Chapter Text
It was a long week, Crowley thought to himself as he leaned as far back as the back of the chair would allow him to go without falling in an undignified manner. The day was of course considered the longest in his life (apart from the very first day in Eden with Angel) what with the world on route to ending, then the Antichrist deciding, actually, he doesn't want the world to end and so can it please stop ending? And also that's not my dad, what do you mean? My dad doesn't have six horns and red leathery wings, he has brown hair with a few gray hairs and a perfectly respectable back thank you very much. All this along with Heaven and Hell respectively striking them off their register and collectively deciding to ignore them until the next apocalypse.
He could feel himself start to slip on the chair and so he abruptly sat up straight and slapped his hands on the table scaring Aziraphale who was sat opposite him slowly eating his devils food cake and he looked up at Crowley with wide eyes
"Yes dear, what is it?"
"Do you ever just feel... tired?"
"Well I definitely know you do dear, you slept an entire century, remember?" Crowley did remember - fondly - that the only time he got up in 100 years was to go to the Lavatory and that was honestly the best piss he took in all his earth bound life.
"Not tired like you want to sleep, tired like... you want a rest from the rest of life." he was definitely hesitant putting this out there, but he's been thinking about this quite a lot since he delivered the antichrist to the babbling order of St Beryl's.
"You mean like a holiday?" Aziraphale asked curiously putting down his fork and resting it on his plate (no need to dirty the table)
"No, I mean like a real retirement, Angel" he firmly stated.
"Oh"
Crowley risked looking up into Aziraphale's eyes and saw confusion and consideration. His eyes were staring thoughtfully at his fork as he pondered the idea in his head.
"So you're going to 'retire' somewhere in the country to get some peace and quiet?"
"With you, yes." (obviously)
"With me? I thought you wanted some quiet away from it all?"
"After the couple days we've had, angel I don't want to leave you ever again. Why do you think I didn't go to Alpha Centauri when you said you wouldn't go with me. You were the deciding factor." (again, obviously)
Aziraphale had the audacity to look shocked, his mouth hanging open slightly with his eyes widened. (he looked like shocked Pikachu Crowley thought absent-mindedly)
"Me?"
"Obviously" he nearly cried "I thought you knew all this, which is why I never said anything."
Aziraphale's eyes dart quickly to Crowley's sunglasses with a new desperation "What did you think I knew?"
"That I was in love with you?" delivered bluntly enough that it felt like a physical blow to the angel "I thought we just weren't putting labels on it since the 60's happened?"
Aziraphale wheezed out something along the spluttering lines of "the sixties??"
Crowley sighed deeply, feeling annoyance and frustration and tiredness sink into his very soul and he took his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose and squeeze his eyes shut "I love you, angel and I want us to retire together to a cottage in a town where nothing much happens except when it's tourist season. I even have a cottage ready to buy in South Downs and it has a decent amount of land it's on so I can garden and bully my plants and it has several ornate bookshelves built into the walls so you can store your precious tomes. Yes I want peace and quiet angel, but I want it with you. I want us to be able to be seen out in public and not have to keep on the lookout for agents of Heaven and Hell stalking us with an excuse for why we're so close together without a weapon in sight except for a butter knife on the tips of our tongues. I just want the true experience of living, angel. We haven't tried very hard at the 'humanity' part of the job except for the eating and the drinking. I want us, Angel."
After his long monologue Crowley chanced a glance up at Aziraphale and was relieved to find a budding smile on his face rather than the previous look of grief.