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Aziraphale sat quietly next to Crowley as the bus began its route to London. Crowley stayed silent after settling into the plastic chair, so Aziraphale turned his head to look at the scenery going by the window. Everything was quiet outside, pleasantly still and peaceful. It was almost impossible to believe that the world had been so close to ending only a few hours ago. All of their issues weren’t settled though. Heaven and hell were going to come for them, and sooner rather than later. They needed to talk properly about what the prophecy seemed to suggest they do.
Aziraphale cast a glance at Crowley, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. And what if they were successful in getting rid of both hell and heaven? What next? What could their relationship be after this? Until now, the entirety of their relationship had been defined by the fact that they weren’t free to do what they wanted to do. They weren’t allowed to be close; they weren’t allowed to openly care about each other; they weren’t allowed to feel something for each other. There were rules that they had to follow and there were boundaries that they had to acknowledge.
They had bent the rules more than once over the millennia to accommodate their growing closeness, but nonetheless, some things had always been out of the question between them. What would they do if heaven and hell were suddenly out of the equation? How would they manage this shifting in their relationship? What would they even want to do with this newfound freedom?
It was something very difficult to admit for Aziraphale, but somehow, these rules had always been convenient for him, because they were a safety net. He couldn’t get too close to Crowley. He couldn’t get too attached. The rules had kept him safe from having to admit feelings he didn’t want to have because it was strictly forbidden. The rules had always exempted him for having to make a conscious decision regarding his relationship with Crowley. Things were the way they were and there was nothing Aziraphale could do about it. But everything was different now. Now, he couldn’t hide behind rules anymore, because as Crowley had said, there were no sides anymore, just theirs.
Crowley shifted next to him and Aziraphale looked at him. Crowley offered him a tired smile before sliding further into his chair, trying to fit his long limbs into the small space. Aziraphale could tell that Crowley had closed his eyes, the hectic events of the day finally getting the better of his mortal body.
Aziraphale knew he had hurt Crowley repeatedly over the millennia under the guise of not being on the same side. He had never apologized for it, and yet, Crowley had kept showing up, over and over again, to help Aziraphale when he needed it. Crowley had never asked for anything in return. He was simply there, giving, and offering, and caring without expecting anything.
The only time Crowley had been distressed enough to break the rule was when he had asked Aziraphale to run away with him. Crowley had actually pleaded with him, frantic and terrified, desperate to protect them both from the upcoming war. Aziraphale had rejected him without a second thought, completely dismissive of Crowley’s panic, badly wounding him in the process.
Aziraphale’s biggest regret was fresher than this though. It went back to about only a few hours ago. Satan was coming, Aziraphale was panicking, and he had threatened Crowley with not speaking to him ever again if he was unable to come up with a solution. The incredulous, wounded look Crowley had displayed at this threat prompted a fresh wave of guilt in Aziraphale. Using his certainty that Crowley would do anything for him, no matter what the cost could be for Crowley, was particularly manipulative. Completely unworthy of an angel. No. Worse. Completely unworthy of a friend.
And yet, Crowley had complied and found a way, like always, eager to please Aziraphale even when he was being unfair or unreasonable. Aziraphale couldn’t think about one time where Crowley had let him down actually. He had been his constant rock over the millennia. How ironic to think that a demon was actually the best friend he could ask for, when he, the supposed being of love had been so unreliable and hurtful. Aziraphale had been a bad friend. A really bad friend indeed.
Friends?
Was it really what they were?
Aziraphale had always been very good at turning a blind eye to things that he didn’t want to see, but even he wasn’t this oblivious. It was impossible to miss the fondness in Crowley’s eyes when he was looking at Aziraphale, or the softness of Crowley’s smile for him, and him only. It was impossible to deny everything Crowley had done for Aziraphale, even when he would have paid a very high price to hell for helping an angel. It was impossible not to notice the way Crowley had taken care of him and cared for him since the very beginning of their relationship.
Aziraphale was almost certain that Crowley wouldn’t be opposed to some evolution in their relationship. And Aziraphale thought that he wouldn’t be opposed either; on the contrary. This possibility of more had been brewing between them for such a long time, it was impossible to remember a time when it wasn’t there. If he were more honest with himself, Aziraphale knew he could never love anyone as much as he loved Crowley. And now, there was nothing in the way anymore that could prevent this progression in their relationship. Well, given that they could settle their last issue with heaven and hell of course. And what if they couldn’t? What if they were both dead by tomorrow?
“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said suddenly, startling Crowley out of his slumber.
Crowley turned his head to look at Aziraphale, and made a questioning noise.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said heaven wanted the war as much as hell,” Aziraphale clarified, “I should have trusted you.”
Crowley nodded in acknowledgement, and Aziraphale looked away from him, turning to the window again.
“We should have run away together,” Aziraphale said in a low voice. “I’m sorry I was such an idiot and hurt you in the process.”
He felt Crowley stiffen by his side and anxiously waited for an answer that didn’t come. Aziraphale risked a glance at Crowley and cursed the sunglasses that made his face so much harder to read. The only thing that was so very obvious was that Crowley was absolutely exhausted. The amount of power he had to summon to stop time in Tadfield must have completely drained him. On a sudden impulse, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. Crowley flinched, taken aback by the unexpected gesture. Aziraphale squeezed harder, trying to convey some of his racing thoughts by his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he said again softly.
Crowley nodded curtly, looking away from Aziraphale, obviously not very at ease but not trying to remove his hand either. After a few agonizingly long seconds for Aziraphale, Crowley finally squeezed back.
******************************
They didn’t let go of each other’s hands until they had to descend from the bus. They then walked silently side by side until they reached Crowley’s flat, where they settled on the couch with a sigh of relief. Aziraphale took the liberty of miracling two glasses of wine into existence with a wave of his hand, wine that Crowley gulped down immediately. He had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole ride home, and even if Aziraphale was well aware that exhaustion was playing a big part in Crowley’s silence, it still made him particularly anxious at this time. Cautiously, he extended his hand and took Crowley’s into his with a tentative look.
Crowley frowned and looked at their clasped hands.
“Is it a new thing we’re doing?” Crowley asked a bit curtly.
Aziraphale nodded. “I would like to, if you are not opposed,” he murmured.
Crowley abruptly removed his hand from Aziraphale’s grasp and put more space between them on the couch.
“What are you playing at?” he asked harshly. “This isn’t a game.”
“No, it’s not. It’s very serious,” Aziraphale answered with a frown. “I know I have been a very bad friend to you and I want to apologize.”
Crowley shrugged.
“Well, I appreciate the apology but I don’t think we need to hold hands for that, do we?”
“No, we don’t,” Aziraphale agreed. “I would like to hold your hand just because I want to.”
Crowley pinched his lips and shook his head.
“I don’t understand,” he said finally. “You already apologized on the bus, we made peace by holding hands so I think we’re good here.”
“I have so much more to say to you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said in a low voice. “I was thinking about a lot of things on the bus. I was thinking about us, what we could be from now. There are a lot of things we should talk about…”
Crowley raised a hand to stop him talking.
“We are not having this conversation now,” he warned firmly.
”But why not?” protested Aziraphale.
“Because I don’t want to,” Crowley said simply. “I’m a minute away from collapsing from exhaustion and we have more important things to talk about right now. I appreciate the apology, angel, but we’re good. Don’t worry about it. You have no more apologies to make.”
Aziraphale wanted to object, because, yes, he still had a lot of things he needed to apologize for, and there was the subject of them that he badly wanted to address but Crowley cut him off, raising his voice a bit.
“You are aware that if we don’t come up with a plan right now, there is a good chance that we’ll be dead by tomorrow, right?”
Aziraphale nodded with a heavy heart.
“Then we need to focus on that so I can go spend what might be my last night on earth in my bed,” Crowley said firmly. “Us, if this is something that you finally want to talk about after millennia of denial of our friendship is not the priority right now. What would it change to discuss it now anyway? It’s probably too late. You’ve always had the worst timing, angel.”
There was no heat in Crowley’s voice but an underlying edge of sadness that made Aziraphale flinch. He wanted to protest, to push, because the possible imminence of their deaths was making this conversation, contrary to Crowley’s assertion, a priority in Aziraphale’s opinion. The tortured expression on Crowley’s face changed his mind though. Crowley looked like he was a second away from falling apart and Aziraphale wasn’t really sure why.
Crowley turned away from Aziraphale with a shaky sigh and Aziraphale suddenly understood that Crowley didn’t want to take the risk of changing anything between them when the only time they might get together was this one night. It would be too hard for Crowley to get what he had yearned for, for so long, just to have it rip away from him in only a few hours. Crowley had always managed to keep a certain form of lid on his feelings, and now Aziraphale was dangling in front of him something that was probably out of reach because it was too late. Far from soothing Crowley, Aziraphale was making everything worse and harder for him.
Aziraphale wanted to hug Crowley so badly that it hurt. He wanted to erase all the pain he had caused Crowley and promise him there was no more to come. But he had absolutely no right to push Crowley. He couldn’t press a conversation Crowley clearly didn’t want to have, not when Crowley had always been so respectful of Aziraphale’s pace and needs. Aziraphale owed him that much so he voiced his approval with a fragile sound of agreement.
Crowley stood up abruptly, sweeping up their glasses of wine to bring them to the kitchen for a refill, when he could have done it with a click of his fingers. When he came back, his face was carefully set in a mask of fake serenity that was painful to watch.
Crowley resolutely engaged the conversation about the prophecy with a false enthusiasm that had Aziraphale aching. He obliged himself to focus, because if he wanted a real chance to make amends, they had to find a way to get themselves out of this mess with their head offices. Furthermore, Aziraphale could see Crowley’s bone-deep exhaustion in addition to all the rest, and it physically hurt Aziraphale to see him like that.
They agreed on the body swap after weighing the pros and cons at length, and they decided to do it first thing in the morning. Nothing would happen tonight. As soon as they had reached this agreement Crowley stood up, the sudden movement making him sway on his feet.
“Really want to sleep now,” he murmured. “You are welcome to take my bedroom. I’ll stay on the couch.”
Aziraphale wanted to protest that he would take the couch but Crowley glared warningly at him and Aziraphale didn’t have the heart to upset him any more. He smiled faintly at Crowley and slowly walked away from the couch. His steps felt like lead, heavy with the sadness of moving away from Crowley, the anger for what heaven and hell was putting them through and the fear for what was to come. Getting to the door Aziraphale pivoted on his heels, deciding abruptly to push one last time because what was left to lose?
“Would you be opposed to sharing your bed?” Aziraphale asked a bit out of breath.
Crowley stiffened and Aziraphale’s heart sank.
“Just sleep of course,” he added hastily. “Just to be next to each other.” The last words were almost imperceptible as Aziraphale’s throat had tightened painfully. “Please?” he exhaled at last.
The few seconds it took Crowley to answer were agonizing.
“Sure,” Crowley said finally. “Why not? After all, we might be dead tomorrow, right?”
“Not the reason why I’m asking,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley gave him a warning look and Aziraphale wisely didn’t press the matter.
Crowley led the way, miracling black silk pajamas on his body as he walked towards his bedroom. Aziraphale did the same but opted for a cotton fabric with a tartan pattern. He could have sworn Crowley bit back a smile when he noticed his clothing choice.
Crowley collapsed on the bed with a heavy sigh, eagerly crawling under the comforter. Aziraphale lay down next to him, very careful of staying on his side of the bed. Crowley closed the curtains and turned off the light with a snap of his fingers, leaving the room in a pleasant half light. He settled on his back with a grunt, then rolled on his stomach a moment later, only to turn onto his back again after a short while. Crowley mumbled in frustration, turning his head to look at Aziraphale whose tentative smile was barely perceptible in the half light.
“If it’s bothering you to have me here, I’ll take the couch,” Aziraphale whispered. “I want you to sleep.”
Crowley sighed heavily again but shook his head and raised his arm, motioning to his own chest with his chin.
“Come here,” he grumbled.
Aziraphale slid across the bed in a heartbeat and rested his head against Crowley’s chest, snuggling into his body. Crowley lowered his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and pulled him closer.