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Since averting the Apocolypse a couple weeks prior, Crowley and Aziraphale had been spending time together almost daily, dining out, feeding the ducks, and just strolling around the city. They’d also been hanging out quite a bit in the bookshop. Since its restoration by the Antichrist, the shop had been closed to the public. Aziraphale said he intended to reopen it at some indefinite point in the future, but for now the angel was so relieved to have his beloved shop back that he didn’t want to share it with anyone at the moment, except of course for Crowley. The demon himself didn’t care about the books, but he had developed a deep affection for the shop; despite the rage and desperation he’d experienced there during the fire, he now felt relaxed and safe in the bookshop. He kept telling himself that he and Aziraphale could go anywhere they wished now without worry of ethereal or demonic scrutiny, but he was so used to hiding their relationship that it was difficult to let go of that anxiety when they were in public. So as much as he enjoyed their outings around London, the time they spent at the bookshop was his favorite.
If you’d asked Aziraphale, he would’ve said that he preferred the time they spent in expensive restaurants, but the truth was that he enjoyed the bookshop confabs more. He too was finding it hard to rid himself of the habit of secrecy. But he now had a more pressing worry, one that found no reprieve, not even in the cozy confines of his shop. In fact, the angel was experiencing a mild existential crisis. And he put so much effort into the denial of this, and in trying to distract himself with reveling in food and literature and conversation, that it didn’t even occur to him that his companion was wrestling with the same burden.
Crowley, being the more introspective of the two, had determinedly dismissed his instinct for denial and had been ruminating very deliberately on their situation. Almost all of his time not spent in Aziraphale’s company had been devoted to self-reflection. The combination of losing his best friend, confronting Satan himself, and risking his life by going to Heaven had had a profound impact on the demon, and he had forced himself to be ruthlessly honest with himself. He’d come to a monumental conclusion, and now it seemed the hardest part would be sharing it with Aziraphale.
But the time had come, so Crowley called his friend. “D’you mind if I come over?” he asked Aziraphale. While it was unusual for the demon to invite himself over, Aziraphale was delighted by the request. “Not at all! You know you’re welcome any time.”
Crowley decided he was too tense to drive his precious Bentley, so he hailed a cab and spent the ride fortifying his resolve to speak honestly. The second Aziraphale opened the door, Crowley made a beeline for the angel’s liquor cabinet and poured himself a scotch. “A bit thirsty, are we?” Aziraphale joked, but catching the look on Crowley’s face changed his attitude to one of concern.
“Is something wrong, my dear?” the angel asked as Crowley gulped his drink while seeming to ignore Aziraphale.
Crowley finished his drink, poured another, and sat down heavily on the sofa before answering. “Look, I need to talk to you about something, and I’m... well, it’s important, and I just...” He took off his dark glasses and put them on the table. He finally met the angel’s eyes and saw that his friend was frightened. The demon quickly said, “It’s nothing bad! Look, I’m sorry for my demeanor, it’s just that... well, you know it can sometimes be difficult for me to be serious.” He gave Aziraphale a small smile, which the angel returned. This calmed Aziraphale considerably, but he was still apprehensive.
“Please, sit down,” Crowley requested. Aziraphale rejected the armchair which was his normal seat and chose instead to sit next to his friend on the sofa. He looked at the demon expectantly, if nervously.
“Right.” Crowley put down his scotch glass, took a deep breath and turned to better face the angel. “So,” he began, forcing himself to maintain eye contact, “I’m sure you’ve also been wondering what to do.”
“About what?”
“About everything! About us, about the rest of our lives!” Crowley said while throwing his hands in the air. He lowered his hands and shook his head. Then he fixed Aziraphale with a serious look. “For the last several thousand years, my existence has been dictated by the fact that I’m a demon, just as yours has been dictated by the fact that you’re an angel. I’ve spent all my time on Earth, until recently, as an agent of Hell. And now, I’m... retired, I suppose you could say.” He smirked slightly, then sighed deeply as he slouched against the back of the sofa and stared into the distance. “Now I don’t know what to do with myself. I mean, going to dinner and the park and all is great, but it’s not enough to build a life around.” Turning back to the angel, he said earnestly, “And it must be even worse for you! You believed so fervently in your mission.” Crowley reached out an clasped Aziraphale’s hand. He said tenderly, quietly, “I know that defying Heaven was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. I saw it tear you up inside to turn your back on the allegiance that had defined your entire reality. And so I know that you must be struggling, desperately, to figure out who you are now.” The angel and the demon both had tears in their eyes. Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hand tighter. He was speechless, but the look he gave Crowley was a pleading for answers.
Crowley smiled kindly at his friend. “I’m not sure who I am either. But I think that’s okay. I think that just makes us more like humans.” He released Aziraphale’s hand and stood up, swinging his arms out. “That’s how they live, right? They aren’t told at the moment of their creation what their purpose is, or how the universe works, or anything. They have to try to figure it out as best they can as they grow up. And while many of them become convinced that they know the answers, they never do - but that doesn’t matter.” He looked intently at the angel as he continued, “Their lives are still meaningful. Right?”
Aziraphale broke eye contact while he nodded and answered, “Yes, of course,” his brow knitted and his mouth frowning. He paused, then looked back at Crowley. “But we’re not human. And we DO know quite a bit about how things work, even if we were sorely mistaken about the two ‘sides’ and Good and Evil.”
“Right, no,” the demon shook his head. “I’m not saying that we ARE human, or even that we can actually live like humans, but we also can’t really keep living as a demon and an angel. We’re no longer beings of Hell and of Heaven, though we aren’t beings of Earth either... It’s like I’ve been telling you,” he sat back down and leaned close to Aziraphale, “we’re on our own side now. So we have to figure out our own rules, our own morality, our own way of living. And I...” Crowley looked down at the floor, then slowly back up at his friend. “I think I’ve figured out where to start.” This was the most daunting part. In the handful of times he’d spoken to Aziraphale with complete sincerity, without hiding behind his facade of detachment and cynicism, he’d been compelled by anger. Crowley was about to make himself more vulnerable than he’d ever been before, and he was terrified. But he’d mentally acknowledged that terror and had resolved himself to wholehearted honesty. To Crowley, this moment felt as if it was the real climax of the whole story - not the crusade to save humanity, but this vital declaration. He took another deep breath and looked, unblinking and beseeching, into Aziraphale’s eyes. “I love you. Our friendship is the most important, the purest, the truest thing in my life. And though I’m a fallen angel, I know that love is good, and it is right.” He went on, as tears started to fall from his eyes and his voice battled to continue, “That’s the answer. If we ground our existence, from here on out, in our love for each other - a love that saved the world! A love between a demon and an angel! - we will know, truly and finally, that we are doing what’s righteous. It may be the only thing I’ve ever been certain of.”
For a moment, the angel and the demon stared into each other’s eyes, neither making even the slightest movement or sound. Then suddenly a loud sob escaped Aziraphale’s throat, and smiling, he threw his arms around Crowley. Laughing and crying at the same time, Aziraphale finally managed to speak. “I love you.” He repeated himself, over and over, as he couldn’t yet formulate any of his other thoughts or feelings into words. Crowley, embracing the angel fiercely, wept, as thousands of years of repressed emotions were released. Eventually, they both quieted, and Aziraphale gently pulled slightly back, then reached his hand to softly caress Crowley’s face. “Yes. That is the answer,” he whispered. They both smiled, and bowed their heads so that their foreheads were resting against each other. The angel said quietly, but with a lightness in his voice, “So what now?” Crowley sighed deeply, then slowly sat up and leaned back in the sofa, stretching out his arms and legs. “Frankly, I’m exhausted. Shall we take a nap?” Aziraphale grinned. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” He stood up and reached out to pull the demon off the sofa, then led him by the hand to the small bedroom at the back of the bookshop.
Even after a six thousand year friendship, before today sharing a bed would’ve been awkward in the utmost. But now they each felt only a slight amusement at that fact, and climbed under the covers without hesitation. They both needed sleep, and each knowing that the other would be right there when they awoke allowed them both to relax in a way that they couldn’t remember ever being able to. Crowley and Aziraphale each curled up, their backs pressed against each other, and quickly, contentedly, fell asleep.