Chapter Text
"The holiest"
Well, as far as tap water could be holy, Aziraphale thought. There were too many risks involved with giving Crowley any actual holy water. The least of which would be the business with head office. They were sure to be alright with giving some holy water to a demon, they might think he'd become actually competent after all these centuries. That wouldn't exactly be difficult to work with, no, quite the opposite, but it would make him feel something awful.
The second problem with it was what it could be used for. Crowley had made the request about a hundred years ago, and he just had to refuse. To give his friend something that could destroy him...he couldn't. The demon had denied him wanting it for suicide, but Aziraphale tends to be a worrier. Even if it wasn't, there were too many variables. What if he just happened to drop the thermos one day and the holy water splashed all over him? Even just one drop would do the trick. Or what if he did need to use it against other demons and some happened to hit him too? Aziraphale wouldn't be able to deal with having handed his friend the instrument of his destruction.
But it turns out Crowley was dedicated to this cause. He'd just so happened to hear about a church caper, organized by a charming redhead who wore sunglasses all the time, even at night. It hadn't taken much guesswork as to who that might've been. This was also dangerous and set off Aziraphale's anxiety like nothing else. This could go wrong in a number of ways. If Crowley so much as brushed against a drop of the holy water during this little heist, he'd be done for. And all Aziraphale would hear of it was the man with the funny haircut who seemed to melt away during a church robbery in the newspaper. Or not even that. Maybe the humans wouldn't even believe it enough to put it on the news, and Aziraphale would live the rest of his life wondering where on earth Crowley had gotten to. Or he'd wonder until Heaven sent him a little note praising him for finally eliminating the demon Crowley and now that he isn't there, well, he doesn't even have to be on Earth anymore, does he? That would be unbearable.
So, all he did was just fill up a thermos from the sink in the back of his shop and take a quick pop over to Crowley's Bentley. All that stood in his way was trust.
"Perhaps one day we could, I don't know. Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz"
If it was depression motivating all this, it might be good to give him something to look forward to. After the fight in St. James's Park, Aziraphale had read everything he could on depression and suicidal tendencies and mental illness. Truth be told, there wasn't a lot of it at the time. But what he did learn about supporting someone with a mental illness, he vowed to put into practice with Crowley. Unfortunately, a week or so later, the demon had gone down for his century-long nap, and what could he do about that? He did pop over to his place a couple times, check up to see if everything was alright and to clean up the place a bit. Make sure no one tried to sell it.
And it wasn't like he didn't want to spend time with Crowley. A picnic and dinner at the Ritz with him sounded like a wonderful time, and he would very much enjoy doing it. Ideally, as many times as possible. But Aziraphale couldn't enjoy anything with Crowley if he got himself killed. No more secret meet-ups, no more teasing remarks, no silly fights about silly things, no more nights in his backroom drinking more than any human possibly could. These little moments were too precious to him, he simply couldn't risk losing them. It'd kill him. He couldn't risk losing Crowley, more like. He could do all of those things with anyone he found on the street, but they wouldn't mean so much if it wasn't his friend.
"You go too fast for me, Crowley"
Aziraphale could've meant the driving or them. He mostly meant them, but he'd intended to make it sound like it was about his madman driving. That mostly failed.
He wasn't an idiot, at least not about love. He was an angel, he could sense it. And he could sense the waves of love coming off Crowley unlike anything else. If he had to admit it, he felt very much the same about the demon, but he wouldn't admit it. For himself, admitting it would get him in a world of trouble. Most likely, head office would just accuse him of being too soft and having been on Earth too long and station him back in Heaven to do something else. In a worst-case scenario, they might make him Fall, but besides the initial pain, he figured it couldn't be horrible. At least there he could be with Crowley without anyone breathing down his neck. Maybe Falling was a best-case scenario. Anyway, he knew how to sneak out of Heaven, so being assigned there wouldn't even be horrible.
But what Hell could do to Crowley for loving an angel....he doesn't even want to think about it. Hell is vicious and Hell doesn't hold back. So, at least for now, Aziraphale couldn't do anything about his own feelings, and Crowley would have to ignore his own as well. Aziraphale had worried about the demon since the Arrangement, the things Hell would do just for that!
So yes, Crowley moved a bit too fast for Aziraphale's comfort in these things. Maybe one day they could be together without prying eyes, but today wasn't it. And if Hell did come for Crowley about...whatever, Aziraphale was certain he'd be there. Crowley had helped him out of more than one sticky situation throughout history (another thing Hell could get on him for!), he needed to return the favor at some point. Of course, he hoped beyond anything that he wouldn't actually have to save the demon from the forces of Hell, mostly because he hoped he'd never get in trouble with the bosses down below. Aziraphale knew he wasn't entirely incompetent, he could probably fend off a demon or two. He just never wanted to see his friend in that type of trouble. Crowley didn't need holy water, as far as Aziraphale was concerned. He had an angel.
Besides, they'd been keeping their secrets for millennia now. If Heaven and Hell hadn't caught on now, they probably never was. No reason for anyone to be going out and risking their life for a weapon that could so easily backfire on themselves.