now in the corridor. He looks at Asa with bright, curious eyes, not at all suited to the man of his stature. “This new… life of yours, with the demon. Is it worth it?”

“Just go.”

He doesn’t push it anymore. He turns away and walks down the corridor and Asa waits, staring at his retreating back until he’s gone behind a corner. Only then does he close the door, slumping against it as soon as he’s inside the safety of his own home. He needs better locks, he thinks, just in case.

He closes his eyes in hopes to catch his breath, but it comes back to him, those eyes. His mouth goes dry. His fingers itch and buzz, something restless trying to crawl its way out of his body. Yellow, where there should be brown.

A figment of his imagination. He definitely needs a drink.

In a sushi restaurant just off Berwick Street, two supernatural beings sit squeezed into a booth seat much too small to fit both of them. They stare at a large tray of sushi that had just been brought to their table. Neither of them reach for it. The waitstaff eyes them suspiciously, but this particular occurrence has become just another regular part of the job. Here they are, they will whisper to one another as they pass by their table, not eating again.

“So how was Edinburgh?” Beelzebub asks.

“The statue is gone,” Gabriel replies. “Which is a shame.”

Belzeebub hums and nods. With everything that has happened, they’d be more surprised to hear that it was still there.

“And the angel?” they press on.

Gabriel shakes his head. “It’s like you said. He doesn’t remember. He didn’t even want to talk to me.”

“What happened? What did you tell him?”

“Well, I came to his home, as I thought he’d feel the most comfortable there,” he begins to explain. “But he was just…” He frowns, searching for the right emotion. “–surprised. He told me to leave without even letting me explain.”

Beelzebub sighs. “No luck, then.”

“None.”

Gabriel picks up a container of wasabi and moves it to the other side of the table. He sits back.

“And the demon?” he asks eventually.

“Well, he actually listened to me, at least, but it’s still Crowley. He doesn’t wanna believe it.”

Gabriel nods. “We should try again, then. You focus on the demon, and I’ll handle Aziraphale. I think I might have an idea on how to get through to him.”

Even several drinks of wine and two bars of chocolate aren’t enough for Asa to shake off the image. Red hair. Yellow eyes. Angel.

He doesn’t know what forces his hand, then, the alcohol or his spiralling thoughts. The anxiety? He can’t stop staring at his door. He reaches for his phone.

It takes a few rings before Anthony picks up. “Mghmm– Asa?” he asks groggily.

“Hi,” Asa says, a fleeting smile. “Did I wake you?”

“No– I mean, I was just having a nap.” Anthony sniffs. Asa can picture him rubbing at his eyes with his other hand – it’s an endearing image. He opts to focus on this one rather than the red hair, yellow eyes. “What’s up?”

“Ah–” He hesitates. He’s not sure why his first instinct has been to call for Anthony – Anthony who he’s only known for a few days, has only been out on two dates with, a stranger, really. He could’ve called Derek. Maggie. Any of his many other friends. But no, he has chosen him. “It’s a little silly.”

“Oh?” Even by the tone of voice alone, Asa can tell Anthony is intrigued. “Big silly fan, me. ‘Specially when it’s you.”

Asa huffs a laugh. Perhaps this explains his choice well enough; how easily Anthony makes him smile. “I’ve just been wondering… have you ever dyed your hair?”

“Dyed my– I mean, yeah, sure, when I was in my twenties… why are you asking? Wait, are you gonna dye yours?”

“No, no!” Goodness, no. Asa balks at the thought alone. He cannot imagine himself with any other color of hair, at all, thank you very much. He runs a hand over the top of his head, soothing himself. “No,” he insists. Then, before he can reconsider, “What colour?”

“Did green for a tiny bit, absolute disaster,” Anthony mutters. “Red, mostly. Thought it was… you know, cool. Haven’t done it in years, though, I’m sure now it’d make me look like a washed up rockstar.”

Red hair. Yellow eyes. Asa desperately squeezes his own eyes shut. “Bright red? Like… the colour of wine?”

“Ehhhhh… yeah, wine’s close. I’m sure I’ve got a picture somewhere… Well, maybe. Anyway, what is this about? You’re not just calling me at–” There’s a pause, presumably as Anthony checks the time. “–10 in the evening just to inquire about hair colours, are you?”

How would he even begin to explain this? “I… suppose I kind of am,” Asa forces himself to say. “I just saw a… someone that reminded me of you.” Not technically a lie, or so he tells himself. “Made me wonder.”

“Really?”

Asa huffs. “Yes, really.”

“You just sound a little…” Anthony doesn’t finish for quite a while. Eventually, he seems to change his mind. “Nevermind. Not like I’m gonna complain about calls from you.”

“It sounds like you are. Complaining, that is,” Asa mutters petulantly. He glances into his glass. As if all of… everything hasn’t been bad enough, he appears to be running out of wine.

“No, I’m not,” Anthony says on an exhale. Then, softer, as though sensing Asa’s sour mood, “I mean that. You can call me any time. Talk about anything. Bloody… dolphins. Whales. I don’t know. Anything.”

Asa tips the bottle over. He manages to wiggle a few more drops into his glass. “What about dolphins?”

“You tell me! Big brains, I hear. Damn big brains.”

This time, Asa actually laughs. Properly and loudly and unashamedly, for the first time since that strange… man had left his flat.

“What? They are!” Anthony cries out on the other side of the call, but the smile is clear in his voice.

“You are silly,” Asa says in between his laughter. “Is that all you know about dolphins?”

“Why, do you know anything more? Go on, then, impress me, Mr Encyclopedic Knowledge of Dolphins.”

Asa knows not a thing about dolphins. But that’s hardly an issue – the call continues until either of them is too tired to speak, voices worn out from laughter, joyful tears gathered in the corners of their eyes.

The red hair, yellow eyes entirely forgotten. At least for the moment.

There was a man bustling about on the other side of the bookstore window. Anthony couldn’t look away.

He was blond, wearing a yellow waistcoat, or a jumper, and there really was nothing particularly remarkable about him. He seemed to be about Anthony’s age; his eyes, if Anthony was to guess, probably blue. He was round and likely quite strong, if the muscles peeking out from under his rolled up sleeves were anything to go by. He was also carrying a likely heavy box of books.

He was absolutely, utterly average. He was gorgeous. Anthony stood in the middle of the sidewalk and couldn’t even force his eyes away from him.

‘He liked books’, the words came to him despite his best attempts to shake off the earlier encounter. Aziraphale, they said. He could be an Aziraphale, couldn’t he?

It was a ridiculous thought. But he was gorgeous and worst case, Anthony would just walk out with another book to put on his bookshelf. No loss there.

He breathed in deeply, braced himself, and forced his feet to cooperate. He walked in.

He doesn’t know how he knows he’ll find them there, but he does. Same day of the week, same hour, same table. Same plates of sushi, untouched.

Anthony sighs. He doesn’t reach for the chair. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“You’ll ruin sushi for me if we keep having these conversations here.” Or rather, they’ll ruin Asa eating the sushi for him. He doesn’t want to say all that, though. “Let’s go somewhere else. The bloody park, St James’, anywhere but here.”

Beelzebub considers the suggestion. Finally, they nod and stand up.

Anthony leaves a 100 quid bill on the table. For the trouble.

Asa’s mouth begins to water the moment the plate is placed in front of him. He smiles and thanks the waiter profusely, never taking his eyes off the fried eggs, the toast, the accompanying sausages. The scent is simply marvelous and he cannot wait to dig in. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, but when he blinks them open, the moment is ruined.

There’s a man with purple eyes sitting across from him.

Asa freezes. Oh, no. Not this again.

“I’m Jim,” the man says, and smiles.

He’s the same man from his flat – obviously – but he’s dressed differently, beige and tartan and soft fabrics. A twin? Gosh, as if one of them wasn’t bad enough.

He swallows thickly. “Can I help you?”

Gabriel – Jim? Asa is not sure anymore – raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I just wanted to talk.”

Asa glances around. He could leave. He could just stand up and leave – but he hasn’t even had lunch yet, and besides, regardless if there’s one of them, or two– well, they know where he lives. Here, at least, he finds himself in the relative safety of a public space. He decides he will bear it, for now.

“Of course,” he says with a thinly veiled annoyance. “What would you like to talk about, Jim?”

Jim/Gabriel grins, as though pleased to be called that way. “Yes. Exactly. Jim. You remember Jim, don’t you?”

Asa sighs. He picks up his fork and knife. It is looking to be an exceptionally long afternoon.

Anthony tosses a pea into the lake. Then another one. Then another. He doesn’t take his gaze away from the ducks. He’s frowning.

“Tell me about him.” He inhales sharply. “Aziraphale.”

Beelzebub stands at his side. Their eyes are trained on the side of his face, so intently that it’s driving him nuts. He offers them the bag of peas and nods towards the lake. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches them – they pick up two peas, look them over.

“There’zz not much I can tell you,” they say, experimentally tossing one pea towards the lake. “I didn’t know him – you did.”

“You said he’s– that Asa is him.”

“He lookzzz like him. Same face. Has a bookzhop, too.”

Anthony frowns at that. “Asa doesn’t have a bookshop, he just works there.”

“Aziraphale did.” They grab a handful of peas this time. “In Soho, too.” One by one, the peas land in the water. “I waz there once. Impozzzibly big on the inside, with theze big columns, bookzzz everywhere… I thought it had quite a lot of Hell in it, actually. For a Heavenly embazzy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It was cramped. Crowded. Stuffy. Like Hell. Just…” They pause, lowering their hand as they watch two ducks battle it out over one of the peas. “–warmer, I suppoze.”

Anthony considers it. There’s only one logical question he can ask next, “What was Heaven like, then?”

“Empty.” Beelzebub tosses the last pea into the lake and shove their hands into their pockets. “White. Just corridorz, going on for milezz. It wasn’t always like this, but after the revolt… Everything changed.”

“I don’t know why you expect me to believe this,” Anthony says with a sigh.

“I don’t know what you expect me to zay to convince you. It’z the truth,” Beelzebub counters. They turn to look at him and Anthony refuses to face them. “The two of you… you did zzzzomething. You ended a universe and started a new one. I don’t know why, or how, I don’t know why you two, but then again, it was alwayzzz about you two, wasn’t it. You stopped the Apocalypse. You made it pozzible for me and Gabriel to ezcape. You always bent the rulez, one way or another, you and Aziraphale.”

“Gabriel,” he repeats. “Your… whatever he is that you ran away with.” It was hard to keep all the facts of the story straight.

“My everything,” Beelzebub says easily. They say it with such plain earnestness that Anthony has to look over at them.

“You’re trying to protect him,” he realizes. “You’re worried this is temporary.”

“I’m worried that thiz izzzz another trick. It’s what you would have been worried about, Crowley, if you weren’t–” They wave an arm towards him. “Thiz.”

“It’s Anthony,” he huffs. “What, you think now that I’m not a demon, I’ve lost my edge?” It’s a funny thought exercise, anyway. The demon thing. “I’m not stupid, Beelzebub. Whatever you wanna believe– I get the meaning. God plays games, blah blah blah. It’s been done before. If Heaven and Hell are gone– that doesn’t mean there’s no other plan. Something coming, another apocalypse. I mean, why would He allow it to happen otherwise?”

“She,” Beelzebub cuts in. “Or They. Never He.”

“Huh.” Anthony snorts, pausing with his hand halfway up. “God is a woman. Another win for feminism.”

“God is God. Angelz are angelzzz, demonz are demonzzzz. We’re not meant to succumb to human ideaz of gender, or love or… anything, really.”

“Lovely,” he mutters. The pea lands in the water. There is something about the idea that he likes, but he’s not ready to unpack all that yet. “Is that why you never call him your boyfriend? Partner?”

“I don’t know what any of that meanzz,” Beelzebub says easily. “I know he iz my Hell, my everything.”

Anthony softens at those words, despite everything else about the conversation. Here is where he can understand Beelzebub. Their magical, fictional story– the details don’t matter when it’s painfully clear that the whole point is that they’re scared for the most important person in their life.

“Look,” he says gently. “I can’t help you. I wish I could. That I could give you the answers you’re looking for, but…” He shakes his head. “Me, and Asa, there’s nothing special about us. We’re just two– men shaped humans who like each other. That’s all. We can’t reshape the universe. Trust me, I thought about it.”

He tosses the rest of the peas into the lake. He turns to walk away.

“Anthony,” Beelzebub calls after him.

It’s the first time they’ve used his given name. Despite himself, he stops. “Yeah?”

“Are you… happy?”

He thinks about the question for a moment, but not all too long, all things considered. He gives a nod. “Yeah. You know what? I think I am.”

Asa rubs at his forehead. He’s about to develop a headache, he thinks. A migraine, even, perhaps.

“It’s a… nice story,” he says slowly, giving Jim a thin smile. Anything to placate him. “Really, it’s lovely, but you don’t mean to tell me–”

“It’s not a story,” Jim insists.

Migraine. Definitely a migraine. They’ve been sitting at this table for far too long and Asa’s stomach turns. He might need another plate of those lovely eggs to get through the rest of this conversation.

“Angels and demons aren’t real,” Asa says softly. “Certainly not in the sense you mean, Jim. And I’m not– I’m not one of them. Anthony is not a demon, he’s actually quite lovely.”

He doesn’t dare ask Jim how he knows Anthony.

“Why would you choose to be human?” Jim asks suddenly. The question doesn’t seem to be directed at Asa, but he feels compelled to answer anyway.

“What else would I be?” An angel, if Jim is to be believed. Or a demon. “I’m not… I’m just me, Jim. I’m a retired professor, a bookseller, I donate to charity and I’m gluttonous and lazy and prideful. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I’d be a very good angel,” he admits.

“Would you want to be?”

That actually gives Asa pause. “Oh, I don’t know,” he sighs. “What are the responsibilities?”

Jim doesn’t have to consider the question long. “You have to carry out The Great Plan. Influence the humans to do God’s bidding, until the inevitable end. Just as She planned.”

Asa can’t help, but give him a sympathetic smile. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”

“Fun?” Jim frowns. “It’s a job.”

“Well, I enjoy my job at the bookshop. I don’t think I’d like this one very much.”

Jim looks away, then nods slowly. “No. You didn’t like it,” he admits. “I came to dislike it, too. I didn’t want to end things when there was someone to exist for.”

Asa lets out a breath. Whatever is going on with Jim, or Gabriel, it appears to be a lot. For as intimidating as the man is, he can’t help but feel a little bit bad for him. “Then I suppose there is your answer, Jim,” he says gently. “I wouldn’t want to be an angel. I think it’s much more fun to be a human. And you can still do good, as a human.”

“I always thought it was because of him. Crowley. The demon.” Asa winces, hearing Anthony referred to this way again, but he doesn’t say anything. He tries not to think of the yellow eyes. “That you wanted to be on Earth because it meant you could be with him,” Jim continues.

“Well… I’m sure it could’ve been one of the reasons,” Asa replies, allowing himself to entertain this silly notion just once. “But it need not be the only one, does it?”

Jim looks as though he is actually considering his words, this time. Or maybe he has nothing else left to try and convince him – the silence stretches on long enough that Asa reaches for his jacket. Just as he’s about to stand up, Jim speaks.

“Thank you, Aziraphale.”

The name makes him inhale sharply, but he doesn’t try to correct him. “...what for?”

“For protecting me,” Jim explains. “I’m not sure that I ever thanked you for that. We never quite saw eye to eye and yet you still did it.”

“When you… ran away?”

Jim nods.

“Well…” Asa isn’t sure how to respond. How to take being thanked for something he has certainly not done. Couldn’t have done. “I’m glad things have turned out well for you, in the end,” he settles on saying.

Jim lets him leave without saying another word. When Asa is out on the street, he can see through the window that he’s still sitting at their table, observing the salt shakers. He cannot begin to guess what must be going through his head.

Anthony lingers in front of the bookshop.

It’s late – nearly closing hours. Peering through the window, he can see Asa inside, but no Derek. No anyone else. Asa has his sleeves rolled up as he moves stacks of books from one corner of the store to the other. Like this, with the window and the shelves in the way, he can’t see Anthony outside, standing, wondering. Much like the first time Anthony had seen him.

His mind is a whirlwind. He pushes the door open before he can second guess himself.

“I’m sorry, we’re about to be– Anthony.” Asa breathes out his name, relief tangible in his tone. “Hello. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Hi.” Anthony smiles – he can’t not, even after the strange week he’s had. “I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by.” It’s not exactly true, but not quite a lie either, he decides. He peers over Asa’s shoulder to try and look further into the store. “Working alone?”

“Ah, yes. It’s been a slow day so I told Derek I could handle closing on my own.”

Anthony hums. He walks past Asa, looks over the shelves, the spines of books on books on books. “Do you ever feel like this place is too small?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The bookshop. It’s small. Feels like it should be… I don’t know, bigger.”

Giant columns, Beelzebub had said. An impossible number of pathways between bookshelves, antiques, a spiral staircase. An upstairs. Fancy carpets, yellow walls in the backroom. Bedrooms. A kitchenette. A third hand account. This place is nothing like it, cramped, yes, but small, turquoise on the outside. Bright, much more modern than what Beelzebub seemed to have in mind.

When Anthony turns around, Asa is already looking at him, a strange expression on his face. “You know, I never thought about it until recently. Funny you should say that.” A pause. “I… I’ve always liked it this way, though. It feels… manageable. Intimate. Does that make sense?”

Anthony considers it. “Yeah. I think I do.” He runs a hand over the nearest shelf – Religions of the World, the plaque states. “Like you can wrap your head around the whole of it.”

“Yes, like that,” Asa says, visibly pleased. “Although I suppose you must have a lot of experience with it, dear. Wrapping your head around the unknowable.” Anthony raises an eyebrow in question. “Oh, what with the size of the universe and all.”

Anthony barks a laugh. “Well, I try. But trust me, it doesn’t cease to blow my mind, whenever I start thinking about it too long.”

“Fair enough,” Asa replies. He shelves a couple more books, back briefly turned on Anthony. “Let me just finish up here, and then we could… get dinner? If you’d like?”

Anthony hums his assent and leans against the front desk. He spends a while just watching Asa meticulously move books around, before he speaks, tries out a word as of yet quite unfamiliar to him, “Angel?”

Asa turns around instantly, as though he had called his name. “Yes, dear?” Then, it clicks, “Oh. Did you just–”

Anthony, just as surprised by the speed of Asa’s reaction, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Er. Sorry, I just thought…”

“No, it’s nice! I like it. I do. I just…” He doesn’t finish the thought. He fidgets with his sleeve.

Anthony runs his tongue over his upper lip and smiles. “I’ve had the strangest week,” he finally admits with a shake of his head.

“Oh good Lord,” Asa says on an exhale, all the air escaping him at once as he turns towards Anthony. Somehow exasperated and smiling all at once. “So have I! I’ve been meaning to tell you. I just wasn’t sure… oh, dear.”

“Yeah?” Anthony’s smile widens. He crosses his arms. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“You said it first!” Asa objects, but when Anthony gestures for him to go on, he doesn’t try to disagree again. He drags a stool from a corner and sits down heavily. “So, there was this man, Gabriel…”

“Do you think they’ll show?”

Just this once, Asa and Anthony sit on the same side of the table, squished into a sofa seat. Their thighs are touching and Anthony keeps nudging his foot against Asa’s, either mindlessly fidgeting or on purpose, Asa isn’t sure. He thinks perhaps they should sit like this more often, side to side. A nice chance for Anthony to put his arm around his shoulders, too, if he so chose to.

“Don’t see why not,” Anthony says. He checks the time on his phone. “I told them I wanted to meet their mysterious friend. I didn’t mention our… conversation. They have no reason not to show.”

Asa hums. Feeling a bit restless, and with nothing to do with his hands, he reaches for the chopsticks. Takes one roll and places it in his mouth.

“Oh, this is terribly impolite of me,” he mutters once he swallows. He puts the chopsticks down.

Anthony rolls his eyes, reaches for the same chopsticks and nudges them back into his hand. “Just eat, angel. I don’t think either of them is gonna care.”

Asa doesn’t need to be told twice. He flashes Anthony a grateful smile and digs in.

He’s about halfway through their tray when Beelzebub and Gabriel show up. They both stop in their tracks the moment they spot them.

“You– what izzz he doing here?” Beelzebub points an accusatory finger towards him. Asa, mouth still full of sushi, gives them a cheery wave.

“We are here for an intervention,” Anthony responds, taking care to enunciate every single t in intervention. Asa dabs at his mouth with a napkin to cover his smile – gosh, he really is quite fond of Anthony. “Quit goggling and sit down.”

Beelzebub and Gabriel exchange glances, but then they do sit down, just in time for Asa to put down his napkin. He reaches a hand out towards Beelzebub. “It’s lovely to meet you. Beelzebub, yes?”

They stare at his hand blankly and don’t take it. Instead, they glare at both of them. “What izzzz thizzz about, Crowley?”

“Anthony,” Anthony huffs pointedly, slumping into the seat. “I’m sure you can take a guess.”

“Well…” Gabriel says slowly, looking between Beelzebub and Anthony. “You’d like to discuss what we’ve told you? The real universe?”

Anthony rolls his eyes, his entire head following the movement. It really is quite dramatic. “This is the real universe. Look,” Anthony pinches the bridge of his nose. “Whatever you wanna believe in– this Heaven and Hell nonsense, any of it– our life is our life. You can’t just mess with us and expect us to like it.”

“We’re telling you the truth–”

“Yes, dear, we understand,” Asa says, as nicely as he can manage. “We understand you believe it to be true. But…” He looks over at Anthony. His gaze softens. “I believe we quite like our life as it is right now. Regardless of what has or hasn’t happened before.”

“You don’t even know– you don’t understand what you lozzzt–”

“When we first met, you told me you were on the run,” Anthony cuts them off. He rests his elbows on the table and looks directly at Beelzebub. “You told me that me, and Asa, were traitors. Do tell me, what did we lose, then?”

Beelzebub and Gabriel consider this. They look at each other.

“Your… memoriezzz. Your experiencezz…” Beelzebub says slowly, but there’s less conviction in it now

Asa pours himself and Anthony some sake. He smiles. “We’re making new ones as we speak. I don’t think it’s so bad, really.”

“I’m probably gonna repeat myself here, but…” Anthony shrugs. “Why the hell won’t you make use of this? Clean break. You can go wherever you like, do whatever you like. No Heaven, no Hell. Just the two of you.”

Just the two of you. Asa reaches under the table to touch Anthony’s knee, momentarily overwhelmed by fondness for this ridiculous man he has only known for such a short time. Anthony’s lips twitch, a ghost of a smile.

“Where would we go?” Gabriel asks.

“I hear Canada is lovely this time of year,” Asa chimes in, squeezing Anthony’s knee. Anthony’s hand finds his. “Or Australia.”

“Have you ever…” Beelzebub turns towards Gabriel. “...seen much of Earth?”

“No… not really,” Gabriel admits. “I’ve been down here a few times, but there was never any time…”

“Zzame here. Hell couldn’t run itzzelf.”

They continue to stare at one another for another minute, two, an amount of time that begins to border on uncomfortably awkward as Asa and Anthony wait for them to make up their minds. But then, as if in a blink of an eye, they’re gone.

Anthony gapes. Asa rubs at his eyes with his free hand. Anthony blinks a few more times, looks under the table.

They meet each other’s gaze.

“Well, that was… something.”

Asa doesn’t voice his immediate thoughts. Have they just disappeared? Neither does Anthony. “Certainly was,” Asa says instead. “Do you think they’ll be back?”

“God, I hope not,” Anthony huffs, slumping into the seat. His grip on Asa’s hand loosens, but it’s still there, warm and comforting as ever. “I’m not sure how much more of them I could take.”

“Oh, they weren’t so bad…”

“Angel.” Anthony frowns. “He showed up at your doorstep and you thought he was going to murder you. Tell me again they aren’t so bad.”

Asa opens his mouth. Closes it. He tilts his head side to side, reconsidering. “...yes. Fair point, dear.”

“Anyway.” Anthony moves on quickly, clearly eager to close this chapter of their week. “Did you finish your sushi? I’m thinking this calls for a celebration. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

1 year later

“There you are, dear.”

Asa finds him sitting on the steps outside, looking up at the night sky. At the sound of his voice, Anthony turns and grins. He takes off his suit jacket, tosses it onto the ground next to him, gestures for Asa to join him.

“I do hope you aren’t smoking.”

“On our wedding day? Nah.” He laughs. The moment Asa lowers himself onto the step, Anthony puts an arm around him, a familiar gesture, and pulls him in closer. “Besides, I’m quitting, aren’t I?”

“Well… so you say. I keep waiting to find a stash hidden away somewhere.”

Anthony snorts. “Have a little more faith in me, angel.” He squeezes his arm. Asa leans in to rest his head on his shoulder. “Just needed a breather.”

“It is a bit stuffy in there, isn’t it? You should’ve told me you were stepping outside.”

“Oh, you were teaching Maggie the gavotte, I wasn’t gonna drag you away from your fun.”

“You are my husband, though,” Asa counters, then realizes what he just said. “Oh. You’re my husband.”

Anthony laughs, a bright cheerful thing, and then there are lips on Asa’s and he hums happily into the kiss. Husbands, he thinks. He never thought it would happen. He never thought Anthony would happen.

Once they break the kiss, Asa settles into Anthony’s side once more. They look up at the night sky in silence, not feeling any particular need to fill it.

“Angel?” Anthony speaks eventually and Asa hums in acknowledgement. “Do you remember, back when we first met, those two weirdos?”

Asa thinks about it for a moment. What he remembers best are their dinner dates and the first time Anthony took him stargazing and staying at each other’s places and finding Anthony dozing off at his desk, grading papers and, oh, there was that lovely sushi restaurant they frequented, too, and– ah. Right.

“Gabriel and… Beelzebub, was it?”

Anthony nods. “Do you… ever wonder if they were right?”

The question surprises him. “About us, that is?”

“Yeah.”

Asa doesn’t respond immediately. It’s been months since then and they haven’t talked about all of… that since it happened, more than content to move on with their life and not dwell on the strange encounters.

Pressing himself closer to Anthony’s side, he finally says, voice soft, “I can’t say I’ve given it much thought since then. Have you?”

Anthony runs a hand down his arm, another silent space. “No,” he says. “Me neither. Too busy living my life with you, I suppose.”

Asa smiles fondly. He turns and presses a small kiss to Anthony’s shoulder. “It’s a nice thought, though, isn’t it?” he says. “That we’d meet in every universe. Terribly romantic.”

Anthony nods. He reaches for Asa’s hand and absentmindedly brings it up to his face. He kisses his fingertips, one after another, index finger, middle finger, ring finger. “I would, you know,” he says. “Choose you. No matter the universe.”

In this universe, Asa gives his human husband a smile brighter than the stars.