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The latest batch of would-be exorcists had been decidedly unmannerly. Aziraphale was relieved to see the back of them — albeit far more relieved to have extricated Crowley before things got too out of hand.
Safely ensconced at an inn, Aziraphale poured them both a drink. Crowley was quiet; Aziraphale didn’t interrupt the demon’s thoughts.
“Don’ get it,” Crowley muttered after a while.
“Don’t get what?” Aziraphale asked.
The demon looked up, like he hadn’t expected his mumbling to be heard, then shrugged. “You.”
“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale wondered if he should take offense.
“Why’d you come get me?” Crowley said, and gulped at his drink.
“Well, it wasn’t as if you could have miracled yourself out of there, with that binding on you.” Aziraphale felt slightly defensive. “I’m sorry if you had a plan, but I couldn’t exactly ask you before arriving, and by then I thought it best to simply—”
“Not complaining,” Crowley interrupted. “Glad you did, and… all that. Just, why?”
Aziraphale wasn’t sure he understood what Crowley was asking. “I was in the area, and sensed the ritual. Of course I investigated. Really, what did you expect me to do? Leave you there?”
“...No.” Crowley made an ambiguous head movement, and sighed. “You always help. Just don’t get why.”
“You’d do the same for me,” Aziraphale pointed out. He hesitated. “...Wouldn’t you?”
Crowley looked almost offended by the question. “‘Course I would. I’m here for you. I got your back. Always.” He went briefly silent, then added hastily, “Arrangement. Y’know.”
“Well,” Aziraphale said, and took a careful, not-at-all-emotionally-fraught breath.[1] “So, there. The Arrangement goes both ways. I fail to see why you find this so difficult to comprehend, dear fellow. You have my back, and I have yours.”
“‘S not the same,” said Crowley.
Aziraphale huffed, beginning to be annoyed. “And why, pray tell, isn’t it?”
“”Cause, ‘s not.” Crowley made an impatient noise. “‘Cause I do it ‘cause I lo—”
He broke off abruptly and sat bolt upright, jaw dropped, staring at Aziraphale.
Aziraphale frowned. “What?”
Eyes wide, pupils dilated, Crowley didn’t answer. Instead, he sat stock still for a few moments, then executed the full-body grimace indicative of sobering up.
Once sober, he returned to gaping.
Somewhat at a loss, Aziraphale hazarded, “Are you all right?”
Crowley jumped, and snapped his mouth shut, though he didn’t stop staring. He swallowed, thickly.
Aziraphale’s concern intensified. “Crowley…”
“...Yes,” Crowley said. Slowly, his expression shifted into a smile: soft, wondering, somehow joyous, beautiful in its way as the very glow of lovedness always surrounding him.
“Yes,” Crowley repeated. A third time, with emphasis: “Yes. Definitely. Very all right.”
Ordinarily, Aziraphale would have been quick to peg those words as deflective nonsense.[2] This time, though, between Crowley’s look and tone, Aziraphale was inclined to take the demon’s word for it.
Whatever the reason for it, it did Aziraphale’s heart good to see a genuine smile on his face. Crowley deserved every happiness.
“I’m glad,” Aziraphale said.