Chapter Text
One action packed road trip and one world saved (again) later, Aziraphale and Crowley are finally back in London but things are very different than before. For one, Heaven and Hell are officially and forever off their backs. No more being technically traitors or ex-employees or anything, just a miraculous and permanent severing of their individual allegiances (without any real change to their state of being) and a promised immunity from any further meddling. It was a bit dizzying to think about, to be honest, so often Aziraphale would not, instead choosing to focus on the most exceptional, truly unbelievably wonderful thing that had happened along the way which was that Crowley had accepted his feelings (once Aziraphale had finally found his courage and told him) and returned them eagerly with words and kisses of his own. There may even have been a slight drizzle happening throughout the whole confession that was neatly blocked by a nearby apple tree, though to be honest, the details of everything besides how it felt to hold Crowley in his arms were a bit fuzzy.
They'd been home for about three days so far (and by home, Aziraphale meant holed up in his bookshop) and they'd gotten up to all manner of things that Aziraphale had barely ever even hoped to try together. He'd even, after a bit of convincing, attempted sleeping, which he'd found enjoyable enough, at least on a short term basis and as long as Crowley was curled tightly around him. This morning had started much the same way as any other had since their return; lots of kissing, breakfast, more kissing, talking about some inane subject for hours on end, kissing and so on. Aziraphale had been assuming that the terribly similar morning would roll on, transforming into a terribly similar afternoon when, to his surprise, a knock had come on the bookshop door while Crowley was in the back finding more wine. Aziraphale had nearly sent whoever it was away when he'd just heard, barely audible through the heavy wood and glass, the declaration that they were, in fact, from the International Express Delivery Service and had a package for a Mr. Fell that required a signature if at all possible.
Aziraphale had sprung up, hurrying to catch the delivery person before they slipped away with a book that he'd ordered nearly two years ago now that had somehow, between the pandemic and a surprising chain of postal mix-ups, miraculously gotten waylaid just long enough to arrive at the bookshop very close to his own permanent return to it. Funny old world and all that. To be honest, until that very moment, Aziraphale had basically forgotten all about it but the instant he opened the package, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The cover, a beautiful, polished crimson leather and it's contents, pages and pages of detailed facts about snakes paired with equally detailed gouache paintings of them were collectively even more stunning than they had seemed in the auction catalog all those years ago. He'd opened the book reverentially to the beginning and, without looking up, drifted his way carefully through the familiar obstacles of his bookshop and over to his couch. This was going to take some seeing to, he was certain.
****
Aziraphale looks up some time later from a particularly stunning illustration of a Red Bellied Black Snake to see Crowley pacing around the bookshop aimlessly. He tilts his head. "Is there something going on? Perhaps something you need to do, my dear?"
Crowley's gaze snaps up to meet Aziraphale's as he stops pacing. "Right, I'll just- get out of your hair then?" Crowley puts his sunglasses on and starts to head towards the door.
Aziraphale feels a sudden rush of panic. Something seems off. "Crowley, wait!"
Crowley stops dead in his tracks and turns back to him. "What?"
"I-" He waves a hand in little circles. "I don't understand what's happening. Do you have something else you need to do or not?"
Crowley grimaces. "Technically... no."
Aziraphale sighs. "Then why are you leaving?"
"Well," Crowley shrugs, "you're busy-"
"Ahhhhh of course!" Aziraphale nods and smiles. Now he understands everything. How long had it been since he'd even looked up from his book? A half an hour, maybe an hour even? He hadn't meant to get so absorbed really. Crowley must be going mad. He wonders why he hadn't just wandered off all on his own. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to leave without saying anything but he also hadn't wanted to interrupt Aziraphale? Crowley always has been terribly considerate of him. "Well," he smiles, "Just make sure to take the keys when you go then?"
Crowley's mouth flattens. "Right," he nods stiffly, his tone brittle. "Wouldn't want to be in the way." He heads for the door faster this time.
Before he even quite knows what he's doing, Aziraphale's snaped and the door becomes temporarily uncooperative. Crowley gives the handle a little tug and then sighs.
Aziraphale's stomach sinks. He's a fool. It's suddenly quite clear that he'd been nearly completely wrong with his previous theory. Luckily for him, he's starting to see the shape of it now. There must be a second conversation happening, one he can't perceive, that's causing Crowley to be this distressed. He sighs and squeezes his eyes closed. "Crowley, I don't know what I said but please just talk to me. I can tell you're quite upset."
Crowley jiggles the door knob one more time and then turns around. Even in the sunglasses, he won't meet Aziraphale's eyes. "It's just, I've been here what? Three days? And you started reading and I figured, ya know, that was my sign to go. I mean, you're bound to get sick of me sometime. I'm just trying to, mmm, keep ahead of it. Stay out of your way."
Aziraphale's chest aches at that and he frowns. "Crowley, I love you-"
"Right," Crowley snaps, "and we wouldn't want you to change your mind about that now, would we?"
Aziraphale feels like he's been punched in the stomach. He closes his book completely and sets it on the arm of the couch. "Alright, that's enough of that. Come over here right this instant." His face is stone and his tone brokers no argument.
Crowley squirms as if fighting himself and then goes limp. "Fine, since you haven't given me much of a choice." He saunters over, his feet dragging a little. "Here?" he says, standing in front of Aziraphale, his tone a bit mocking though which of them he's making fun of isn't clear. (Probably himself)
Aziraphale shakes his head and pats the couch next to him. "Here please."
Crowley visibly rolls his eyes, even in the sunglasses, and then plops down, a wild sprawl of limbs, "And wh-"
Aziraphale reaches across and grabs Crowley by the far shoulder, pulling him rather effortlessly down so that his head is now resting in Aziraphale's lap. Crowley's jaw falls slack and his cheeks darken just slightly.
Aziraphale immediately tangles a hand in Crowley's hair and lets out a contented sigh. Ever since they'd gotten together and he'd started getting to touch Crowley whenever he wanted, doing this has always made his heart skip a beat. Somehow it's even more lovely than he'd always thought it would be. He hopes that someday he'll get to feel it at all of the wonderful lengths he'd missed out on touching over the years. "I love doing this." Aziraphale beams down at Crowley as he continues to run his fingers through his hair. "Do you like it as well?"
Crowley stutters for a moment before finally getting out, "Mmmmm yeah. Course I do." He smiles a little shyly and looks away. "But what does that have to do with…. ya know, anything?"
Aziraphale sighs and meets Crowley's eyes as best he can with the sunglasses. "I need you to understand something: I don't really ever want you to go away. Like of course we'll do separate errands sometimes or you'll get bored and go for a drive or I'll go to a book sale and you won't want to come. Or perhaps you and Muriel and the girls will go to some loud concert and I'll stay home. And that's normal and fine. I'll even be happy you're having a good time without me. But I am never going to be gladdened by just your absence, you understand? I'm always happiest when you're here with me."
Crowley swallows. "You can't mean that-"
"Do I sound like I'm joking?"
"Well, no but-"
"I have spent enough time playing coy and pushing you away and I'm sick of it. But, that said," Aziraphale frowns, "you are going to have to talk to me or I might end up doing it entirely by accident. I am, unfortunately, not a mind reader."
"Honestly, that's for the best," Crowley says under his breath. "Don't know what I'd do if you'd been reading my mind all these years and just never told me. Discorporate out of sheer embarrassment probably."
Aziraphale rolls his eyes just slightly.
"Right, sorry, what do you want to know again? It's just the," he gestures at his own head, "fingers are a bit… distracting-"
"I can stop-" Aziraphale teases, ceasing his gentle touches for just a moment.
"Don't you dare!" Crowley's hand reaches up as if to pull Aziraphale's hand back.
"Fine," he smiles and resumes his caresses. "I wanted you to clarify why you were so upset. Did I do something?"
"Nnnn nah," Crowley shrugs. "I mean, already said it, didn't I? You were reading and I didn't want to be in the way."
"And that's it? Nothing else?"
"I mean," Crowley grits his teeth and then frowns. He looks like he wants to run away again. "In the past," he says, voice small, "you really were asking me to go… when you'd do that, weren't you?"
Aziraphale frowns. Of course he's right. Aziraphale is aware that he'd often pushed Crowley away over the years (even if many of those times had been to protect him). That's why he'd tried to be crystal clear on how he feels about Crowley being around now. He just really hadn't thought about how confusing this new state of their relationship could possibly be feeling from Crowley's side. Aziraphale has told him he loves him, many times by now, and showed him that he loves him many more times as well. But there are still years and years of rules and habits learned through their long association that are complete rubbish now, harmful even. It's going to take awhile to sort them all out.
Aziraphale nods. "Right, I see. That is why I started by saying what I did. But perhaps… what if I promise that, should an occasion ever arise where I do need you to temporarily leave the bookshop for some reason or another, I will simply tell you about it directly. No more you needing to read between the lines?"
Crowley quirks an eyebrow, his voice hesitant. "You think you can do that?"
"I can very well try," he sits up a little straighter.
"Alright, so from now on, I just what? Have an open invitation to the bookshop and you just want me… milling around whenever I want to be, yeah?"
"That is the idea, yes."
"Well, alright then." Crowley looks stunned. "I'll… do that then." They sit there in quiet bliss for a moment, the beginnings of a smile starting to pull at Crowley's lips, before he suddenly furrows his brow and adds, "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but uhhhh, you never did quite explain why we're sitting like this really?"
Aziraphale startles. "Oh yes! Sorry about that. My idea, if you'd be amenable, is that we could sit like this while I read. I thought it sounded… nice." Aziraphale smiles shyly.
Crowley opens and closes his mouth a few times before he says, "Mmmm yeah, that could work."
"Oh good," Aziraphale beams down at Crowley.
The corners of Crowley's mouth turn up just slightly.
"You don't think you'll find it too boring?"
Crowley takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into his jacket pocket. His small smile gets a bit larger. "I think it'll take me a while to get sick of this, Angel." He grabs Aziraphale's hand and kisses it gently before setting it back in his hair and closing his eyes. "Now, don't let me keep you from the wonderful world of ophiology. I think there may be one that's a bit of a dead ringer for me somewhere around the halfway mark if memory serves."
Aziraphale smiles and chuckles slightly. Then, sighing contentedly, he figures out how to reopen his book, now one handed, and settles in for a nice long read, certain that there is no better way to spend a Thursday afternoon in the entire world.