Chapter Text
Golden eyes hidden behind sunglasses watched as the angel walked down the street. two angels to be precise, but Crowley's attention was decidedly fixated on the sweet, soft, slightly foolish, but oh so beautiful bookseller (well, former bookseller) who had rather agonisingly rejected him just minutes earlier.
The two angels were speaking about something as they walked, but Crowley couldn't hear them over the traffic, people, and the rhythmic, fearful pounding of his heart inside his chest. it felt like the muscle was slamming itself into his ribs, trying to shatter them, escape their bony grip and go to the angel. and in all honestly Crowley was ready to let it.
Aziraphale's words played on repeat in Crowley's head: "come with me, to heaven" "i need you" "i forgive you", it was like a broken record specifically created to antagonize him. in that moment, he would have preferred Mozart.
Aziraphale smiled softly as he spoke to the Metatron. albeit a small smile with a flash of anxiety hidden behind it, but a smile nonetheless, a smile that made the demons chest tighten at the very thought the angel was happy in that moment... happy to leave... happy to leave Crowley. Crowley clenched his jaw and pushed the thoughts from his mind, replacing them with the stubborn optimism that surely that couldn't be the case, that no, the angel had insistently expressed how much he wanted the demon to come with him, surely if he were to leave, to leave Crowley, he would desperately regret it...right?
As Crowley watched the two reach the doorway set into the wall of 'the dirty donkey', a sudden wave of anxiety crashed over him, flooding his mind completely.
He was about to lose Aziraphale.
it wasn't some monumental realisation he had just come to, the opposite actually, it was something Crowley had been rather painfully aware of for the past 10 or so minutes, and something that had been a nagging, dreaded, thought in the back of his mind for six thousand years, but only now as he watched the angel stood at the blindingly white doorway, was Crowley hit with the weight of the idea
He would lose the only real friend he had ever had, the only consistent companion throughout his time on earth, the only being he had ever truly cared about, evert trusted, ever... loved.
A moment after the heavy thought lodged itself into Crowley's mind, he saw the angel pause, and ever so slightly turn to him. the faintest trace of trepidation was laid over Aziraphale's features, and he shot Crowley a final pleading glance, before setting his jaw and turning to face the Metatron
Without a single thought, snakeskin boots deftly carried the demon across the road, lead by a single, questionless thought:
He couldn't lose Aziraphale.
No matter what.
As Aziraphale made to step into the elevator, a hand firmly grasped his arm, stopping the angel in his tracks. before he could even turn to face the owner of the hand, their voice piped up from behind him, sounding rather strained, desperate and defeated.
"ill go..."
Aziraphale's wide eyes met Crowley's, even though he could barely see them behind his round sunglasses, and a faint smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth.
"oh, Crowley..." Aziraphale blissfully sighed, beaming up at the demon in front him, before he launched himself onto the demon, enveloping him in a tight, adoring hug as he buried his face into the demons shoulder
For a moment, for just one blissful moment Crowley forgot every anxiety, pain and strife, and merely let himself enjoy the feeling of the angels arms around him.
Snaking his arms around the angel in return, Crowley held him close and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath then sighing just as deeply, his nostrils filled with Aziraphale's familiar scent of fresh baked pastry, almond, vanilla, and the oddly pleasant note of ancient, dusty paper.
Aziraphale pulled away from the hug, far too soon for Crowley's liking, and took the demons hands in his own. gently running his thumbs over the backs of Crowley's hands, he smiled up at him gently as he, without hesitation, uttered the 3 words Crowley so desperately wanted to hear:
"I love you"
Needless to say, Crowley returned the remark, albeit he said it with a tad more of a 'i've been in love with you for thousands of years, you have no idea how much weight my words carry' tone, along with a soft kiss that seemed to both last forever, and barely a moment at all.
As they broke apart, Aziraphale raised a hand to place it on the demons cheek, who in turn laid his own hand on top of it, letting his eyes half-close as he sighed.
Crowley's gazed drifted over Aziraphale's shoulder, into the elevator, onto the Metatron, who was glaring at Crowley with so much loathing it was almost palpable.
Crowley returned the glare.
before he knew it, Crowley was inside the elevator, watching the doors gracefully slide closed, barely hearing the Metatron's rather passive aggressive remark of "well isn't this a lovely surprise", beside Aziraphale, who was holding his hand tightly as though if he let go, he would suddenly discorporate into nothingness, never to be found again.
The moment the doors closed, the elevator began to move, rising slowly, clean white light bleeding into the little compartment in waves and as it did, Crowley began to notice a peculiar sensation:
it was a feeling of both intense pins and needles. and the coinciding warmth and icy cool of the winter sun on his skin. He grit his teeth in an effort to not show his discomfort on his face, for some reason, he felt he couldn't let Aziraphale know what was happening right beside him.
The terrible, unnerving feeling began at his head and slowly travelled all the way down to his feet, leaving him feeling...strange, wrong, unfamiliar yet...familiar...
he suddenly became aware that he could see far better than he had in the past six thousand years, the smoky film he had become so accustomed to was simply...gone
Crowley raised a hand to his face, feeling for the familiar shape of his sunglasses, only finding his own skin beneath his fingers.
No sunglasses.
A slight frown formed on Crowley's face, he felt exposed, lacking a shield he had hidden behind for so many years, it was such a horribly new feeling, Crowley found himself fighting the urge to hide himself away somewhere. not that that there was anywhere to hide in the the elevator anyway.
Crowley tentatively looked down at his hand, immediately noting the pristine white sleeve now wrapped around his wrist and golden nail polish adorning his fingernails, looking over himself further he found that, simultaneously, nothing had changed, and everything had. turtleneck shirt, leather vest, suit jacket, snakeskin boots, it was all there, yet it was all dyed an almost offensively pristine, clean white except for his chainmail bolo tie and buttons, which were now a bright sparkling gold.
He cringed at the sight.
A soft gasp came from beside him, and his expression of distain faded away as he turned to Aziraphale, who was gazing up at him adoringly with wide eyes. the angel opened his mouth, he looked as if he was about to say something, reaching out a hand slightly as if to place a hand on Crowley's cheek, he paused, seemingly doubting his actions and quickly changing his mind, lowering his hand and closing his mouth, instead settling for a soft, warm smile, and to lean his head against the former demons shoulder.
A soft, shaky exhale came from the former demon, who was now pointedly staring at the elevator wall, unsure of what he was feeling in that moment. In fact he was even unsure what he should be feeling.
This was the right choice. He finally had his angel, his angel who was currently clinging to his arm as the elevator steadily rose, and even though heaven was...well, toxic, corrupt, broken, perhaps Aziraphale was right.
maybe they could change things, fix things, make it better, make it all better.
Crowley pushed these thoughts to the front of his mind, clinging to optimism even though it was so desperately hard, choosing to ignore his knowledge of Gabriel's trail, his knowledge of what happens when you try to change things, knowledge that Aziraphale... didn't have.
The elevator came to a stop, the doors beginning to smoothy slide open and reveal the vast white expanse of columns and wide hallways of heaven. the Metatron silently walked out ahead of them, taking a few steps before pausing and waiting for the two angels to follow.
Aziraphale barely hesitated before he took a step forward, gently pulling Crowley along behind him, who paused at the threshold of the elevator.
With a wave, pearly rimmed sunglasses, with blindingly reflective gold lenses appeared on Crowley's face, re-establishing the flimsy shield he was so used to living behind.
He stepped out of the elevator.