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Crowley was okay . He was fine , doing just well , all good. Sure, maybe things were not perfect, or splendid, or marvelous, but he was doing just fine.
He didn’t need Aziraphale, at all.
Crowley, I need you!
That was a lie, too, the demon scoffed to himself. He was an archangel now, he needed to be an archangel more than he needed to be with Crowley, be something with Crowley, anything, be everything with Crowley. He made his choice, and that was all good, Crowley wished him the absolute best, best of luck, and all that.
He rejected Hell for him, how could someone so smart be so stupid?
Well, of course you did, you’re the bad guys!
Somehow that stung. Of course, he was a demon, damned for all eternity, unforgivable, that was what he was, but he was not the bad guy. Neither, actually.
Why couldn’t Aziraphale see that?
Now that he had his own flat back, with all his plants intact, he continued his days dictating the best for them. At this point sleeping, eating, and even drinking proved to be useless. Everytime he slept, or even blinked, he would see Aziraphale’s frightened face, or feel his hesitant hands on his back, and it would jolt him awake. Everytime he even thought about eating, he would only want to go to Ritz, but that didn’t have a point when he was by himself. And everytime he wanted to drink, his lips would touch the rim of the glass, he would taste the wine in it, and hate it all together. Whenever his lips touched a glass, he would be appalled to the sense that it wasn’t Aziraphale’s lips.
Now that he knew how it felt to have his lips on his, he rejected anything else touching him. He was old enough to accept that trying otherwise would be in vain.
He hated that he still cared, and hated Aziraphale for not choosing him, and hated Heaven, hated Hell, hated everything that was not his angel, but mostly himself. In his better moments, which were rare, he would think that things simply didn’t work out, that they both wanted different things in life, and maybe that was for the better. Because what was the alternative, going back to Heaven and making nice with the lot of them? Ha!
Crowley gritted his teeth and left his living room, he was still scrubbing off the remnants of what Shax did to his apartment. At least he had his home back. Sure, it was no bookshop, but it was no Bentley, either. It was a win for both the car and the demon. What was that thing humans said? Yeah, win some, lose some.
In his case, lose everything.
Whatever.
“If you ever want to see the light of day, I suggest you grow stronger, and better!” He spat out the last syllable as he yelled at his plants. “You’re not in the back of the car anymore, act like it!” He walked up and down between his plants, eyeing their shades of green. “That is, if you don’t want to end up on the side of the road.” He threw his last threat and let them be.
That oughta do it.
What he didn’t expect to find in his living room was, of course, Aziraphale himself– no, Archangel Aziraphale, he thought as he tried to breathe.
“Wha-wha—” He cleared his throat, putting his sunglasses on, just so he would be doing something with his hands rather than strangle the creature before him. “What are you doing in a demon’s den, Archangel?”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, ignoring the demon’s tone, ignoring everything that had happened between them, and couldn’t help himself when his eyes flickered towards Crowley’s lips, now formed in a restrained disdain. The demon didn’t reply, still waiting for his reply. “Well, I, I wanted to check up on you, now that you’re bound by neither Hell nor…” Nor you’re with me , he wanted to say, but bit his lip instead. “Nor Heaven.”
“Archangels don’t check up on lousy, lowly demons.” When the demon spoke, it was as if he spat hellfire. “Nice outfit.” He nodded at Aziraphale’s new clothes. “Does it come with a piano, too, or are you gonna borrow it from Liberacci?” He clicked his tongue, “You gotta talk to the new Duke of Hell for that, I’m afraid.”
The angel –the Archangel – almost smiled at his compliment before it followed with a bite. He looked around and sighed, still maintaining a smile.
“I see you have your apartment back. That’s nice.”
“Are you in the business of real estate, now, ang–?” Crowley stopped himself with a grunt. “Your most respectable Highness?” He said instead, with a snicker.
Aziraphale wished he could see his eyes, behind those dark shades, it would help him to focus somewhere else on his face rather than his lips.
“No, I–” He seemed to be flustered for a moment, and hated that he couldn’t tell him how relieved he was to see Crowley, to hear his voice, even with such antagonistic mannerism. Even though he left him all alone in Heaven, even though he made a place made of light and love look so dim and dull.
Even though he had kissed him.
Oh, sweet God and his holy son, he had kissed him.
How was he supposed to tell Crowley that Heaven was so boring, that there was nothing to eat and no music, despite all the good? How was he going to tell this demon that he wanted to visit Earth, but he couldn’t bear it, and couldn’t dare to step into Ritz without him? How was he, an Archangel of Heaven, supposed to tell a demon who rejected both Heaven and Hell, that he missed him like no other, that he missed him more than food and music and even books?
A little dance of apology would not cut it.
“I wanted to see you.” He murmured, with a sad smile on his face.
“Next time use a television through Heaven.” Not even one muscle moved on Crowley’s perfectly chiseled face. “Or, better yet, don’t let there be a next time. I’m doing just fine .”
Aziraphale stammered for a moment, watching Crowley sitting on one of his leather couches, legs crossed lazily, a hand over the back of it.
“I was wondering,” the Archangel spoke slowly, “If you had a chance to rethink my offer to come back to be–” with me , “to be an angel again.”
“Are you serious?” Crowley almost jumped from his seat, actually fuming. “How many times do you need to hear it, Ang– AAAGH– Aziraphale ? Why would I come back to a place that hated me and cast me out just because I asked questions? Why would I come back, just to fall again?” He shook his head and stopped fuming. “It’s not worth it.”
“Not even to be… with me?” Aziraphale sounded hurt, and Crowley hated that, hated the question and his brokenness.
“Like I wasn’t worth saying no to a damn job offer?” Crowley seethed, but still managed to keep him walking up to his face. He couldn’t predict what would happen if he were too close. “How dare you! I said no to everyone, everyone , to be–” with you ! “to be free! To be us !” He pointed at him with his hand.
Aziraphale stepped closer and Crowley took one back at the same time.
“There will be another one,” he finally admitted. “You were right –” he stammered, “about – about the apocalypse. There will be a second one. And I–” He swallowed and looked around. “I don’t know how to stop it without you.”
Crowley took a deep breath, looked upwards for a moment and then at the Archangel.
“Let it all burn for all I care,” he shrugged and turned around. I don’t have anything left to lose . “Go to Heaven, go to Hell, it’s none of my business anymore.”
He left his own flat with Aziraphale in it.