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The opening chords of Meat Loaf’s Paradise By Dashboard Light blared over the speakers of the Bentley as Crowley merged onto the M25.
Bit of an odd choice, Crowley thought, but at least she’s showing a little variety.
That had been something else that had changed after Aziraphale left. Occasionally, the Bentley would play something other than The Best of Queen. Typically it was something that reminded him of Aziraphale and spurred on another crying spell.
Not this time, though. Not that it mattered. Aziraphale himself sat in the passenger seat beside him, alternating between clasping his hands and messing with the hem of his waistcoat. He was, suffice to say, an anxious wreck, and if he ruined his precious waistcoat on top of everything else there would be no hope for what was in his backseat.
Crowley did not want to think about what was in the backseat.
“Aziraphale, you’re going to ruin your waistcoat, and I will not be fixing it.”
Aziraphale’s hands jumped and landed to rest in his lap. “Yes, quite right,” he said absentmindedly. Crowley did not need to look over to know that Aziraphale’s brow was furrowed in worry. In fact, Crowley knew that it was extremely likely that Aziraphale was currently biting the inside of his lip to starve off a full blown panic attack.
But that wasn’t his issue to solve. Crowley was doing enough by agreeing to drive him and the thing in the backseat to Tadfield. Aziraphale was an adult (in a sense), he could deal with his emotions on his own.
“Though it’s cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light.”
Crowley snuck a glance at the backseat in the rearview mirror. He had his doubts that paradise had anything to do with it. Well, in actuality “paradise” had everything to do with it, but Heaven was far from what humans hoped it was.
“Baby don'tcha hear my heart? You got it drowning out the radio. I've been waiting so long for you to come along and have some fun,” Meat Loaf sang. Crowley felt like he was somehow being mocked. He had hoped that Aziraphale would come back, but never imagined him showing up in the way that he had.
Aziraphale had shown up to the bookshop in a panic, clutching a bundled up baby and raving about the end of the world and how he needed Crowley’s help. Crowley miracled himself sober and begrudgingly agreed. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Well, he did, but who knows what would happen if he left Aziraphale to his own devices in this state.
“...I got a big surprise, it’ll feel alright. Well I wanna make your motor run.”
Well, the Bentley wasn’t entirely wrong on that. He was swerving in and out of traffic at speeds that would definitely get him arrested if he didn’t have demonic powers. Not to mention that his heart was just about beating out of his chest.
The baby was safely belted into his backseat, the Bentley manifested a car seat especially for it. Crowley gritted his teeth. That thing was a ticking time bomb.
Honestly, he should have expected this from Aziraphale. Crowley himself had deemed him ‘just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.’ Only figures that he’d decide to up and steal the baby that was meant to bring on the end of the world.
Crowley sharply turned off of the M25 right as Meat Loaf instructed them all to, “C’mon, hold on tight!” Aziraphale promptly gripped the dash and shot Crowley a warning look.
“Slow down, there is a baby in the car,” he admonished sharply.
“Not my baby, not my issue,” Crowley replied, lifting his hands off the steering wheel to prove his point.
“Well,” Aziraphale huffed, “you could at least turn a bit more gently, you don’t want the poor thing to get hurt for—”
“Are you really about to say ‘For heaven’s sake?’ Because I’m sure that Heaven will be perfectly fine when they find out their little war-starter has been stolen, what do you think?” Crowley interrupted.
Aziraphale's jaw clenched and he didn’t respond. A rotten surge of pride swelled up in Crowley’s chest.
They drove on in awkward silence. Meat Loaf continued to sing until it abruptly cut to what sounded like a baseball game.
Crowley felt his stomach drop. It wasn’t a baseball game, it was part of the song. And if he remembered how this song went correctly, things were about to get a whole lot more awkward.
He slammed his finger on the off button, again and again, but nothing happened. The fake baseball announcements kept blaring on, as if they were mocking him.
He cringed in defeat when the background noises he had been dreading inevitably started. He wanted to miracle himself out of the car, apologize for the Bentley's behavior, anything, but he couldn't bring himself to look over at Aziraphale and say anything.
"My dear, there's no reason to act so scandalized. I do read books, you know," Aziraphale said, solving Crowley's dilemma for him.
Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that, so he shrunk even further into his seat.
“Stop right there!” Ellen Foley suddenly yelled over the speakers, making both of them jump slightly. “I gotta know right now,” she continued on, ignoring them both.
Crowley glared at the Bentley. “Shut it off. Now.”
But she ignored him. Ellen Foley continued to berate Meat Loaf in song form about before we go anything further, do you love me, and do you love me forever, do you need me, and worst yet, will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Aziraphale had gone a similar shade of red as Crowley’s hair. The air grew stiff as Crowley frantically jammed the off button.
This time, it worked, shutting off with an unassuming click and the start of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 in G major softly started playing through the speakers.
Crowley gripped the steering wheel as if it was a life preserver and he was on his last breaths. It certainly felt like it. Beside him Aziraphale was so still Crowley suspected that he wasn’t breathing. Not that they needed to of course, but it had eventually become a habit after a few centuries around humans. It took a lot for either of them to forget how to do that basic function.
Then all of the sudden, Aziraphale crumpled in on himself, as if someone had knocked all the air out of him.
“Not that this is the time to do so, but there’s a lot for us to talk about, isn’t there?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley’s heart beat faster, but he loosened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Er. Yup, I would say there is.”