Chapter Text
Following the events of the Armagedunked, Crowley and Aziraphale's life fell into a comfortable routine. They spent more time together knowing that the only one to really bother watching was the Almighty but there's really no way to tell what She does so there's no use questioning it. [1] It was peaceful.
However, things did start to get a bit boring with no real tasks to do. Aziraphale and Crowley invested their time and effort into living a domestic life with some minor miracles/temptations peppered in from time to time. It was sweet. They were already pretty "native" but to go to the extent of full domesticism was a new plunge in their lives.
Crowley took up baking, it was a different type of catharsis he felt in comparison to his gardening. There was no shouting at the cakes and pastries to cook better. Well he could (and certainly did) but also learnt that taking out emotions during the prep stages, aggressively kneading dough or using a processor to watch items get battered in a messy hurricane before combining, was very effective. The demon also found his angel’s brilliant smile very effective every time he was presented with a new home baked treat.
Aziraphale's hobbies were more centered around catching up with the current generation. He didn’t quite succeed on the tech front, still getting confused about the differences between “Atting” someone and “DMing” them, but he did try his best. He tried to set up a very quiet book club for younger people to get into classic literature. It started out predominantly for Adam and his friends, but they never did much reading per say. It was more of an interviewing session on Aziraphale. He didn’t mind much. It was admirable and nostalgic most of the time. Over the school terms, Aziraphale had gotten to assist the occasional university student with finding specific books- which, by january, turned into getting a small huddle of students crammed into his shop in the early evenings. It was quite sweet. They all seemed to pity the angel, and repay any assistance with offers to promote his shop and explain memes.[2]
Their new hobbies didn’t really interrupt their routine though. They still dined at The Ritz often enough, walked about St. James’ Park, and spent nights drinking fine wine together. Other little things changed though, their routines opened up to other niceties. Picnics with each other and, on occasion, the small circle of people who refused to forget them [3]; nights out to the theatre; Simple nights binging Old shows and cuddling; and lazy evenings spent stargazing. There was more they got up to, but that's strictly their business.
It was one such night of stargazing, 9 months after the apoca-wasn't that something awfully out of the ordinary occurred.
The couple had left London for the night in favour of actually seeing the stars while they drank alcohol and enjoyed their time together in a little field in the middle of nowhere. Aziraphale could unabashedly look at Crowley with admiration as his demon rattled off names of stars and constellations, often following each up with a story on its creation. It was a lovely change of pace, he thought, hearing Crowley so passionate.
The demon in question was reclined in the grass, with his head nestled in Aziraphale's lap. As Aziraphale followed Crowley's finger to gaze upon the stars, his hands carded through the thick dark locks that had grown out over time. Aziraphale adored the longer hair on Crowley. It framed his face so perfectly it was near illegal and the longer it got, the more prominent the red undertones became. Yes, it was quite spectacular and Aziraphale made conscious efforts to make sure Crowley knows how much he appreciates it.
Crowley, externally, never seemed phased from the gentle acknowledgements. He rarely regarded them beyond a soft hum or a playful "shut up" (two very diverse reactions meant to be taken the same way) as he thrived with the attention. However, internally, Crowley couldn't be happier. The love Crowley had for the angel was just shown differently. It was in small touches and deeds, or for the moment, sharing his passions. It was sitting with Aziraphale over lunch to watch the angel indulge or to help with the efforts of preserving the ancient books he hoarded. All these acts were the love language Crowley spoke in. Aziraphale knew this.
There was a moment of quiet as Crowley hummed [4] in content. He reached for his wine, took a sip [5], and muttered:
"We should still go off out there someday, Angel. I'd love to show you some of the nebula I had a part in creating. I think you'd like it too. S'peaceful"
Oh. Oh. Aziraphale, didn't realise he could be more in love with Crowley. The angel paused. Time felt as if it froze while heat rushed to his face and love coursed through his veins. It was probably an overreaction but it meant the world to him. For Crowley to consider taking to see the very nebulas he created? Well, Aziraphale wouldn't miss the opportunity for the world.
Well, he nearly did.
The quietness and stillness from the angel came as a surprise, and when it was socially acceptable to, Crowley began sputtering his way through an apology.
"Nngk, never mind angel, I don't know what came over me there-" he started saying as he tried pushing himself into a sitting position.
Aziraphale clocked onto the movement and went to grab Crowley's face. Gently, of course. He silently guided Crowley to a comfortable position, Crowley's long legs sprawled out beside (and slightly over) Aziraphale's. It required more effort and twisting of the demon but landed them closer than before so it was accomplished with minimal grumbling.
"No, no, my dear, don't um. Don't, please?" He flustered before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Crowley's cheek. "I'd love to go off together. Anytime." He reassured. Aziraphale had been waiting to accept such an offer since all the hassle with The Apocalypse That Never Was.
Now it was Crowley's turn to be stunned. He leaned closer, their noses brushing together slightly before catching Aziraphale's lips with his own for a soft, sweet kiss. Hearing that from his angel was worth the 6 millennia wait. Crowley's heart hammered in his chest wildly, nearly causing fear of a very human heart attack, all while indulging in the intimacy the couple were sharing.
It didn't last long as he felt something shift in the air, an appearance of something, and overall quite a minor disturbance. Pity. He was enjoying the moment.
"Someone's here" the demon whispered, pulling away and looking about the immediate area somewhat lazily. He was now nearly in Aziraphale's lap, limbs wrapped around the angel at any point of contact he could make and was rather comfortable. Whoever turned up was rather rude in his books, and that was coming from a demon.
It was weird, not because they were in an overgrown field in the middle of nowhere, but because they were in an overgrown field in the middle of nowhere, Just past midnight . It wasn't necessarily the most romantic of locations, but decidedly perfect for the two ethereal beings. The grass was perhaps a tad too long, the pylons humming with knowledge was perhaps annoying to some, and it wasn't difficult to sense the warrens of rabbits that clearly roamed free here. The grass gave them shelter, it meant for a quieter time; the pylons grounding them, reminding them of everything they helped save. The knowledge, connections, and most importantly, the people. The rabbits were just a nice touch. Both the beings had a soft spot for the furry little buggers.
The appearance was sudden. No headlights piercing the night, or rumbling motor to be heard. Or even the rustling of grass if someone dared to just walk up to them. It wasn't a strain for the beings to hear, but the appearance was accompanied by no more than a delicate pop. [6]
Aziraphale had felt it too. A disturbance, one that you’d definitely describe as weird. The two of them were now sat upright, Aziraphale ushering a grumbling Crowley out of his lap so their eyes could scan the area much more effectively. It was Aziraphale who then noticed a shuffle in the grass a mere 50 feet away.
"Hello?" Aziraphale called out, only to get a questioning glance from Crowley.
There was movement again, a soft curse before, finally, a figure stood up- only to fall and trip over a rabbit mound and curse once more, a lot more loudly. Aziraphale quietly asked the almighty to forgive this soul. Especially because he seemed no older than a teenager, even from the distance.
Not that the distance mattered- they could see the boy quite clearly.
He was small in stature, clad in what could only be described as a school uniform [7]. Blood trickled down his face and that was only the start of the worse for wear look he was sporting. Dark Hair stuck up in all different directions, a stare that was caught between crazed and determined, and a limp that he tried to disguise as he approached the couple.
There are very few things that the couple would move for and an injured, clearly infuriated young man was not one of them. The two sat on their blanket and watched him approach. The thought crossed Aziraphale's mind to perhaps help the chap, but Crowley's hand lingered near his own as a silent plea to wait.
"Where am I and can I hide somewhere? There's not much time to explain, the moon will explode in about 3 minutes and decimate all life on Earth." The kid called out, stopping about 10 feet away with them with a strong, certain stance.
There was an awful lot to unpack there and the only solution that crossed Crowley's mind was to throw the whole suitcase out.
"What are you on about? The worlds not ending." Crowley straight up denied. Aziraphale glared at Crowley before he got to his feet, lightly dusted off his trousers and cautiously approached the boy.
"Are you quite alright young man? You're in England, just a few miles north of London, and as you can see, we are in a field. Probably not the best of places to appear given your state mind you..." Aziraphale offered softly.
The kid stumbled back from the angel, almost looking disgusted with the mere presence of him.
"What are you, idiots. I said I need to hide. Worlds ending and I've gotta-" but before any more words could be said, the teen started coughing, sputtering up blood every now and again.
Aziraphale fussed over to the boy and tried to steady him. It was in the midst of trying to steady the teen that Aziraphale noticed something awfully important that made his demeanor change ever so slightly.
"My boy I really think you'd be best off not straining yourself- and we… have somewhere you could... hide for the time being I suppose." Aziraphale cast a glance over to Crowley. A pleading glance. The Pleading glance. Crowley stared back as he absentmindedly miracled his sunglasses out of a pocket dimension.
He knew what Aziraphale was getting at and he didn't really like it. But he couldn't resist those eyes and Aziraphale knew it.
"The Bentley's over in that direction if you can make it." He grumbled, rising to his feet and stretching his back out so his joints all popped with satisfaction. Crowley point off into the distance and snapped his fingers to make the headlights flash once. It wasn't hidden per say, but if you weren't looking for a vintage Bentley in a field you certainly wouldn't find it.
The young man stopped coughing and lifted his head in the direction of the lights. He scrunched his face up in concentration before he popped out of existence for a moment and reappeared, stumbling less than 5 feet away from his last position.
He near collapsed when he appeared and it was Crowley this time to handle the kid.
"No good… can't get there… world's over." He croaked out in Crowley's arms. Well, the demon was having none of that.
"Snjshfr, i thought you'd walk it after the don't strain yourself comment but I s'pose not" he muttered with mild annoyance, "Try to not get blood on the seats." Crowley spoke up before miracling the kid out of his arms.
Crowley then turned to Aziraphale who was definitely lost in thought.
"What dya think that was about?" Crowley pondered, face scrunching up in something between distaste and confusion.
"No idea. We need proof that the world is ending because if it is, does heaven and hell know? Could Adam be of service to humanity again? Is it the almighty's doing? How does a kid-" Aziraphale began to mutter and ramble off impossible to answer questions, every now and again glancing towards the Bentley.
Crowley took the moment to zone out. Not the helpful thing to do, but if the world really were ending, via moon explosion of all things, he would see it.
He kept his gaze out to the sky for a bit, it took no more than a minute to pass before he saw something impact the moon. Ah.
Externally, the demon was fine, watching the moon splinter from impact, internally however, he felt that. It shook his core, his thoughts fracturing off as the moon started spitting projectiles towards earth. He was only put back together by Vigorous Shaking. Sadly, he didn’t think that’d work for the moon.
"- Crowley, did you stop time by mistake? Now's not really convenient sweetheart," Aziraphale asked desperately.
Crowley looked about and definitely felt that time had stopped.
"Nahnah, wasn't me. But the moons been hit so maybe it's a good thing." He replied numbly, nodding to the moon to show Aziraphale.
"Ah… you don't think this is the Almighty's-" Aziraphale started before he was cut off by the presence of another turning up. This time the pop a lot more audible, followed by the prompt click of a briefcase closing. Crowley wrinkled his face in confusion before throwing a glance over his shoulder to see someone.
"Oh."
Well this is odd. Not one, but two people have seemingly appeared to rudely interrupt the stargazing date. Crowley just hoped this one wasn’t here to talk about the (accurately predicted) end of the world. The cheek of it really.
At least it wasn't another random kid. This time it's a woman, no, a lady. A very well dressed one too. Not alike Nanny Ashtoreth though, Crowley thought. Where Ashtoreth was a lady, she was clearly old fashioned, but not old in the face. This lady was much more modern and meant business, as opposed to dressing for the role of a nanny, and, well, with all due respect looked tired . The white hair, despite the curled style, didn't help with youthfulness and she yielded a very piercing, intelligent gaze as if she had guessed the size of your coffin to-be in the few seconds she focused on you. The ruby red lipstick wasn't enough to distract from the age that lined her face and rather gnarly scar that ran down her right cheek. It could also be said, she probably had better days.
"Oh, indeed." She mused, arching an eyebrow, "Fancy seeing you here Anthony Crowley."
At that moment, Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a look. A hurried glance that was more expressive than any words that were caught in their throats. It's generally not great that Crowley was recognised by name. There’s a lot of evidence to support this.
Crowley blinked at her, racking his brain for any idea of where he knows her from.
Aziraphale smiles warmly at the lady, casting a glance to Crowley in wait for him to identify her.
"Riight, uh, hi there, hrmnkts are you perhaps… a new member of HR? I heard they're modernising that a bit more, wasn't expecting field work from it, very surprising…” Crowley’s eyes scan her once more, “Or are you one of his lot?" He asks, nodding to Aziraphale.
Aziraphale looked truly ruffled at the suggestion, huffing in mild annoyance,
"She's very clearly one of yours crowley, not a hint of… of that about her!"
"Yes but if you note the lack of well, anything, to her too, she's not really from downstairs is sssshe?" Crowley instinctively hissed.
The woman let out a humourless laugh, her face still plastered with a smile. Not a nice smile though, one as empty and laced with the same mild confusion as her chuckle.
"I assure you we've never met before Mr Crowley, I'm a fan. I'm particularly fond of the whole nazi bombing in a church. One of ours was nearly lost in it but… oh if we had more time I'd ask who you worked for…" she trailed off, deep in thought before sighing wistfully.
Crowley squinted at her from behind his glasses, lost as anything. The DvD logo was not hitting the corner.
Recomposing herself, she scanned the area briefly, "Anywho. I don't suppose you've seen a boy about have you?"
Aziraphale was quick to answer, jumping at the question.
"A boy? No, not at all! We were out here stargazing before you interrupted us." To corroborate his story, he gestures to the blanket and abandoned wine bottles. Perhaps too quick but she didn't seem to mind.
"Ah. Right. I must have been off… well. Do enjoy your date." She states, before abruptly popping out of existence, the blue glow encapsulating her for a moment before she’s gone.
"Well fuck." Crowley muttered as time restarted and the moon-projectiles were clearly getting closer.
Aziraphale was quiet, brow furrowed and hand clamped over his mouth.
"Think out loud angel i can basically hear you" Crowley announced pulling his phone out. With nothing more than a brief brush against the other, Crowley began striding towards the Bentley.
"Crowley… who was she? How does she know the worlds ending, how did she know about the church, she didn’t look that old and everyone-- what are you doing?" Aziraphale fretted, snapping his fingers to miracle to the picnic basket into his hand alongside the checkered blanket they were once sat upon.
"Texting Adam." the demon murmured. Aziraphale’s eyes widened before he grabbed onto the back of Crowley’s jacket, forcing him to stop for a moment. Well, Stumble.
"Crowley he'll be asleep! You can't possibly-" He chastised.
"He's awake Angel. Do you want the world to end?" Crowley snapped. His expression fell from annoyed to apologetic before he began his sauntering once again.
Aziraphale pressed his lips together as he jogged slightly to keep up with Crowley's strides. The demon didn't once look up from his phone on the short walk to the Bentley. The only sounds between them was their footsteps accompanied by the little sounds his demons phone made upon sending and receiving messages. The car seemed to feel the concentration emanating from Crowley as the doors opened by themselves upon their arrival. Crowley slotted into the drivers seat casually while Aziraphale slid in the passenger side, looking onto the backseat to see the young man sprawled across the seats, beginning to stir.
"Right. That's sorted, sorry Angel." Crowley finally said a few moments later, placing his phone on the dashboard. [8]
"Sorted? Whatever do you mean dear?" Aziraphale turned to Crowley, hope in his eyes.
"Adam's dealing with it. I owe him an ice cream though. Shall we head back to yours?" The demon smirks at the request but is obviously going to go along with it.
Aziraphale looked out the windshield of the car, into the deep night sky to see the moon slowly but surely piece itself back together. Out of all the things the two had witnessed, Aziraphale could safely say he wasn’t expecting to see the moon both explode and get put back together.
"Let's. I've got something to talk to you about. It’s about our passenger" He nods.
As the Bentley rumbles to life and the sounds of Freddie Mercury's voice oozes out of the speakers, the boy awakens.
“ And we can have forever
And we can love forever--”
"What's… happening?" The boy slurs slightly, trying to sit up as the car makes its way over mounds of uneven dirt. His head pounded and anxiety spiked as the last 15 minutes came back to him. Suddenly, he’s aware he’s in the back of a car he doesn’t recall walking or teleporting to, and, more importantly, he’s still alive.
"We're going back to London. You're welcome to stay with me until you're recovered if you wish. You look knackered my boy." Aziraphale replied cheerfully as the boy sat up.
"But the moon...? There’s no point, you, we- we’re all going to die and you choose to die in this tin can on a motorway?!" He yells, causing the angel to flinch. Crowley however, kept his eyes on the road with a smug grin adorning his face.
"Moon’s not exploding. Antichrist stopped it." He says in a sing-song fashion, just to add insult to injury. He did tell the kid the world wasn’t ending and Crowley was proud to deliver on that promise.
“The…. Antichrist… stopped armageddon…?” The boy says eventually, quietly and slowly, as if he were trying to savour the flavour of an exotic food.
The word, “Impossible” dies on his lips as, without much more thought, the boy collapsed into the leather seats once more, falling into a much needed deep sleep.
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