Chapter Text
Muriel was worried. Aziraphale hadn’t stopped crying for hours now. Not even Mr. Crowley had been that distraught upon reading this book. They really started to wonder what it was all about. What in God’s name could a human write that would make not only an angel but also a demon cry? Maybe it would be better to leave that book alone. Crying was not for them, Muriel decided. The way Aziraphale’s whole body seemed to vibrate, the way drawing breath seemed unnecessarily hard, even though, technically, an angel didn’t need air at all. It looked violent even, and Muriel did not understand, why Aziraphale had adopted this human behaviour along with the more favourable ones, like sleeping and eating. Also, Muriel was at a loss about what to do, so they opted for the only human thing (besides reading books), they had learned in their short time on earth. They prepared a cup of tea.
“Mr. Fell, I made you a cupperty. I had hoped it would make you stop crying over that book. It’s what helped Mr. Crowley, so I figured it would have the same effect on you, maybe.” Muriel tried to keep a cheerful tone in their voice, but Aziraphale looking up at them with tears still spilling out of his eyes and lips pressed together in a tight line, didn’t exactly make that easy.
“Oh Muriel, I don’t think tea is going to fix this. I messed up, I messed it all up”, Aziraphale mumbled between soft sobs. But to Muriel’s relief, he took the cup anyway, even though he didn’t drink it. To them, Aziraphale was making no sense at all. How could he have messed up? He was an angel, surely it wasn’t possible for him to do anything wrong.
“This isn’t about the book, is it? I’m not very good, emotion-wise, it’s all terribly new to me, but it is something else, yes?”, Muriel asked carefully. They really had no idea, if they were on the right path here or all the way off, but it was worth a try, even to just get Aziraphale to chuckle about their misjudgment. But he didn’t. He just stared at the cup in his still shaking hands.
“Is it about Mr. Crowley leaving?” It was a bold question, even Muriel realized that, but they also felt good about themselves getting better at reading the situation. “Will he come back?”
“No. No, I don’t think he will”, Aziraphale’s answer was barely more than a whisper.
“Do you want him to?”, Muriel liked Crowley, if you could call it that, with him being their nemesis by definition and all. But despite him being a demon, somehow he had never treated them badly and Muriel wasn’t going to dislike somebody that had never meant them any harm. “If you want him to, maybe you should tell him.”
It was such a plain statement, such a seemingly easy task, that Aziraphale almost laughed. It sounded humiliatingly simple, the way Muriel put it. They were right though, weren’t they? Maybe he should just tell Crowley, maybe he should talk to him, really talk, be earnest, because deep down Aziraphale had always known, what had come crashing to the surface now. He wanted to be with Crowley. Every inch of his celestial soul, every fiber of his corporate form was drawn to him, like he was the needle of a compass and Crowley was the north. Aziraphale had so desperately wanted to be part of something, belong to the likes of his, feel at home with the divine providence that had deemed Heaven his rightful place to be, but it would never feel right again. Not when his heart, that had become so painfully human, yearned for the moment when the rest of him would finally accept, that the only home he would ever know, was at the side of a demon.
“You’re right, Muriel”, Aziraphale said, his voice losing its tremor. “I will just tell him.” Muriel beamed at him, as he placed the still steaming mug on the coffee table and got up to walk to the door of his bookshop. As unrefined as his plan was, right now Aziraphale was only faced with one immediate problem- he didn’t know where Crowley was. But that wouldn’t hold him back, nothing would. Saraqael had mentioned the Royal Observatory in Edinburgh, so that’s where Aziraphale would go first, because of course Crowley would choose an observatory as his accommodation. A place that was quite literally looking up, studying the sky and maybe, with the right approach get a little glimpse of Heaven too. Perhaps the bookshop hadn’t been the only thing Crowley had been checking in on.
With warmth in his heart, Aziraphale took the next train to Edinburgh. He felt exhilerated, but tried very hard not to be too optimistic, remembering all too well what had happened the last time he’d let excitement take over. This time though, he knew that Crowley wouldn’t be thrilled to see him, he knew he would have to fight, to lay bare his thoughts and feelings in order to get the chance of absolution. It frightened him, both the act of confessing and the possibility of being denied this very forgiveness, but he wouldn’t run, not this time. So Aziraphale waited patiently for the train to reach its destination and him reaching his.
Having finally arrived in Edinburgh at dusk, the angel followed the signs into the historic part of the city. Memories of him walking these very paths with a certain demon by his side popped up in his mind. They had been to Edinburgh a few times, enjoying the quiet, cosy atmosphere contrary to London’s bustling streets. In 1896, after Crowley had finally decided to wake up after sleeping for almost a century, they had taken the same route through the city center, past the National University of Edinburgh, through the Meadows, up to Black Hill to take part in the opening ceremony of the new Royal Observatory. Aziraphale’s wish to attend was rooted in his agenda to take a look at the impressive library of James Lindsay, 26th Earl of Crawford, which featured some highly valuable originals by some of the most notable astronomers, like Galileo Galilei, Nikolaus Kopernikus and Isaac Newton. The demon, however, had never missed a chance to look at the cosmos the human way. He marveled at their inventions, excited to watch them discover the night sky and dive into his own creation. It was one of Aziraphale’s fondest memories. He realized he would do anything to see Crowley as happy again. He would pluck the stars from the sky and hand them to him if he could.
Aziraphale had been walking for almost an hour now, the buildings of the city giving way to soft, grassy countryside. Even though the opening ceremony had been decades ago, he still remembered every step he’d taken and he figured he had to be close to the observatory now. The road wound up a small hill and suddenly he saw the Bentley parking a few meters in front of him. The angel’s heart leapt and he fought the urge to turn on his heel and hide in the bushes.
This was real, he couldn’t chicken out. He had come here to get his friend-who-was-so-much-more-than-a-friend back, to apologise, to damn Heaven and all his obligations, to finally choose Crowley above everything else. And then he was before him, nothing more than a dark figure in the night, glowing yellow eyes squinted, sceptical.
“Aziraphale, what the fuck are you doing here?”