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“Well, obviously you said no to Hell, you’re the bad guys.”
These are the words that make Aziraphale wake up. ‘You’re the bad guys.’ Why did he say that?
“But Heaven!”
His mouth is still moving, and it’s only now that he’s woken up that he realizes he isn’t actually choosing to say these things. It’s like his mind thinks one thing and his mouth says another. He can see Crowley staring at him incredulously as he lauds Heaven with praise he doesn’t mean to say.
“Tell me you said no.”
Crowley inches forward and Aziraphale can’t remember. Why can’t he remember? It was only moments ago, wasn’t it?
“If I’m in charge,” His mouth says instead, charging on without his permission. “I can make a difference.” It’s not what Crowley wants to hear, and it’s not what Aziraphale wants to say. His eyes are wild, wide, and frightened and he begs internally for Crowley to be able to read them, to know he’s not in his right mind.
But Crowley doesn’t seem to be either, as he paces and turns and begins a monologue that makes blood rush to Aziraphale’s ears from the sudden excitement and confusion as he tries to piece the demon’s words together. He watches Crowley choke on his words, clear his throat, and Aziraphale’s tongue feels so heavy in his mouth. He can’t make it move, can’t command it to tell Crowley that he knows. That he understands. That he feels the same way.
“Just the two of us. We don’t need Heaven, we don’t need Hell, they’re toxic! We need to get away from them, just be an us.”
Aziraphale’s head shakes without him wanting it to, denying Crowley before he can even finish his speech. Aziraphale wails in his head as he watches himself ignore Crowley’s bleeding heart being held out to him and instead suggests the demon give up everything he’d made for himself to return to the side that cast him out all those millennia ago.
He watches his mouth curl into a pained smile as Crowley tries to reason with him, reminding him of how much his worldly goods mean to him. Remind him of all the things he has here on Earth to love, even if Crowley isn’t one of them. He watches himself so thoughtlessly reply.
“Nothing lasts forever.”
Crowley puts his glasses back on and Aziraphale is lost. All he can control is his vision, all he can do is try and plead with his eyes for Crowley to stop him, to realize this isn’t right, and now he can’t tell where the demon’s looking. He strains against the blocks in his mind, desperate to keep Crowley here.
“We can be together!” Aziraphale almost thinks he’s escaped his self-contained prison, and then he continues. “Angels! Doing good!” How could he ask this of Crowley? How could he ever think he’d want this? “I need you!” Aziraphale begs, and it’s almost reality until his mouth follows it up with another heartless jab, suggesting Crowley doesn’t know what’s good for himself.
Crowley’s eyes are hidden behind his glasses and it’s been so long since he’s worn them when it was just the two of them. He’s only by the door, but with those on it’s like he’s a million miles away.
“No nightingales.”
Aziraphale’s internal suffering is nothing, compared to seeing what he’s done to Crowley.
“You idiot. We could have been us.”
His head turns and now he can’t even see Crowley anymore. It’s a blessing and a curse. And then it happens.
Crowley closes the gap between them, grabs him by the lapels, and kisses him. And Aziraphale can’t kiss back. He can feel the gentle heat, the soft press of lips on lips that he’s indulged in imagining on and off for the last century, and he can’t return it. He feels Crowley’s desperation, his determination to wait for a sign, any sign that Aziraphale wants what he does. A sign that he’s his first priority like Aziraphale is for him. Not Heaven or Hell, not Earth. Each other.
Aziraphale fights desperately to give it to him. He can’t get control of his mouth but maybe if he focuses he could take back something else. He concentrates on his hands, and just as he’s getting them to do what he so deeply wishes, to console Crowley, to embrace him, Crowley reaches his limit and pulls away in defeat.
His emotions start to overwhelm whatever’s blocking him, and he can feel tears prick at his eyes as he breathes heavily. ‘I love you. I need you Crowley. I want an us too.’ Aziraphale repeats it over and over in his mind, desperately willing his mouth to follow suit.
“I forgive you.”
Anything but that.
“Don’t bother.”
Aziraphale is left alone in the bookshop. He can still move that hand, he realizes only when he absently touches it to his lips. The feeling of Crowley’s lips on his still lingers there, unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. His mind is in such turmoil that he thinks he’s got a chance to take more back, and he tries to focus on his legs, to follow Crowley, and that’s when The Metatron walks back into the bookshop.
The Metatron. This started when he spoke to The Metatron, didn’t it? Or perhaps just before. He can hear himself having a conversation with him without any of what he’s actually thinking escaping his lips. Did The Metatron have something to do with this? Why would he bother? What importance was Aziraphale, what could he possibly do that would be worth wasting The Metatron’s time?
He realizes that The Metatron’s here to bring him to Heaven, and Aziraphale cannot let that happen. He fights harder than before, uses every last ounce of energy he has left to try and take back his body. Aziraphale walks towards the window, looking out in an attempt to spot Crowley. He’s not there.
“I think I…” is all he gets before he loses his grip again and then he’s smiling a wrong smile and following the other angel outside.
The Metatron tells him that they’re working on something called the Second Coming, and the shock’s enough to still his feet. Aziraphale wants to tell him he’s had second thoughts, that he’s not really the right angel for the job. He wants to run in the opposite direction and not stop until he ends up in Crowley’s arms. Instead, all he can do is turn his head slightly, one final attempt to see Crowley.
He manages it, the demon’s watching him from down the street. He’s too far away to see the pain on Crowley’s face, and Crowley’s too far away to see the desperation in Aziraphale’s. The Metatron stares at him, and when Aziraphale meets his eyes again his feet move without his permission and bring him inside the elevator. The Metatron presses the button for Heaven, the doors close, and Aziraphale is gone.