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The Metatron walked into the bright elevator, and Aziraphale paused. Dozens and dozens of busy londoners and tourists were passing him by, not even bothering to look up and spare him a glance. None of them were interested in the white light coming out of the elevator that was not supposed to be here. These doors always led to a pub. Surely they wouldn’t just suddenly change their mind and become a portal to the heavens.
Aziraphale wasn’t bothered by the elevator either. He was more concerned about the ‘second coming’ comment the Metatron had made. The Voice of God looked back at him, raising his eyebrows. His hand was hovering next to the buttons. Ah, of course. Aziraphale moved to take the final few steps.
Then he stopped.
His head wasn’t- he still couldn’t- it was all too much, he couldn’t sort through all his thoughts and feelings. The ground felt unusually unsteady under his oxfords. He was far too aware of the cold air touching his lips, and all the noise coming from the humans made every attempt to process at least half of what had happened futile. And yet there was one clear thought.
He looked back.
Two black circles stared at him from across the street. A figure leaning on a car. Crowley leaning on their- on his- on the Bentley. Unmoving. His plants were there, inside. And people walked around him too, noses pointed down to watch their step or to look at their phones.
Aziraphale looked at the elevator again. Too many thoughts, too much, too fast. He took a deep breath.
Across the road, someone got into their vehicle, smashing the car door loudly.
He smiled brightly at the Metatron and took the final step to the elevator. If he had stood on the pavement for a second longer he would have started glowing. And not in the joyous, heavenly kind of way. Aziraphale reached for the door handles. In the panicking way. In the ‘oh, so this is the end of the world’ way.
He grabbed the handles and pulled. The Metatron’s eyes widened, his finger accidentally hitting the button. The elevator took him back Upstairs alone.
There was just a pub behind that door. And a lost angel in front of it.
***
Crowley started the car and sat back. The corner near The Dirty Donkey was already empty, no angels in sight. The bookshop on the other side of the road was empty, too. Lots of humans around though. Plenty of humans. Oodles.
A garden, he was thinking about a garden. One glance at the radio made it clear why. He leaned forward and turned it off. His car was not just about to turn against him. Not happening.
It was too lonely without the music though.
He let his hand rest on the steering wheel.
And then there was a hand on his wrist, tugging him to turn to face the passenger seat. Aziraphale’s miserable face made him itch to summon another lightning.
“Did you come to say ‘bye’?!” He pulled his hand away. His shoulder pressed into the car window. The angel’s hands reached out for him again and landed on his shoulders. “What-”
“I only wanted…” Aziraphale began and then shut his mouth. He pressed his lips together. Why the fuck was Crowley noting it.
“To bring back the old days. For me to become finally enough for you again. I get it.” He could just let his temperature rise to unthinkable degrees. That would get those hands off him. “Get the fuck out.”
“What? No! I”--he let go of Crowley–”wanted us to work together.”
“We had been working together.”
“We had been running away together. But that”--Aziraphale pointed to the empty corner–”was a chance to actually do something. To finally try to make it right.”
“MAKING IT RIGHT!” He spread his arms out as far as he could, showing Aziraphale his teeth in what he hoped was a mocking gesture. “Getting me to be holy and nice. Brilliant plan, Aziraphale.” He nodded to the passenger door and it flew open. “Go.”
The angel did not go. “This is not at all what I mean-”
“Ohhhh, sorry, no, I am not hiding any memories in some insects right now. I think I recall what you had said pretty clearly.” He motioned him to go again.
Aziraphale’s ass was still in the passenger seat. “I said I need you.”
“And ‘nothing lasts forever’.”
“You said-”
“OH, I TRIED SAYING A LOT, ALRIGHT.”
He opened the car on his side and got out, walking around the Bentley to get to the passenger seat. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulder, dragging him out of the car until the angel finally started putting his own feet one in front of the other.
“Crowley-”
“What is wrong with you?” Crowley said, shoving the angel and letting his hand fall. He glanced around the busy street. Hopefully Aziraphale would get the memo and get to the other side, away from the Bentley.
The angel did not, in fact, get the memo. He simply stayed in the middle of the road and tried to challenge Crowley to a staring contest. Nice, now they needed some human to run him over. It would be spectacular.
“I don’t- I can’t lose you over this. Not now.”
“If there is anything you will lose me over, it’s this, actually. And you’ve made your choice clear.”
Aziraphale straightened up, as if he had some point in this conversation. “Have I now?”
“Oh yeah. You have.”
“Tell me what I’ve chosen here then.”
Crowley was about to tell him to go take a swim in the Thames but then had to quickly grab Aziraphale’s sleeves and tug him back closer to the coffeeshop. A car flashed before his eyes.
“Oh. Oh, thank you,” said Aziraphale, glancing back at the road. Being here with him felt ridiculous. And it wasn’t even funny this time.
“Don’t you think the levitating head guy has been waiting for you long enough?”
Aziraphale looked at him for a few seconds. He clasped his hands together. “He’s… not waiting for me Crowley.”
“What?”
“I’m not going- No, that’s not right. I really would love to go.” Crowley tilted his head. Aziraphale pursed his lips. Thinking about lips and faces wasn’t really Crowley’s favourite way to pass the time, especially when that expression was still fresh in his memory. He bit on his tongue. “Imagine what we could do! But… but I am not losing you over this. Over the coulds and woulds. I thought you would come with me. I hoped you would. But if you don't, so be it then.”
A bitter chuckle got out of his throat and Aziraphale furrowed his brows again, apparently waiting for Crowley to lash out. He hated it. He truly, really hated it.
He shook his head slightly. “So you said… ‘no’?”
“I believe I closed the door right in his face.”
“Not at first though.”
Aziraphale looked at the ground. “No. I- actually I was about to leave.”
The blow was expected, but, hey, no matter how much you expect it, a falling piano doesn’t feel nice when it lands on you. Aziraphale looked him in the face again and something in Crowley’s stomach loosened. Oh, they were talking. Like those two had suggested. It felt disgusting, talking. But it involved asking questions and even possibly getting answers so Crowley took a deep breath.
“Why did you come back then?” he said, keeping his tone as flat as possible.
Aziraphale did not smile.
His voice did not come with laughter.
He did not call Crowley some stupid endearment.
Instead he looked like he was about to shatter into pieces when he said, “I love you.”
It reminded Crowley of his own plans. He had been meaning to invite him to the Ritz. Drink lots of alcohol. Celebrate possibly.
“I,” he said and then took a step back. His voice sounded off. He reached out to touch his face. His fingers were wet. “Fuck.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Nina and Maggie had convinced him then, they really had. He had wanted to talk to Aziraphale, glasses off. In the privacy of the bookshop.
“Fuck,” he repeated. His lenses were getting less and less transparent.
Aziraphale’s twisted expression right after he had pulled away was almost imprinted into his eyelids.
Crowley’s foot met the Bentley. No more steps back to take. He couldn’t see anything and then-
Arms. Arms around him, holding him. His glasses dug into his nose but he didn’t care. When he heard a sob coming from someone other than himself, he couldn’t help it anymore and wrapped his arms around the angel.
“I… I can’t just forget this, Aziraphale. This needs time." He closed his eyes. "I need time.”
The angel let out a broken noise and started pulling away. Crowley squeezed him tighter.
“Need a hug first,” he said into his shoulder. And Aziraphale stayed with him.