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Aziraphale had left him. His angel had chosen Heaven, despite everything they had been through together - especially in the last five years.. Crowley thought they had finally established their own side - established them. But he was wrong. So painfully wrong. Aziraphale didn’t choose him, for the first time in 6000 years and it stung.
Worse than stung. He tore Crowley apart from the inside out, tearing away at his organs and filtering through his veins until it threatened to pool over and consume him. The demon could hardly breathe. His lungs felt as though they were giving out with each step he took away from the book shop, away from the angel. He was burning up at a rapid pace; his temperature even threatened to rival all of Hell’s flames combined.
Crowley couldn’t look back as he walked down the street of Soho. The door slammed behind him and signalled the ending of what was his first and only love. For it to be ripped from under him the moment he had finally gained enough courage to confess to Aziraphale.. It wasn’t fair. Curse him, curse Heaven and Hell and curse the Almighty for undoubtedly planning all of this pony show.
Crowley reunited with his Bentley, seemingly now his only one and true companion, and leant against it to catch his stifled breath. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. They were supposed to have an honest conversation, confess to one another their true feelings, then dine together at The Ritz and converse over champagne and sandwiches and cakes.
Instead, he stood alone. Abandoned and embarrassed. Losing not only his best friend, but his partner.. What a cruel existence it was. Just as he was wallowing on the pavement, his ears perked towards the sound of the bookshop door opening and revealing the angel in question. Aziraphale didn’t look at him. He didn’t even cast a glance his way, or a begrudging side eye - how petty could he be?
No, that wasn’t fair.. Crowley knew the state he left the angel in, how distraught he looked with his eyes welled with tears and body trembling like anything. He wasn’t petty: he was forlorn. No wonder he couldn’t meet Crowley’s gaze from across the road - it would only bring further heartache between the pair.
And so Crowley watched Aziraphale walk away from him. He glared when he saw The Metatron join him on his journey and appear quite chummy with him at his side. Jealousy was not a trait Crowley experienced often, but this situation had him seething at the neck in agonising envy.
The Metatron didn’t care for Aziraphale, none of them did. They only wanted to use his kind nature and bend it to their will to bring forth some kind of second Armageddon. And Aziraphale had fell for it! Trusted them to listen, to accept him and his ideas with open arms. All wrapped up and sold with the new title as the ‘Supreme Archangel’.
It made him sick.
As much as he wanted to enter his Bentley and forcefully drive passed the two in a sign of pure disobedience, he didn’t. All he was able to do was watch and feed the growing pit in his stomach til it reached a boiling point.
The elevator to Heaven manifested before his eyes where the doorway the to pub used to be - the pub he and Aziraphale had visited only a few days ago.. He remembers being so excited to be visiting there for the first time, after all they never went - always a café or a coffee shop or..
The Ritz.
The new ‘duo’ entered the elevator side by side and Crowley sneered with an emptiness now overwhelming his prior anger and pain. He was becoming numb, his nerves and blood running cold as the realisation was dawning on him.
As the doors closed, it was finally done. Crowley pulled the door to his car open and climbed inside with a stillness he wasn’t accustom to. He expected his body to forcefully yank the handle and clammer in, abusing any object in his path in a fit of pure rage and animosity - but no.. He was devoid.
Crowley sat. And stared. And stared..
Where was he even going to go? He already had no flat, now no bookshop, no home, no side.. No Aziraphale.
So he sat. Alone. For the first time in his existence.
Until..
Bang, bang!
The left window was being aggressively beaten on by a pale knuckle. Crowley growled, his woes being rudely interrupted by this moron who couldn’t read the room - well, read the car in this case. The demon slowly rolled his head to the offending being with a face of pure glumness and hostility, until he realised..
“Crowley, please unlock the car!” The angel exclaimed, pounding on the glass with the most wobbly knock he could possess. His eyes were red and puffy, chest heaving and shoulders shaking as he desperately knocked and knocked.
Ha, Crowley was now imagining things. He knew his imagination was good, but this was uncanny. His memories of Aziraphale must be so clear cut that he could picture him there in all his emotional glory.
Crowley could only stare. He so desperately wanted it to be true, to be real, but the angel should already be in Heaven by now - he saw him leave in that cursed elevator a few minutes ago. But then..
“Car, please unlock this door.” Imaginary Aziraphale kindly requested through his sniffles and the Bentley happily obliged with the familiar click of the locks opening. The door then swung open and in climbed the homely hue of beige and blue.
Wait.. was this actually happening?
“I-I.. I’m so— oh..” Aziraphale was a blubbering mess. He could barley get his words out as his voice wavered on every single syllable. He chose to cut himself off to attempt catching his breath, but he was still heaving and twitching with anxiety.
The angel even began counting his breaths, in for four.. out for four. Adorable. No, it wasn’t! It wasn’t real, Crowley!
Once the imposter angel had eased
a few notions, he tried to speak again. He fiercely turned to the demon with a new found determination, and began his speech once more.
“I am so.. incredibly.. s-sorry, Crowley.. I have been—!” A gasp. “I have been the b-biggest.. idiot in the world.” Well, that was true.
“A-And.. I-I don’t know what I was thinking! It was stupid! Completely and u-utterly ridiculous—!” And then he broke into sobs, hands rushing to catch and hide his face and cry into the palms.
How real it was.. His brain had nailed Aziraphale’s reaction to returning so well, so well in fact that Crowley even smiled. Maybe he could indulge, just for a moment.
Aziraphale peeled his face away from his grasp to look at Crowley again, face now wet with smeared tears. He stilled.
“W..Why are you s-smiling?”
Crowley finally spoke, “I’m indulging.”
Aziraphale’s brows rose in utter confusion, head tilting to the side as he peered through the demon’s glasses.
“I-Indulging? In.. in my apology?”
“Mm.. Didn’t think my imagination could capture you so well. Might as well savour it.” Crowley shrugged to his imagination, nonchalant at the whole ordeal. He wasn’t even drunk..yet.
Aziraphale then furrowed his brows when he realised what was happening.
“Crowley.. I am not your imagination! It’s me! I left as soon as I got up there!”
Oh.
OH!
Crowley furrowed his own brows then, his lips pouting and shoulders tensing. Was it entirely possible that Aziraphale had actually regretted his decision, left Heaven, came back to earth, to him, and was now apologising in his Bentley..?
Apparently it was.
“Look-!” In an attempt to prove he was in fact Aziraphale, the angel launched forward and clasped his hand in Crowley’s to affirm his existence. Skin met skin, warmth meeting warmth, Crowley and Aziraphale were together once more.
Crowley choked. A disastrous sound to his own ears. All the unshed tears had finally pooled over and flooded his eyes and lenses, rolling down his cheeks in immense waves as his lips wobbled and nose sniffed. Hell, he was sobbing!
“C-Crow—!”
“Shut up!” He wailed, clutching Aziraphale’s soft palm for support and reassurance as he allowed himself to cry in front of the angel for the first time. He couldn’t contain it anymore, couldn’t bare to hold himself together for another second as utter relief washed over and consumed him.
Instead of scrutinising him, Aziraphale joined Crowley in his embarrassing cries. Sobbing along with him and holding him just as tightly as they cried together in their Bentley.
And that’s how they stayed for a good few minutes, crying separately and in tow in alternating shifts. They both tried to calm themselves and each other, but every time there was a prolonged moment of ceased sniffling, one would set off again and repeat the whole ordeal again.
To aid in ending this ongoing crisis, the Bentley roared the engine to gain their attention and bring them back to the present - which surprisingly worked for the pair. They both snapped their gazes away from one another and turned towards the car and were finally broken from their emotional trance.
Crowley feared that the angel would break apart their entwined hands, stealing all of his warmth away with a withdraw of his palm. But he didn’t. He only lowered their hands to rest between their seats and settle on the cool leather. Crowley was grateful.
The couple sighed long and hard, exhaling all oxygen from their lungs and returning their breathing to normal at long last. Crowley leant his head back against the headrest and relaxed his jaw, gently closing his stinging eyes to ease the burning.
Aziraphale watched him. Intently staring in anticipation for any sort of communication or response from the demon. Now that he knew he was real, they would have to decide how to move forward from his betrayal - if Crowley even wanted to move forward with him at all..
“So.. you really came back?” Crowley all but whispered, his pose unchanged. Aziraphale’s breath hitched at hearing his voice again, now hoarse and sore as opposed to his usually smooth and gravelly tone.
“Y-Yes.. I came back.”
Crowley could regret this.
“..For me?” But he had to know.
There was a pause. An almighty pause.
“Yes.. for you. For.. For us.”
Us. They. Them.
Crowley peeled his head to his left to face him once more, utilising all of his strength to do so. He stared at Aziraphale with a returning fondness, a spreading warmth dancing across his chest and welling him with joy - a joy he thought he would never get to experience ever again.
To further solidify the moment, he slowly rose his right arm and gently removed his smudged shades to truly see the angel sitting next to him. He noted the way Aziraphale twitched under the action in pure astonishment and glee.
Crowley smiled, a genuine one, and spoke with an earnest he only saved for his angel:
“Thank you.”