Chapter Text
Aziraphale watched Crowley leave. The second he shut the bookshop’s front door, Aziraphale raised his hand near his face and softly placed his fingers over his lips, the lips that had just been kissed by his best friend. He let his fingers linger there for a bit, as if trying to remember the rough yet warm and tingly sensation that was Crowley's lips on his own. Aziraphale didn’t know how to feel anymore, his emotional state was in disarray, he felt upset, and confused. His vision blurred, and eyes started to sting. A wave of nausea and lightheadedness overwhelmed him. His chest grew tighter just thinking about everything that had just transpired.
He… he had thought getting this opportunity to become supreme archangel was a good thing. He could have the position and authority to really improve the way things were handled in heaven, and even better, Crowley could become an angel again. The two of them could be together, together without the pressures and problems that came with an angel and a demon being friends.
Turns out Aziraphale had greatly underestimated how negatively Crowely would take the news of his unexpected promotion.
Something he had felt so excited and sure about before had become something that brought him great uneasiness and uncertainty. Now, he’s not too sure what he should do. He hadn’t had enough time to fully process what had just happened yet.
As his lightheadedness and nausea only seemed to get worse the longer he stood there, he took this as a sign to take a seat to catch his breath and sort through his thoughts properly.
Taking a seat on the nearest chair, he placed both of his hands on his lap, and lowered his head. He focused on the sight of his hands, this being the only thing keeping him grounded; allowing him to calm down and really think about everything with a level head.
Now that he really had a chance to process everything, did this promotion even make much sense? Both him and Crowely have been treated with nothing but hostility from both sides ever since their help in stopping Armageddon, I mean they even kidnapped them and tried to execute them! Why would they ever want to offer such an important position to a “traitor”? Why would they want to allow a demon to be appointed as an angel again? Aziraphale’s senses started to come back to him. He didn’t even want to leave, he made a life for himself on earth and he quite enjoyed it. What was he thinking before? He tended to look for the good in things even if there wasn’t much of it there but he wasn't that gullible. No wonder Crowley–
Crowley.
The pit in his stomach only grew thinking about their last interaction. Aziraphale’s face felt hot and flushed as he brought his hand up to his cheek then proceeded to lightly brush his fingers over his lips once again. Before he knew it the tears he had been trying so hard to hold in started to overflow. He didn’t know what previously came over him during their conversation, but that was not him. Crowley meant everything to him, so he didn’t understand why he had said those things and hurt him so. He loved talking to him, loved spending time with him, loved feeling like he was cared for…
He loved him.
This realization hit him. He always knew he had feelings for the demon, he just would stop himself from admitting those feelings, never putting them into words. Their relationship had always been just fine as things were, so why try and change it? But things were different now, they had fights before, but never one like this.
“I need to do something, I need to go after him…” he quietly said to himself as he started to get up from his seat.
“What was that Aziraphale?”
Aziraphale’s head shot up, surprised by the sudden presence of another. He found himself looking at Metatron standing not too far away from him. He must have been too distracted to notice him walk in.
“Oh uh, I uh, well you see-” Aziraphale stuttered, as he quickly wiped the leftover tears from his face, getting up quickly from his chair. Metatron, seeming to ignore the troublesome state that Aziraphale was in, interrupts his stammering with a question.
“Right, well are you ready to start?”
“Well I- uh,” Aziraphale started to answer. He had to come up with some reason to turn Metatron down.
“Uh, um… my bookshop,” he quickly says, backing up while gesturing to the room.
“Yes, well for now I’ve entrusted it to Muriel,” Metatron says as he points over to said angel waving enthusiastically through the shop’s front window. “So it should be in good hands.”
“But…” he started to say, but nothing else wanted to come out. Refusing the position was harder than he had thought, it was like his body wanted to do nothing but to nod and agree. Was he afraid of the consequences of refusing what heaven wanted? No… he had done so before whenever he felt like he needed to, so why was he suddenly so hesitant now?
“Anything else you need to take with you then?” Metatron pressed on.
Aziraphale, clenched the end of his coat, as if frustrated with the lack of control over his body, “No, nothing I can think of…” he muttered while fixing his eyes to the floor.
“Ah, well shall we be on our way then?” Metatron said as he gestured to the front door with a smile on his face.
Sweat began to accumulate on Aziraphale's forehead and the hold on his coat seemed to get stronger. “No” he said with strain "I think you misunderstand.” At this point Aziraphale’s skin started to grow paler as he continued to speak. “I’m not bringing anything with me because I don’t want to go... so, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to decline your offer” he spat out like it took every bit of effort to say.
Silence being his only response, Aziraphale raised his head to find the slightly surprised expression of Metatron.
“Are you sure this is what-” he begane, but Airaphale was quick to cut him off.
“I think I’ve made myself quite clear. Now if you would excuse me I have somewhere I need to be,” He said as he began to walk past Metatron.
Airaphale hadn't caught this but right then Metatron’s expression seemed to darken.
Aziraphale had made his way to the front door of the bookshop and opened the door hoping there was a slight chance that Crowley hadn't left yet. Looking over to where the Bently was usually parked he was hit with the relief that Crowley was still in fact there... like perhaps he was waiting to see if Aziraphale would have changed his mind. But right as he was about to call Crowley's name a hand was placed on his shoulder. Just then a familiar voice whispered into his ear, “Oh Aziraphale… you should have just accepted the offer.”
Then before he knew it everything became dark.