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Saying that Aziraphale knows that Heaven is toxic is wrong, as he has always noticed disapproving looks directed his way regardless of the reasons. He knew them all, or at least the most classic ones. His clothes were worn but so comfortable that he couldn’t see himself getting rid of them like this. With his curves, which accentuated between each visit, human food was truly a delicacy that he couldn’t see himself doing without.
“I do not sully the temple of my celestial body with this,” Gabriel said once with a tone of contempt and maybe even a little pride.
Aziraphale had always known him like this, with unconstructive and even hurtful remarks against him. He didn’t know if Gabriel was doing it on purpose or if he just didn’t realise that his words were hurtful. Aziraphale hoped that the second option was the truth; after all, angels live in Heaven and Heaven is good, so angels are too, by definition. Aziraphale was good; he was an angel after all, even if the last few years of not working for Heaven had made him more selfish, or had he always been but never really shown it?
Aziraphale didn’t know when his selfish little miracles or shenanigans had started. Crowley replied that he had always been like this, citing some examples of the misdeeds that he had carried out to save Crowley. There was nothing selfish about saving your… friend and wanting to keep their arrangement a secret, was there? Nothing selfish, just a deep desire to protect the person he was closest to, the person who knew him best, the person who knew how to play with his heartstrings to follow him on various adventures. All these moments were close to his heart, and for nothing in the world, he would have wanted to make any other choice than to follow Crowley.
Until Armageddon, at that moment, the choice was impossible: his duty or Crowley, he could still save the world; he had to try everything. He couldn’t abandon everything and flee with Crowley to Alpha Centauri. He would have given anything for that, but his duty was to protect humans from this war that was going to destroy them without their wanting to be part of it.
Humans had always had a choice, and at that moment, Heaven and Hell had decided that they would no longer have a choice. Aziraphale refused to believe it; the Antichrist had a choice, even if he was only an eleven-year-old boy. On the one hand, he remained human, and he had a choice. Aziraphale just hoped that the child made the right one but until then, he had to convince God that war was not necessary. It was not an easy feat, of course, but that was without taking into account Metatron’s indifference to Aziraphale’s request.
Once again, Heaven did not listen to him; he was left alone as his only ally, the demon who should have always been his enemy. Crowley is the only ally in this absurd war for power. Armageddon, which managed to fail thanks to both of them but also to Adam and his powers. Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley knew that things weren’t over for them, and Agnes’ last prediction had saved their skins. Because both trusted each other by putting their lives in the hands of the other to survive and be able to enjoy a peaceful and eternal life.
No one could scold Aziraphale about his hobbies, his weight, his looks, or his actions anymore. No more Heaven to dictate his behaviour; no more angels on his back to make sure he doesn’t mess with Crowley. No more Hell to reveal their arrangement and put Crowley in danger, even if by now both parties must be well aware that the angel and the demon form a duo from now on.
Just a simple life punctuated by unforeseen visits from Crowley to his bookshop, lunches at the Ritz, alcoholic evenings, and Aziraphale must admit, a little spying on his Whickber Street neighbours. The human being has always fascinated him since his conception, and it will fascinate him until the end of time.
“Spying again, angel?” Crowley snaps Aziraphale out of his thoughts; the angel looks up at his partner and smiles.
“Yes again.” Aziraphale gently emphasises the last word to draw a small laugh from Crowley.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Are you ready to go?” Crowley asks, even though they both know Aziraphale isn’t the type to prepare himself more for their outing.
“I’m ready, of course!” Aziraphale nods before getting up from his couch and observation post to join Crowley at the entrance of the shop. “Let’s go! I’m starving!”
Crowley chuckles softly, and they walk out of the store together towards the Bentley. Aziraphale may love observing the humans who work on this street, but he doesn’t know that he and Crowley are often spied on when they leave his shop. After all, for some, these two were married; for others, the bookseller had to rent the other sinfully sexy man. While in their eyes, they had not yet understood the deep nature of their feelings towards each other. After all this time on earth, they had become human in their own way.