Work Text:
Aziraphale was used to traveling, on business and for pleasure. He’d been doing it, on and off, for six millennia and counting. And of course, part and parcel with traveling, Aziraphale was also used to coming home.
What he was not yet used to was being greeted at the door by a bright-eyed demon, armed with a bouquet of terrifiedly lustrous flowers and an awkward, welcoming, ridiculously soft smile.
They stood in the doorway for a silent, somehow uncertain moment, face to face. Then, evidently realizing he was blocking the entrance, Crowley made an incomprehensible throaty sound and stepped quickly aside. Aziraphale walked through, letting the door swing shut behind him… and halted again, a step over the threshold.
Crowley cleared his throat, fidgeting with the flowers and then abruptly remembered their existence. Eyes widening, he shoved the bouquet at Aziraphale, who barely got his hands out in time. Their fingers collided, and went still, pressing against each other.
Tentative smiles were exchanged.
“Ngk,” said Crowley, and removed his hand, leaving the flowers in Aziraphale’s grasp. “For you.”
“Ah,” said Aziraphale.
“Flowers,” Crowley added, in case there was any doubt as to the nature of the organisms.
“They’re lovely.” Aziraphale looked at the bouquet and — admittedly belatedly — confirmed that it was indeed lovely. Oh, good, he had told the truth. “Thank you.”
Crowley grumbled something unintelligible, looking pleased.
It occurred to Aziraphale that they hadn’t actually said hello yet. Perhaps that accounted for some of the awkward feeling. “Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” said Crowley. The awkwardness didn’t quite go away. “Uh. How was the book fair?”
“Good,” said Aziraphale. “I made quite a few bargains. And sold none of my own wares.” He paused, then added on impulse, “Although, I must confess, I was very glad to leave by the end.”
Crowley’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Aziraphale hesitated. “It was good. It’s only… well. You see.” He faltered. It still felt strange, being able to say these things. And yet, there was no reason not to. Not anymore. He took a breath. “You see, I missed you.”
Eyebrows shifting from furrowed to upraised, Crowley looked at him for a moment. Then his lips quirked further, and he took another step forward. “I have a confession, too.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” It shouldn’t have been possible for Crowley’s smile to become softer than it already was, but somehow he managed it. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said, voice low.
“Oh.” Aziraphale’s heart fluttered pleasantly. “So am I.”
“Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said.
In the moment of silence that ensued, he realized with a light stirring of wonder that he’d just thanked Crowley for something twice in a row, hardly thinking about it, and the demon had not objected either time.
Then the grin on Crowley’s face broadened. “Anyway. You were saying… you, a book dealer, went to a book fair, and didn’t sell a single book? How in the world did you manage that? Exactly how many fairgoers did you traumatize?”
Aziraphale laughed.
And suddenly the awkward strangeness of homecoming was gone, and it was just them. Just him and Crowley, the same as ever. Except freer.
“Let’s get a vase for these,” he said, lifting the flowers, “and I’ll tell you about it.”
Crowley followed him, the two of them falling easily into step as they made their way towards the kitchen.
Aziraphale was accustomed to traveling, and to coming home. Being welcomed home, though… that was something new.
But, he decided as Crowley filled a vase with water, he wouldn’t mind getting used to it.