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Aziraphale stared at the glowing elevator, feeling a round of confusing emotions. Was he happy? Upset? He must have felt some semblance of happiness, afterall, this was Heaven he was thinking about! He was handed, no, granted, such an important role.
Metatron gazed at the angel in confusion.
Aziraphale bit his lip, and then remembered how Crowley’s felt on his. Crowley’s rough, anything but, passionate kiss. The way his hand clutched at his shirt, never wanting to let him go, lingered in Aziraphale’s mind, and stayed imprinted on his, never before, touched lips. Aziraphale had always imagined kisses to be done romantically. Perhaps in a dimly-lit restaurant with sweet, enticing music playing in the background... Or on a picnic during a sunset. Maybe something could make the kiss more aggressive but still loving, like during a wedding, which establishes eternal faith between partners. But ultimately, it would still be charming, love-inducing, satisfying. What had happened between him and Crowley was anything but romantic. It was a plea. A plea, begging the angel to stay with the demon, to not go and take what the angel has wanted since creation. It had left both of them shaking, confused. Was that really a kiss, or the bite from a raving, hungry dog?
“Aziraphale? Is something wrong?” That deep, honey-like voice asked, staring at him a bit more sternly.
“Sir, if you would give me just a few more seconds of thought before entering…”
“How come?" He intercepted. "Weren’t you excited for this?”
“It’s just…” Aziraphale turned his head to see Crowley leaning on his car, staring right at the angel.
Quickly, memories flooded in his brain. Experiences, adventures, the times when they were mischievous, where one acted more like the demon and the other acted more like the angel. Temptation, benevolence, ineffability. God’s almighty plan was… ineffable, right?
Why did it feel so wrong, then? Armageddon almost happened. Everyone almost died. Angels wanted to fight, instead of heal and protect. Aziraphale knew that something was different ever since the Beginning. The way he was often pushed aside with stern faux smiles. The way he was expected to let humanity crumble at the snap of a finger. He would help better Heaven, help… mend it with the power he would be given. But… What was that without Crowley? Who would be there to help right his wrongs? There to give some advice? There, to be that person he could, without a doubt, trust?
By falling through such tumultuous emotions, wouldn’t that show that this position wasn’t what he really wanted? No, he wanted this. Had wanted this. This was something he would only desire if Crowley was right beside him. Without Crowley, it would be impossible to not fall into despair.
Soon, he became certain that not many would listen to him, he was too nice, too easy to manipulate. Maybe someday, he could convince Crowley to join him by his side, if the position were to remain open. Metatron did seem eager to hand it to him.
Crowley’s foot seemed to bounce up and down in anticipation. Would Aziraphale come? Similarly, a mixture of emotions boiled within him. On one side, he felt sorrow, despair, betrayal. On the other, he felt like he was in the wrong, like he should join Aziraphale, like he was expected to. How could he, though? Forced onto a side, forced to act a certain way. How could he be his second in command? Weren't they meant to be equal?
Beelzebub and Gabriel got what they wanted, why couldn’t he and Aziraphale?
Aziraphale and him were like two matching puzzle pieces, despite being from different sets. Him evil, Aziraphale good. Opposites attract, no?
Crowley felt his eyes lower as he stared at the concrete and found it hard to hear anything, as a rock began to feel lodged in his throat. He knew this was what Aziraphale wanted. He was a lovey-dovey, happy go lucky, angel whom he cherished far too much… However, this kind of thing was like winning the angel lottery.
Suddenly, gentle footsteps began to sound in his muffled ears. Was that him entering the elevator? Finally leaving him? Why had he even waited?
The sound of those familiar footsteps grew closer, and closer, so close that it forced him to raise his furrowed brows and reddening eyes, which were covered by his shades.
It felt like a round of butterflies exploded from his chest. There. Aziraphale stood in front of him with that cute, warm, loving smile of his.
“Crowley…” Aziraphale mumbled, holding his hands behind his back and shifting nervously on his well-worn shoes.
“Angel. Aziraphale. You didn’t go. Why not? No.. it doesn't matter” Crowley smiled and stood up straight, resisting the urge to force Aziraphale into a rough hug.
“How could I, without... without my partner in crime?” Aziraphale said with that memorable laugh, still glazed with a hint of what looked like regret. Or perhaps, distraught at what could have been.
“Shall we go?” The old angel said, walking to the passenger seat and resting his gloved white hand on the door handle.
Crowley gave a rough chuckle, “yeah.” Aziraphale was too good for heaven, he knew. They would get over this, he was sure. They would travel to Alpha Centauri. Eat at countless Cafés. Maybe Crowley would read one of his books or two.
He began to drive with his left hand steering the wheel. He turned on the radio, playing, “What a Wonderful World.”
Aziraphale smiled warmly, “I love this song, Crowley.”
“I know.”
The two rode off into the sunset,
The End.