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“Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?” Crowley said, as if he hadn’t just shook Aziraphale to his very foundations.
Aziraphale stood there for a minute, looking at Crowley’s retreating back as he picked his way through the rubble, and realizations hit him like waves crashing the shore during a storm. Crowley had come back, after almost eighty years of not speaking to him - and had saved him. Had risked his own life and saved Aziraphale’s books. What did it mean?
Well, he thought he knew what it meant, now.
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
“Are you coming or not?” Crowley asked from the remains of the door, looking at Aziraphale with impatience.
“Yes. Right. Sorry,” Aziraphale said, then put his hat on and started picking his own way across the rubble.
When he got to the ruined pavement, there was a path clear of debris, and in it sat a very nice car, a few years old. Crowley walked over to it and pulled open the passenger door with a flair. “Your ride,” he said.
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me, Aziraphale thought, his heart pumping hard.
“Yes, of course,” he said, almost in a murmur, sure Crowley couldn't hear it.
He sat on the front seat of the car with the miraculously saved books on his lap, while Crowley pulled out into the street, avoiding the people who had started to gather to see the wreckage of their church. Aziraphale bestowed an absent little blessing on them, not really thinking about it.
The radio played softly between them - Etta James, Aziraphale thought - but he hardly noticed. His brain was screaming at him.
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
To drown it out, he turned and gave a light smile to Crowley. “So you bought a car.”
“Yeah,” Crowley said, sounding short.
“It’s very nice. How long have you had it?”
“A few years. Nazis, angel? You got mixed up with Nazis?”
“I didn’t intend to!” Aziraphale bristled. “They approached me! And they threatened to kill me if I didn't go along with them!”
“You’re an angel!" Crowley shouted. "You can’t be killed!”
“Well, I could have been discorporated, which is a complete nightmare.”
“I feel like Gabriel and his ilk would have understood if you’d been discoporated for standing up to Nazis.”
“I’m sure they would, but, well, I wanted some excitement for a change. It wasn’t supposed to go the way it did.”
Crowley scoffed. “Let me guess. These two Nazi thugs approached you about the books, and instead of standing up to them, or, I dunno, maybe putting a righteous fear into them by showing them your true form or something, you decided to play spy and ran to Rose Montgomery.”
“I… yes. That’s accurate,” Aziraphale admitted.
“Of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic things to do…”
“Oh, I’m reckless?!” Aziraphale shot back. “You just waltzed into a church, bold as brass. And what’s more, you blew it up!”
“I did, yeah,” Crowley said defiantly.
“There was Holy Water in that church, and you knew it! What if some had splashed on you in the explosion?”
“I had to!” Crowley shouted. “You were going to be discoporated by Nazis - after helping them! And I know the powers that be wouldn't have taken kindly to that! You’d have been reassigned or something!”
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
“So you risked your own life just to save me?”
“Don’t mention it,” Crowley muttered, petulant.
“I will mention it!” Aziraphale insisted. “You put yourself into the same danger I was in. Honestly, you put yourself into worse danger! Hell would absolutely have destroyed you if they thought you were helping me.”
“Well, there’s a way you can pay me back.”
“How’s that?”
“I still want Holy Water.”
Aziraphale went cold. “No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I won’t be party to your destruction!” Aziraphale shouted.
“It’s not for me,” Crowley snapped back.
“Be that as it may, if you spilled even one drop on yourself, you’d be taken out of existence.” And I’d lose you.
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
“It’s just insurance. Protection.”
“Well, I’m protecting you by not giving it to you,” Aziraphale sniffed.
Crowley growled and squeezed the steering wheel. “You’re an insufferable bastard,” he accused through gritted teeth.
“You can call me all the names you’d like, I’m still not giving you a suicide pill. No matter what you intend to do with it.”
“Bastard,” Crowley muttered.
The car was silent for a few minutes, and Aziraphale tried to dwell on their argument, but it was difficult because his brain kept chanting he loves me, he loves me, he loves me.
“Where have you been for the last seventy-nine years?” he asked in an attempt to mute the voices in his head.
“Don't pretend you care,” Crowley snapped.
Aziraphale looked at him with flashing eyes. “Of course I care, you dolt. If I didn’t care about you, I’d just give you the Holy Water and not worry about it.”
Crowley just muttered and took a left.
The silence grew as they rode through Soho until they got to Berwick Street and Crowley pulled the car into a miraculously open spot.
“Won't you come in, dear?”
Crowley wouldn’t look at him. “No. I have places to be, things to do.”
Aziraphale fought down the stab of hurt he felt. “Oh. Fighting Nazis?”
“Among other things.”
He brightened. “Maybe I could join you! We could fight them together!” he said, his voice and eyes hopeful.
“I think not,” Crowley scoffed. “You need to stay the hell away from all of that. As far away as you can. I mean it, angel. Leave the Nazis alone.”
“You’re not the boss of me," Aziraphale told him huffily.
Crowley ground his teeth. “Clearly not. But I’m telling you for your own good.”
Aziraphale tried again, with a small, encouraging smile. “Are you sure you won’t come in? I have some very good scotch, and I could use a drink.”
“No, thank you, angel,” Crowley said shortly.
He deflated a little. “Oh, alright. When will I see you?”
“Small world,” Crowley bit out shortly. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other at some point.”
“I look forward to that day, then,” Aziraphale said with a sad smile, then put his hand on the door to open it. “Goodnight, Crowley. And thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Crowley said, not looking at him. He kept his eyes in front while Aziraphale climbed out of the car, then drove off as fast as he could, leaving behind only the smell of exhaust.