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Peter blinked at Michael when she appeared at his desk.
“I need file 1457B,” she said primly, her hands folded in front of her.
Peter didn’t think he’d ever met Michael before. Obviously he had seen her at the monthly staff meetings but she’d never spoken to him directly. He was just a grunt and she was an archangel.
As the shock wore off, his brain caught up to her request and his heart dropped. 1457B was–
“You want Aziraphale’s file?” he asked, staring up at the archangel with wide eyes.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
He gulped and summoned the file. Michael whipped it from his hands and flipped it open, shaking her head and clicking her tongue when her eyes fell on the photos and reports inside. “Is this all of it?”
“No, uh, ma’am. That’s just the last decade or so. Do you want the rest? It’s six thousand years so it’s quite large–“
“No, this is fine. Thank you…” her eyes flicked down to his nameplate, “Peter. Good work.”
Peter stared after her mournfully as she walked away with the file containing the greatest love story ever told.
**
It had all started four thousand years ago when Peter died, was called to heaven and then given his halo. He wasn’t powerful or particularly angelic. If Heaven had a professional hierarchy then he was a desk jockey. It suited him fine that sort of 9 to 5. Plenty of time to enjoy the celestial pleasures.
But three thousand years ago, an assignment came across Peter’s desk.
Manage the file of Earth Agent Principality Aziraphale, the sticky note said where it was plastered on top of the manila folder.
Peter had looked at it with a critical eye. He hadn’t been assigned any surveillance of Earth yet, mostly working on files regarding human deeds of beneficence, so this would be a change of pace. There were only a handful of angels on Earth at any given time and if the water cooler gossip was right, Aziraphale had been stationed there the longest.
It was easy enough at first, filing photos and audio and marking down Aziraphale’s miracles. The angel used far too many–not that Peter was the judge of such a thing, but the principality had used a miracle to refill a wine bottle. But despite Peter’s vague disapproval, he found himself liking the angel. He was kind to a fault but strong. He held to his morals and guided humans into happy, good lives.
He liked when new data on Aziraphale came across his desk for filing. Sometimes, he checked in on Aziraphale especially, not because he needed extra photos or evidence, but because he wanted to make sure Aziraphale was healthy and happy.
Peter’s obsession with Aziraphale didn’t start until after the crucifixion. He just thought to check up on the Earth angel briefly but that was when he first saw Him. Aziraphale and a lanky man in glasses were drunk in a Roman restaurant slurping oysters and Aziraphale looked…joyous. Peter had never seen him that full of joy. There was nothing in the angelic code against fraternizing with humans but Peter’s interest was piqued.
He cross-referenced the face of the lanky man against Earth records but the only thing that came up was a slim file on the Enemy, the Earth Agent Crowley. Peter had been shocked. He worked for the other side! And Aziraphale was spending time with him? Enjoying his company?
At first, Peter hadn’t known what to do. But he trusted Aziraphale, even though he didn’t know him. Perhaps he didn’t fully understand the circumstances. Time would tell.
What time ended up telling was a love story so intense that Peter practically drooled over every new incoming piece of intel.
Oh! Now they were fighting in the park. No, now flirting in a church. Oh Heavens, Aziraphale rejected Crowley in his car and then the demon drove for several hours listening to sad music. Why? Peter put his head in his hands at his desk. You’re so in love, he whispered to the photos and audio recordings on his desk.
Then the apocalypse happened, and Peter was drafted along with everyone else and he heard murmurs of Aziraphale being punished but then the intel started coming in again so he clearly was still alive and even though Peter was no longer assigned to him per se, he found himself still checking in, greedily following up on the status of the romance between Aziraphale and Crowley.
Or almost romance.
Peter was certain that now that the end of the world was averted that they would finally get their act together.
But they didn’t.
He watched as Aziraphale and Crowley moved in together in the little bookshop Aziraphale was so fond of.
Still nothing.
He saw them attend a wedding in Tadfield. A pretty brunette and an awkward man getting married. Strange couple.
Still nothing.
If he were allowed on Earth, Peter would have marched up to them and smacked their heads together. Couldn’t Aziraphale see the way Crowley stared after him? Couldn’t Crowley see the way Aziraphale smiled at him?
Idiots. A pair of giant idiots.
It became a true obsession. Whenever Peter wasn’t busy with other files, he would check file 1457B for any updates.
In the year 2030, a photo came across Peter’s desk that left him speechless. They were holding hands! On the bench! In St. James!
He whooped loudly and Tonya from two desks over shushed him. He covered his mouth but couldn’t stop smiling.
It had finally happened!
Then he was struck by a wave of disappointment. How had it happened? He’d missed it. Had Crowley finally admitted his feelings? Or was it Aziraphale?
He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him as he flipped open the file and dug through the surveillance from the last several Earth months. There it was! In June. Crowley’s hands cupping Aziraphale’s face.
Peter’s heart started to race and he slammed the file shut. Should he look? He felt like he was intruding on something private. Curiosity eventually won out and he slipped the file back open and activated the audio associated with the photo, playing it so that only he could hear it.
“Do you mean it?”
Oh, that was Crowley.
“Of course I mean it. I’m not in the habit of lying, you know.”
Peter heard Crowley laugh quietly. “Whatever you say, angel.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“I think you do. I think you love it.”
Then there was a smacking sound that Peter was fairly certain was kissing.
He blushed. That wasn’t what Peter was looking for. He rewound the audio.
“Are we ever going to talk about it?”
Aziraphale.
“About what?”
“What you said. During the apocalypse.”
“I’ve been alive for several millennia and said a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Running away together,” Aziraphale said, sounding exasperated.
Peter heard a shuffling in the silence that rung out after Aziraphale’s words. Oh my god, it was happening.
“Maybe. Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
Peter wanted to scream. Why couldn’t the damned–oh dear–pair of them be honest with each other?
Silence in the audio. A very long silence.
“Fine!” That was Crowley. Practically yelling. “I meant it. I still mean it. You know I’d go with you anywhere. Just us.”
“They haven’t checked up on us.”
“What?”
“Heaven. Hell. They’ve left us alone. It’s been ten years. I think…I guess what I mean is that we can now. Go off together.”
A sharp inhale.
“Or maybe we can stay here. Just us, as you said. But still…together,” Aziraphale trailed off and Peter could hear the anxiety tightening his voice.
“Angel…stop me if I go too far. I can’t–I don’t want you to run away again.”
“I finally have you, my dear. I’m not going to let you go.”
A single tear dripped from Peter’s nose onto his desk.
He shut off the audio as it had gotten decidedly too passionate to be entirely comfortable to listen to.
He closed the file and put it away, thinking he’d check back in another hundred years, just to see how they were doing.