Chapter Text
The air was starting to get cold. Aziraphale only realized this when he wanted to worry at his ring, an instinctive gesture performed countless times over the years, and couldn’t because his hands were shaking. He sighed. St. James might not be the best place to be at this late hour, even on an august evening. But, well, it wasn't like he could have gone back to the shop.
“It burned down, remember?”
Crowley’s words echoed softly in his head. Said with so much empathy. So much pain. And while it seemed Adam had fixed many things in this world, he just couldn’t bear to go and look for himself. The day had been rather taxing on him and if the shop wasn’t fine, he didn’t know if he could bear it. And going somewhere with humans hadn’t felt quite right either. Too alive, too much of a reminder, too distracting and what he needed were no distractions. It was time to properly think.
His brain, however, seemed like it hadn’t gotten that particular memo since he had been staring out at the water for – for he actually didn’t know how long. He felt bone-deep tired, weary and restless and the only thing he could focus on was. Was Crowley. Crowley who had had just as terrible a day as him. Crowley who had offered him a place to stay, with him. Crowley whom he’d had rejected, once again.
Aziraphale sighed and got up from the bench. He had been a fool, fool to think he could do this on his own. After all, he never truly had done the important things alone. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to, and he was too tired to lie to himself. For whose benefit.
And so, Aziraphale found himself knocking on a door in Mayfair.
And when the door opened, he stepped inside.
And when Crowley’s arms opened too, he stepped into the offered embrace, closing his eyes.
“Hello, Angel,” Crowley said and Aziraphale finally felt warm and at rest.