Chapter Text
After Aziraphale left, Crowley was a mess. But not in the way one would expect. Well, maybe for some, but Crowley was anything but traditional. Or rational.
He sped off in the Bentley, but he didn’t get far. He intended to, initially. He wanted to drive far away from anything and everything that reminded him of his companion, and never look back. Unfortunately for him, his heart wasn’t broken enough to allow that. Somewhere deep inside, a flicker of hope remained, hope that his Aziraphale would return and everything would be right again.
Plus, he couldn’t leave Muriel alone to tend the books. They were still so innocent and naive. It was equivalent to leaving a child unattended.
And so, to blow off steam, Crowley instead sped in large circles around London, like an angry little demonic tornado. He did this for at least twelve hours nonstop before finally returning to his usual parking spot in the alleyway behind the bookstore, and he nonchalantly re-entered its hallowed halls as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever occurred.
He started to busy himself with putting his former partner’s cherished books for sale, as any jilted lover would. Fortunately for Aziraphale, people in the surrounding area weren’t used to Mr. Fell ever parting with any of his books, and therefore no one came into the shop to claim them.
And so, little by little, Crowley miracled the angel’s books into coasters, to hide them in plain sight, and possibly give Aziraphale the shits when he inevitably returned to find half his library gone. It was a way of causing damage without actually causing any damage. Something Crowley wished Aziraphale had done for him. At least his friend was right about one thing. Crowley was indeed kind.
Muriel too behaved like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and did their best to help Crowley as he sorted through books, looking for the ones he knew Aziraphale would miss the most, and turning them into coasters. One by one. It was a form of therapy, one might say. But he didn’t let Muriel know about it. Instead, it was as if he was playing pretend with a child. He acted as if someone came in and took the whole lot, and it made them giddy with joy to know that they were being an actual shopkeeper and bookseller.
That, at least, he did feel bad about, as he was lying to them. But it was better than the alternative, making them think their job here on this earth was pointless.
Crowley stepped out into the foyer, book in hand as he mused, “I guess keep all the Jane Austen books, he wouldn’t shut up about them and if he visits he’ll definitely … notice.”
He stopped short when he realized the person he thought he was speaking to was not Muriel and actually his … Aziraphale.
“Hello, Crowley,” the now archangel greeted softly.
He was positively brimming with joy, his smile ear to ear, dressed in a suit such a bright white that it damn near blinded the demon and you could swear his halo was visible. He stood there in the entryway, his hands clasped around a fresh cup of coffee (since when did he drink coffee??) standing proudly and yet, somewhat awkwardly, as if this wasn’t him, and it clearly wasn’t. He was playing the role he was given, no fault there, but Crowley couldn’t help but detest him for it.
“Oh.” Was all Crowley could manage, flatly. “It’s you.”
Aziraphale’s smile faltered, but he cleared his throat, ignoring that less-than-enthusiastic response, and he got straight down to business, as usual.
“I have a proposal for you-“
“Not interested.”
“You don’t even know what it is!”
“Don’t care. Muriel?”
The peppy little angel rushed to his side with an even more obnoxious grin than his now former best friend, though Crowley had grown rather fond of the little cherub-faced entity.
He tossed them the Jane Austen book he had in his hand and they scrambled to catch it, “You can put the Austens on the sales rack, price them to sell but keep in mind they are first editions-“
“Not my Austens! Crow-ley!”
“They’re just material objects, nothing lasts forever.”
“I- that’s true but … but they’re signed copies!”
“What are you gonna do, take ‘em to Heaven with you?”
Aziraphale looked defeated, and he sighed, looking to the heavens for a moment, “You’re distracting me! I don’t have much time.”
“Well then, better make it quick, because I have a date.”
“I’ve been assigned- date?” Aziraphale perked up, suddenly livid, “With whom??”
“I don’t know, Nina and Maggie are setting me up. I’m just being a good friend.”
“I - really, with a mortal?”
“Can you get on with whatever it is you’re here for?”
Aziraphale blushed hotly, taking a sip of his coffee to calm down, Crowley supposed. Ironic.
“I’m to oversee the Second Coming,” he announced, smiling.
Crowley’s stomach plummeted as he looked at the angel, eyebrows raised, “Why the Hell are you smiling?”
“Oh it’s not as bad as you think-“
“Not as bad?” he asked incredulously, whipping his glasses off so that he can look him in the eyes, his yellow orbs blazing with fury, “You can’t be serious. So they’re having you lead the angels to do all the smiting and casting to Hell all those they don’t deem righteous? You know how humans are, don’t you? Very few are actually without sin. Sin is hard to not come by. You’re essentially assisting in Heaven wiping out most, if not all, the entire human race!”
Aziraphale shrugged, smiling nervously, taking a gulp of his coffee with a satisfied lip smack, “Clean slate, I suppose.”
Crowley rushed towards him, smacking the coffee out of his hands, sending hot liquid flying about the room, onto his precious books that Crowley and Muriel had been sorting through. Muriel, who had been trying to mind their own business as she sorted them, jumped as she avoided getting splashed.
“Crowley, what’s gotten into you?!”
“Sorry, kid,” Crowley said to Muriel, ignoring Aziraphale, “Why don’t you take a break, get me something from the cafe, yeah?”
“Yes, perhaps another oat milk latte with-“
“No more coffee!” Crowley seethed, eyes ablaze as he whipped around to face his former companion.
Muriel nipped out of the shop fast as they could, but not before glancing back at them fearfully.
“Look, I know you’re upset that I took this job-“
“Upset doesn’t even come close to how I feel.”
“And I know you’re mad at me for not reciprocating the … the umm …”
He touched his fingers to his lips, eyes glassing over as he remembered, realizing that he was standing in the same exact spot where it happened.
“I didn’t expect you to. I’ve said my peace. I’m over it.”
“Are you??” Aziraphale asked incredulously, motioning around to his half-vacant bookshop.
“Stop changing the subject, and stop drinking that coffee, it’s obvious the Metatron is up to something, and he’s setting you up to be his next martyr!”
“Oh, don’t be silly, I know you have your opinions about him-“
“Aziraphale, I’m dead serious.”
“Just because I didn’t choose us …”
“Us be damned! I’m not saying this as some kind of scorned lover, I’m telling you this merely as a neutral party! A concerned bystander! You’re going to get yourself killed! Or worse, blinked from existence!”
“They wouldn’t do that to me.”
“They very nearly did so to Gabriel, and all he did was ask questions. All I ever did was ask questions! You defied God about as many times as I’ve defied Satan, at least Hell has the decency to call me out on it! Heaven acts as if it’s all forgiven meanwhile everyone knows they just lie in wait, hoping for the perfect opportunity to strike. They need someone to take the fall for something so big, and you’re that someone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Refuse the coffee, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Crowley spun on his heel and returned to his sorting by the window, going through the covers as if the angel wasn’t there.
Aziraphale’s eyes lowered, looking at the spilled beverage all over his bookshop. His eyes landed on his prized fiction novels.
“You’re not really selling the Austens, are you?”
“Why not? Rubbish thing, romance. Humans eat that crap up.”
Aziraphale’s eyes glassed over, swallowing hard, “Yes, I suppose it is … rubbish. Fleeting, as well, it seems.”
Crowley tossed his head back with a low hiss, putting on his glasses, “No, not fleeting. At least not for me. It lingers, like a cancer, eating me up … perhaps one day it will destroy me.”
Aziraphale shook his hands at his side stressfully, and rushed over to his side, on bended knee, “Come with me, dearest.” He insisted, squeezing his arm, “Come to Heaven. We can rule together! We can turn this around! Stop it from happening!”
“Didn’t we already go through this once before? Is this your proposal then? Repeating your initial proposal? I’ve heard this song before.”
“We stopped the apocalypse together …”
“This is different, angel, and you know it. This is actual Armageddon. They’re not going to be swayed this time. Only way out of it is Alpha Centauri, and I’m not going there without you.”
“Don’t be silly, Crowley. If you stay here, when this happens-“
“I’ll discorporate, yeah. Probably blink out of existence. But there are worse things …”
His fingers fell to his lips and he kept them there, lost in thought. The angel’s heart broke, remembering the kiss …
Aziraphale watched him through his tinted lenses, he could see his magnificent snake eyes, and even hidden in the safety they provided, he could see that he wouldn’t look him in the eyes. He was staring far off as if he wasn’t there.
Aziraphale had truly lost him.
Feeling as if there was nothing left to lose, which is probably just as Crowley felt when he kissed him, he reached his hand up and cupped the demon’s cheek.
But Crowley only hissed at the contact and turned away.
Tears threatened to fall, but Aziraphale retracted his hand, looking away in shame.
He wanted to do it, grab him by the shirt and kiss him as passionately as he did him, perhaps even more, just to spite him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to further betray his trust, and if things went south …
Well, Aziraphale decided, he wasn’t going to mope around and seethe about it like some other people he knew. With steely resolve, he got to his feet and stormed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Crowley called after him, following suit out of habit.
“Back to Heaven. I’m going to fix this.”
“How?? You can’t! Angel, please-“
Aziraphale cupped his cheek once more, and this time, Crowley didn’t lurch away. He stood there, stock still, his eyebrows pressed together in worry
The angel leaned forward and kissed him delicately, briefly, but enough to reassure him. He could feel Crowley begin to kiss him back, and that’s when he pulled away. A little tit for tat, he supposed, even though he had plenty more explaining to do than the demon ever had.
He smiled softly at him, before leaning to whisper in his ear, tugging meaningfully on his necktie.
“Don’t you dare sell any more of my goddamn books.”
And with that, he ‘beamed’ right back up to Heaven, leaving a bewildered Crowley standing alone in an empty bookshop.
“Cheeky bastard,” Crowley eventually said to himself in annoyance, but couldn’t help the small smirk that crept at the edge of his mouth. He was most definitely rubbing off on him.
He looked towards the ceiling, foolishly, as if he could see his angel from way down here. Absentmindedly, he touched his fingers to his lips, replaying the feeling over and over again in his mind, to finally be touched by the only being in the world that ever truly mattered …
He wanted to run after him, help him, save him like he so often did, but something in him told him that Aziraphale had to clean up his own mess for once. Still, he decided to keep his wits about him, should things go awry.
“Hurry back,” he muttered, and with those words, he could feel tears threatening to fall, and he whipped his glasses off, brushing them away in annoyance.
Muriel arrived not long after with a cup of tea for Crowley, and a spiced latte for herself. She beamed as she entered, innocent as she was, but she did not comment on Aziraphale’s unexpected visit.
Instead, she just handed Crowley his tea and went back to work sorting the books that Gabriel had so horribly gotten out of order, bless him.
Crowley wanted to busy himself but he couldn’t. He kept replaying the kiss in his mind, his own desperate attempt to get him to stay when he grabbed the lapels of his angel’s shirt and yanked him roughly to his lips … and Aziraphale’s kiss, feathery soft, briefest of kisses, which left him wanting more and yet …
He still hated him so much. Aziraphale chose Heaven over him. He wanted Crowley to change. Being a demon wasn’t good enough. He wanted to fix what he deemed broken.
But Crowley was never as broken before as he was now, after what his angel did to him …
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out, expecting to get an irritated text from Nina until he remembered he’d made up that little lie about having been set up on a date.
It was from Aziraphale. Heaven must have excellent service, he thought in bemusement.
His stomach dropped when he read the text, and he dropped his phone, running out to the elevator.
‘Please forgive me. Heaven lied.’