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“Crowley?”
Crowley looked up from his orchids, plant mister still in hand. Aziraphale hovered in the doorway, hands twisting together, eyes wide and distressed. Oh, shit.
“Angel?” Crowley tossed down the mister and shoved his orchid pot on the table, then bounded across the room in a few quick steps. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I…” Aziraphale spun his wedding band around and around, shuffled his feet, dropped his gaze. “Crowley, I’m so upset.”
“About what? Did something happen?” Heaven? Had they gotten another intimidation letter from Heaven? More demands? Or was it something from Hell this time? “Are we in danger?”
“N-No, not that. I’m sorry. Should have been more clear.” Aziraphale offered a faint, apologetic smile, then reached for him. Crowley gathered his trembling hands. “Can we talk in the window seat?”
That was always a good spot for hard conversations. They’d worked through a lot of bad memories there, gazing out at Crowley’s ever-expanding garden. “‘Course we can.”
Once settled in the window seat, Aziraphale curled up against Crowley’s side and fell silent. Little waves of tremors washed over him, hidden emotions lapping at the shore of honesty. This must be something that had built up for a long time, something that Aziraphale been trying to deny. He always tried to bury the pain, but that only worked for so long.
Crowley didn’t push. He pressed a few light kisses to Aziraphale’s head and rubbed slow, soothing circles across his back. Whatever it was, it would come out eventually.
After several minutes of gazing out at the half-full plot of daffodils, Aziraphale sniffled. “Crowley, may I ask you something?”
Crowley’s chest tightened. This could be anything. Something about his past, something about Aziraphale’s past, something related to morality. “Always, angel.”
Another pause. “How…how did you cope with losing faith?”
Oh, gosh. Crowley swallowed hard, the tightness worsening. They’d never talked much about that, aside from his occasional drunken ramblings or outbursts of anger. “Er… I dunno. Can you tell me why you’re asking? Might be able to help more if I know what you’re looking for.”
“Well… Ever since Armageddon, I’m afraid I’ve had…” Aziraphale drew a shaky breath. “A crisis of faith, I suppose. There’s simply so many things I’m upset with Her about, and…over the past few years…life with you is so wonderful, but because of our natures we weren’t allowed to be together for so long, and I don’t understand…”
His breaths hitched. A low, pained sob broke loose, and Crowley held him closer. “S’ okay, angel. I’m here. Just take your time.”
“I-I…” Aziraphale buried his face in Crowley’s neck, trembling. “I don’t understand any of it. Why She set things up the way She did, why Heaven and Hell have been allowed to cause so much harm. Why She never intervened. It all seems so, so wrong.”
Another sob. Crowley forced himself to keep breathing, to disconnect from his own anguish about Her actions. “Yeah. I don’t understand either.”
Aziraphale’s voice dropped, quiet and hushed, as if afraid he’d be struck down for blasphemy. “I’ve given up, Crowley. I don’t believe anymore. Not in Her, not in the Plan, and…”
He started to cry harder, body quaking in Crowley’s arms. Crowley gathered him in a tight hug and rocked him. “Shh, I’m here. I’ve got you, angel. I’m so sorry.”
Aziraphale wept, his sobs raw and heartbroken. Battling against his own tears, Crowley pressed careful kisses to his head. This sounded too much like his own breakdowns, many of which had happened while surrounded by these very plants. The same anguish, pain, grief.
It had been inevitable, maybe. After everything Aziraphale had gone through, all of Heaven’s bullshit manipulation. After Heaven even tried to execute him. After God left them to face Armageddon alone. It was no wonder he had doubts now.
But it still hurt to know just how much he was suffering.
When Aziraphale’s sobs died down to sniffles, Crowley ruffled his hair and nuzzled against his head. “I’ve got you, angel.”
“Oh my.” Aziraphale pulled away and wiped at his eyes, hand shaking. Crowley stroked his hair and waited. “Oh, I didn’t mean to break down like this. But I simply…I’m so sad about all this. I tried for so long to believe, to be a good angel. And I just can’t pretend to believe in Her good intentions anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I…” Aziraphale looked at him, brow creased. “How did you cope?”
Crowley hesitated. “I…I don’t really see it the same way as you do, angel. I never got the chance to lose faith. I just got…thrown away like, like I was a toy with some little manufacturing flaw. Not perfect, so it got chucked in the rubbish.”
The look of sadness on Aziraphale’s face intensified. “I suppose it was rather different.”
“M’ not trying to invalidate you. I just dunno how much I can help.” Crowley took his hand and squeezed, aching for him. “I got tossed out with no explanation, no chance to decide or even to think about it. It wasn’t that I’d lost faith. I hadn’t. I just had questions, things I didn’t understand. I wanted to understand everything.”
Aziraphale lifted his hand and kissed it. “Oh, I can believe that.”
“Yeah. Got me in trouble, that. So… After I Fell, I just kept trying to understand. Over and over and over, raking through everything I’d done, analyzing it, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong, how I’d fucked up. I didn’t think it was fair, but until recently it never occurred to me that I…”
The words stuck in Crowley’s throat, and he swallowed hard. He dropped his gaze to their joined hands, trying to focus on that instead of the deep, aching wound of rejection. It never healed, although it bothered him less now that he was surrounded by Aziraphale’s constant, unconditional love.
“It never occurred to you that you didn’t deserve it,” Aziraphale finished for him, voice soft. “That you weren’t the one at fault in some way.”
“Mm.” Crowley fidgeted with a crease in his trousers, stomach tight. He needed a drink. Several drinks. A couple bottles, maybe. “Thought that whatever I’d done wrong meant that I was…unlovable. Unworthy. Unforgivable.”
“My Crowley.” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him, the brush of his lips light and sweet. “My husband. You are so very, very lovable.”
“Hrgh.” Crowley stole another quick kiss, then sighed. “So…yeah. As far as coping went, I asked about fifteen billion questions. Obsessed about what I’d done wrong. Got really angry, drank loads…”
Aziraphale made a quiet sound of pained amusement. “I do think you perhaps had the right idea about drinking a great deal. I think I’d rather like to indulge in some wine tonight.”
“Okay.” Crowley swayed gently from side to side, mind racing through a million plans to make Aziraphale feel better. He had to do something. “Really wish I could help more, but you can talk to me.”
“I know I can. I always know I can, it’s just…” Aziraphale shivered. “It’s so very difficult to discuss these things. Even to acknowledge them. I-I often feel as though…”
He cut off again, clearly struggling to find the words, and Crowley nuzzled against his cheek. He slid the fingers of his free hand into Aziraphale’s hair, ruffling through it until it stuck out wildly. Then, just as gentle, he smoothed it back into order.
Aziraphale leaned into the contact and swallowed hard. Pain pulled at his expression, and he clutched Crowley’s hand tighter. “It seems so silly. But I-I can’t even express what I’m afraid of without…”
He gave Crowley a helpless look, and Crowley stitched the pieces together. The deep pain in his own chest that resonated with Aziraphale’s, offhand comments that the angel had made, the terror in his eyes now. “You feel like She’ll punish you if you say that you’re afraid She’ll punish you?”
Lip quivering, Aziraphale nodded. “I-I’m not allowed to…to question…”
He grabbed at his heart, and Crowley folded around him. “Shh, shh. You don’t have to figure it all out right now, angel. It’s okay to have questions and doubts, but it’s also okay not to deal with them all at once. Sometimes things are too painful to deal with right off, and pushing too hard can make it hurt a lot worse. Learn from my mistakes, yeah?”
With a sniffle, Aziraphale turned into the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, buried his face in the soft black fabric of his shirt. “C-can you distract me? You’re right, it…it’s too scary. I don’t want to think about it anymore right now, but I don’t know how to stop.”
“Sure, I can do that. Master of distractions, me.” Crowley hugged his angel tight and rubbed his back, nuzzled into the fluffy hair. “Nnh, let’s see… You wanna bake a cake together? We can put on some music, bake, drink wine. Maybe we can look through your new recipe book and figure out what else you wanna try.”
“Oh, could we?” Aziraphale pulled back and gazed up at him, eyes teary. A tiny smile crept onto his face, hesitant as a deer peeking out from behind a tree to see if a grassy field is safe. “That would make me so happy. I love to do things with you.”
“And I love doing things with you. So we’ll both be happy, yeah?” Crowley hooked two fingers under Aziraphale’s chin and lightly raised it, then brushed his lips against the angel’s. Just a sweet, careful kiss, as gentle as the one Aziraphale had given him earlier. “I’m always here for you, angel. Whatever you need. Talking, hugs, distractions… I’m yours.”
And now the smile on Aziraphale’s face spread, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Can I have a hug, and then distractions, and then maybe we can talk more about this later?”
Crowley drew his angel back into a tight, secure hug and kissed his neck. “You can have anything you want.”