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Eden
4004 BC
Aziraphale was in such a state of puzzlement that he didn’t notice the demon coming up behind him.
That was a problem in itself, of course. Demons were dangerous, and Aziraphale was supposed to be guarding the Garden from threats, which Aziraphale naturally assumed meant demons. But that was where the logic broke down, because there was one particular demon who failed to trigger any sense of danger or fear in Aziraphale at all, and could in fact walk right up behind him anytime he pleased without setting off any of Aziraphale’s guard instincts.
“How are things?” Crawly asked, offering a startled Aziraphale a smile. Crawly was very good at smiling, Aziraphale had noticed. His eyes would widen and his body would lean slightly closer, as if— well, as if Aziraphale might actually be related to his happiness somehow. As if maybe Aziraphale made him happy, which was ridiculous, because if Aziraphale had never made any of his fellow angels feel that way, then it was impossible that Aziraphale could inspire such a lovely emotion in a demon.
“Things are odd,” Aziraphale said.
Crawly’s scarlet eyebrows rose. He was also so pretty, Aziraphale thought, with what was supposed to be impassive observation and should never, ever be the sort of devoted admiration that Aziraphale suspected he was actually feeling.
“Odd?” Crawly asked.
Aziraphale pointed to the ground, where there was a pair of rabbits eating grass. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a black one before.” He stepped a bit closer. The white rabbit noticed and it took a little hop toward its dark companion.
“Well, they’re the same animal, aren’t they?” Crawly asked. “Just different colors.”
This answer also caused an uneasy feeling in Aziraphale. He looked at his own companion: seemingly quite the same as himself (though terribly pretty) and yet dressed as a dark, demonic opposite to Aziraphale’s angelic white. “Are they?” Aziraphale asked faintly.
Crawly looked entirely untroubled. “Sure! And I’ll bet there’s a blue one somewhere, and a pink one. Even yellow, maybe.”
Was Crawly joking? Aziraphale wondered. Sometimes he seemed far too naive to be an evil demon.
“Could go looking,” Crawly suggested, with hope clear in his voice. “You and me.”
Crawly didn’t have any friends, Aziraphale knew. The other demons seemed not to care for him, and in some small, locked place in his heart, Aziraphale knew exactly how that felt.
“Yes, let’s,” Aziraphale said.
New Zealand
232 AD
Everything was going so well, and then Aziraphale saw the dolphins. There were a large group of black ones chattering and leaping into the air near the beach. His suspicions steadily growing, Aziraphale watched until he caught sight of one black one by itself, and yes, there— there was a white dolphin beside it.
“Oh, blast,” Aziraphale said. He spread his wings and lifted into the air. Below him, the island looked green and verdant, healthy and alive. That would not last long. Aziraphale flew over the terrain, close as he dared to the large mountain in the middle. Finally, he spotted a bit of black in a clearing and swooped down. He landed hard enough to startle Crowley into nearly falling over.
“Angel!” Crowley exclaimed.
Aziraphale stalked closer. “What are you doing here?”
Crowley, unsurprisingly, got a little defensive. “I can be here if I want to.” He frowned, which was an unpleasant look on his beautiful face. He wore clothing as black as the dolphin, which had to be quite hot in this climate. “I don’t like it in Hell,” Crowley complained. “I mean, it’s hell in Hell. Yeah? Nicer up here.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Look, we need to leave.” Aziraphale motioned for Crowley to unfurl his wings and follow him.
Crowley only raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed petulantly. “There’s no rule that says I can’t visit an island and see the flying mice.”
“The— what?”
Crowley waved his hands around in some sort of unhelpful illustration. “There’s mice here! But they’ve got wings, all attached to their fingers. They go flying around at night!”
“They’re called bats,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley frowned in disapproval. “Well, who called them that? Should be called flying mice, that’s way cooler. And makes more sense.”
“I’m sure it does. Crowley, we really need to go.”
“What for?”
“Because I don’t fancy being on this island when the volcano explodes!”
“Volcano?” Crowley asked.
Aziraphale pointed at the mountain, which dominated the landscape. Even now thin white smoke was venting near the lake that had filled an earlier crater. An enormous crater.
“Well,” Crowley said, snarkily, “She does like to damage Her own creations, doesn’t She?”
Aziraphale was not in the mood for blasphemy or uncomfortable truths. “At least there are no humans here,” he said. “Dolphins, bats, plants— that couldn’t be helped.”
Crowley abruptly turned to face Aziraphale with a look of intense scrutiny. “Did you get it put here?”
“What?”
“The eruption. Moved to a place with no humans. I thought you weren’t consulted on policy decisions.”
“I wasn’t consulted. I—” Aziraphale sighed. “I may know someone who is, and might’ve put the idea in their head. It doesn’t matter. Come on.”
Crowley was too busy looking smug. “You’re rescuing me.”
“I am arguing with you. And if you don’t come now, I’m going to be discorporated with you, so let’s go!”
The island— the entire thing— gave a rumble, and Crowley’s face paled. “Yeah, all right.” Gorgeous black wings spread from his shoulders and he lifted off of the ground with Aziraphale. They flew through the white smoke cloud, emerging into blue sky. It wouldn’t stay blue, Aziraphale knew. Nor would the beautiful island stay green.
“Suppose I should say thank you,” Crowley said.
“Well, you sent the dolphins, what did you think I was going to do? Ignore them?”
Now Crowley looked confused. “Dolphins?”
Aziraphale wasn’t buying it. “It’s been nice talking with you.”
“Oh, are you leaving?” Crowley sounded disappointed. “You don’t want to watch?”
“It’s too dangerous.” Aziraphale meant the volcano. And he meant something else, something that had to do with a light creature and its dark counterpart together in the sky. “Just get somewhere safe, please.”
Barcelona, Spain
1975
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “There is no such thing as a white gorilla!”
Everyone in the gorilla exhibit at the zoo fell silent. There was only the sound of the gorillas snuffling and chewing, and the murmur of other crowds nearby.
A small child dashed up to Aziraphale and said, “That’s Snowflake!” She pointed excitedly at the enclosure. “See! The other gorillas like him a lot.”
Aziraphale looked at the troop of gorillas behind the glass. At the very least, the black ones didn't seem to care that one of them was far lighter. They looked impassively at the humans and angel, and then went back to their activities.
“I suppose they do,” Aziraphale said, feeling oddly jealous of a gorilla with a large group of friends.
Aziraphale stood a while with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting to hear a familiar step. People came and went from the exhibit, eating popcorn and drinking from plastic cups. Children crowded closer to the glass and adults to the back, all in unconscious imitation of the group that had come through right before them. Aziraphale remained, static, unchanging, until he finally sensed his— his friend? Counterpart? Adversary?
“Angel?” Crowley asked. “Huh. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Very funny,” Aziraphale said. Crowley, of course, was utterly lovely in the sunlight, shaggy scarlet hair and stylish dark glasses. Aziraphale could maybe blend in with the humans at the zoo, even if his clothes were outdated, but Crowley— Crowley must have been an exceptional angel, because now even in dark colors, he was, well— divinely beautiful.
Crowley looked concerned. “You okay?”
“Yes, fine. What did you need?”
Crowley’s eyes were well hidden, but Aziraphale could read the emotion on his face easily. Crowley was worrying that he’d misstepped somehow. “I just came to see the zoo. I’m on assignment nearby.”
“Yes, I am as well,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley brightened. “Oh. Well— we could get dinner, maybe. Talk it over? Have a business meeting.” He pointed off into the zoo somewhere. “On the way out we could see the flying mice.”
Aziraphale hummed a bit, amused. “I wonder if any of them are descendants of the ones you saved from that island with the volcano.”
Crowley’s mouth fell open. He quickly shut it. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Aziraphale smiled at him, stupidly happy. “Of course not.”
London
2008
Aziraphale inhaled deeply, taking in the glorious smell of the sushi on the counter. Fine food really was meant to be enjoyed with more than just taste. Just then, he noticed a white bird land on the windowsill beside him.
Aziraphale could have melted with happiness. A warm restaurant on a rainy night, exquisite sushi, and now, as soon as the black bird landed, he’d have a visit from Crowley—
Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath as he saw another white bird land beside the first. Startled, he turned to find Gabriel standing beside him. The archangel made a disgusted face as he looked at Aziraphale’s sushi. Then he proceeded to talk on and on about something Aziraphale didn’t even want to understand.
Aziraphale never did eat his food. Gabriel always ruined his appetite.
Once back at the bookshop, Aziraphale sat down on the couch, in the light of one lamp. He held a book, but he wasn’t even sure which one it was.
These were the difficult nights, the ones where Aziraphale wished that he was in the habit of sleeping. Usually, he was glad to have the quiet hours to read, but sometimes, in the silence, his cluttered shop felt overwhelmingly empty.
It was worse because he had expected Crowley at the restaurant. Gabriel was hard enough to handle, but Gabriel instead of Crowley was the height of disappointment. Crowley was so different from anyone on Aziraphale’s side. He was snarky and rude, but not— not like Gabriel. Crowley didn’t look at Aziraphale or his habits with disgust. He teased, but it was never serious. It was banter. It was fun.
Aziraphale knew, of course, that he had it backwards. Gabriel was right to look at human food with disgust. The reason Crowley approved was because he was a demon and he wanted to encourage Aziraphale in sin, like gluttony. Aziraphale was a weak excuse for an angel because he wanted the encouragement of a demon over the chastisement of his own kind.
And yet. Somehow Crowley inspired Aziraphale to a feeling that he had for no one else in all of creation. Surely Crowley couldn’t be all bad if he managed to have an angel fall in love with him. Surely it wasn’t wrong to love him. After all, in some sense, weren’t they the same creature, only different colors?
A movement outside his window caught Aziraphale’s attention. It was another white bird. Aziraphale could barely breathe, watching it walk back and forth on the sill. Finally, another bird joined it, and this time, it was black.
Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief as the telephone rang. Aziraphale picked it up, trying to keep the smile from his voice. “I'm afraid we're quite definitely closed.”
Crowley’s voice came over the line. “Aziraphale, it's me.”
Tadfield
2019
Just after the abotchalypse
Aziraphale sat on the bench, waiting for the bus to come. Across the street was another bench and on it, another pair of creatures, one dark, one light. Only this time—
“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley paused with the wine bottle at his lips. “Course I am. What did I do?”
“They’re sitting on the opposite sides. The birds!” Aziraphale pointed. “See, the white one is on the left.”
“Birds,” Crowley said slowly.
“Yes! It’s genius. We’ll switch places, too. You and me. Choose your faces wisely.”
“You mean— I’ll go to Heaven and you to Hell? Yeah, that’s— that is brilliant.” Crowley still had a puzzled look on his face. Aziraphale didn’t often see Crowley in such low lighting. There was always lamplight, at least, and candlelight before that. One might expect Crowley to blend into the darkness, what with his black clothing and sunglasses, and yet he never quite did. Something about him always shone.
Aziraphale was absolutely certain that he could step into Crowley’s corporation and pretend to be him. He knew Crowley nearly as well as he did himself.
There was the walk, of course. That would probably take some practice, but with Crowley’s snaky hips to help, it shouldn’t be too difficult. The snarky remarks would be effortless. After all, Aziraphale did generally hold up his end of the banter. Then there was the bravado Crowley put on, the cool persona, the flash bastard. Aziraphale had always found that part of Crowley frustrating, because on the one hand, it was obviously an act. And yet something inside of Aziraphale believed it. Crowley really was more capable and smooth than he himself ever thought possible.
That only left the sweetness inside. The Crowley who rescued bats from volcanoes. Who never harmed an angel who drank himself defenseless in the company of a demon. Who could sneak up behind the Guard of the Eastern Gate of Eden without arousing any fear. Aziraphale had loved the sweetness of Crowley always. He could definitely play that for truth, even in the depths of Hell.
Crowley was frowning at him now. “When you say the birds—”
“Fine,” Aziraphale said, with a laugh. “Play coy about it. I won’t give you the credit if you don’t ask for it.”
“Oh no,” Crowley assured him. “I’ll always take credit. Demon, you know.”
London
2019
Just after the trials
They sat on the park bench, having switched their forms back. Aziraphale gave a contented sigh as he settled back into his corporation, hopefully permanently this time. He had been out of his body quite a bit lately.
They soaked in the sunshine, not talking, and yet smiling together. Aziraphale got caught up in watching the white and black swans swim along the river. It took him a moment to notice the pairs of white and black dogs, and rabbits, and squirrels.
“A white squirrel,” Aziraphale mused. “Don’t know if I’ve seen that before.”
Beside him, Crowley made a sort of uncertain noise. “Angel, I know you think I’m doing that, but I’m really not. It’s never been me.”
Aziraphale looked Crowley over carefully. He appeared to be telling the truth. “Oh,” he said, puzzled. “Have you noticed it, though?”
“Yeah.” Crowley looked uncomfortable. “I sort of hoped you were doing it.”
“Hoped?”
Crowley seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I thought maybe you were giving me a sign. Showing me how you thought we— we went together.”
“I thought it was a sign that you hadn’t given up on me,” Aziraphale said softly. “That— that no matter what I said or didn’t say, you had faith in me. In us.”
Crowley was staring at him, his expression a sort of stunned hope. “Oh,” he said. And then, “Well now, look here, if it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me—”
Aziraphale shifted nervously. “You don’t suppose it was—” He pointed a finger up at the sky.
“No. No, no. We’re not on speaking terms.”
“Well, maybe that’s why She didn’t use words. Maybe— maybe She did plan it like this, all along.”
They both jumped as a white songbird and its black companion landed right on the bench beside them. Aziraphale could swear that the birds were giving them an impatient look.
“Yeah, all right,” Crowley said with a reckless grin, and reached for Aziraphale, pulling him into a kiss.
Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the beautiful demon that he loved, and for a while, they were just one more happy couple of opposites in the park.