Archive of Our Own

–  Until death do us a part

– Oi, what a stupid phrase! – Crowley exclaimed while watching some romantic drama film. – Not only death can do you a part, sometimes it can be just one stupid angel who still believes that he can change Heaven.

He took another sip of whiskey from the bottle.

Since Crowley get his flat back, he has been sleeping most of the time. And when he wasn't sleeping, he was drinking. Honestly, he's been having extremely alcoholic breakfasts quite often. It's worth noting that he's also been having extremely alcoholic lunches and dinners as well. And what else should he been doing? Muriel was running a bookshop quite well; Crowley only sometimes call them to check if they sold any books. Nina and Maggie are working on their relationship and Crowley is really happy for them, honestly, because at least their advice worked for themselves. Yeah...that advice. You know, that wasn't the worst advice Crowley ever get. No, it was quite good actually. But who could know that Aziraphale would react this way to Crowley's words, which he had kept to himself for 6,000 years. Nobody knew, but Crowley should have been guessing. No, really, it was reckless to confess his love like that, and even hope for reciprocity. But now Crowley can be calm and he doesn't have to wonder how Aziraphale feels. Everything is clear enough. It's over.

Nothing lasts forever.

That's how the angel feels.

So, without Aziraphale, Crowley doesn't have much things to do. He decided that he should watch some movies, drink alcohol and sleep, just have rest for a couple of days.

But it's been three months since Aziraphale left and Crowley wasn't feeling any better. During this time, he never left the apartment.

And now he was sitting on the sofa in his flat in Mayfair, watching some romantic films, drinking alcohol and...and what? Pining over his ex-non-ex angel boyfriend?

– I will never forgive him. – Crowley said. – Not even in a million of years. Not only that, after everything that's happened between us, after everything we've been through, he still wants to change Heaven. He also thinks that I want to be an angel. Me?! An angel?! I'm evil in the flesh, a demon that terrifies anyone, I am the terror that flaps in the night, I... –  Crowley exclaimed – I just need to pull myself together. – he added and leaned his head back on the sofa. For a few minutes, he just stared at the ceiling and recalled all the happy moments he and Aziraphale had experienced.

And then the wind hit the open windows and blew all the papers off the windowsill. (yes, Crowley liked to sit with the windows open, and those papers were nothing but the trash that Shax had left behind, and Crowley had never bothered to throw it out). There were all sorts of documents, reports of work done on earth, lists of temptations and victims, and other junk. But Crowley's attention was drawn to a small square piece of paper that flew away from the rest and landed smoothly on the floor. Crowley furrowed his brow, stood up and went to the window, bent down, picked up the piece of paper, and his eyebrows went up.

It was that polaroid from 1941, from the magic show at West End. But Crowley knows that there is only one copy of this photo and it doesn't belong to him. Did Shax really have a copy of this photo? Crowley thought. Or did she steal it from ang… Aziraphale. Wait, no, that wasn't that exact polaroid. Yes, it was a polaroid from 1941. But the pose of Aziraphale and Crowley was a little different. Is this another photograph of that moment in 1941?

Crowley didn't know, but seeing that photo brought back memories from 1941 and West End. How he'd saved Aziraphale's books, how they'd pulled off that trick with the gun, how they'd spent the evening drinking wine and talking about black and white and gray, good and evil and everything in between. The corner of Crowley's lips twitched as if in a smile, but then he frowned, squeezed the photograph, and said:

– Fuck it, it's time to get a grip and...

And Aziraphale woke up.

He was in his white empty room in Heaven. He even can't call this room "his own" because nothing there belongs to him and nothing there makes himself feel at least like home. No, his home is in his bookshop. On Earth.

No.

His home is his bookshop with his demon by his side. Without Crowley he hasn't home.

Speaking about Crowley, that's quite odd that Aziraphale has been having these dreams about him, not saying that it was odd that he's having dreams at all. Angels don't need sleep and they don't have dreams, but Aziraphale does. He was so used to life on Earth that sometimes, if he was really very tired, he could afford to take a nap. And in Heaven he was very tired. All this paperwork, all these documents and signatures, meetings and requests, people's prayers – it was all very tedious and it was not for him at all. But dreams. Dreams are something new. Aziraphale had never dreamed, and then, after three months of his work in Heaven, he suddenly began to have dreams. And not just dreams, but dreams about Crowley. Perhaps this is some kind of malfunction in my angelic mind and brain, Aziraphale thought. Who are you kidding, the malfunction in your angelic mind and brain has yellow eyes and red hair. But one dream doesn't mean anything, Aziraphale tried to convince himself.

He hadn't succeeded.

This dream about Crowley now occupied all his thoughts. Not that he had thought of anyone else before.

The next morning Aziraphale had another meeting with the archangels. At these meetings, he rarely listened to what the others had to say. No one ever noticed him, no one approached him with questions or requests. Attendance at these meetings was pure formality and he was well aware of that. Even then, three months ago, when he was going up in the elevator to Heaven, he knew that he couldn't change Heaven, couldn't change it without Crowley. But he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he hadn't tried. And with each day he spent in Heaven he realized that he couldn't change anything. And that helplessness weighed him down. It was hard to see how Heaven worked and not be able to change it. Each day Aziraphale missed Crowley more and more, their work together, their evenings together. And this sudden dream didn't help him at all. On the contrary, it had opened a wound that had never healed, awakened memories that had been slumbering uneasily in the back of his mind. He knew that his endurance would soon come to an end.

Busy with thoughts of Crowley, Aziraphale had completely forgotten that this meeting was not the usual gathering of archangels he had attended before. The topic of this meeting was extremely important to Aziraphale, for they were going to talk about the second coming. The day before, Aziraphale had received a reminder on his celestial phone that there would be an important meeting today, but Aziraphale hardly used the gadget. He didn't understand why he needed a phone, didn't really want to know how to use it, and missed his old phone at the bookstore.

Because of this, Aziraphale missed the meeting notice and, as usual, came to the conference room, sat away from everyone, and immersed himself in his thoughts. This dream, which could partly be called a nightmare, was still on his mind. Suddenly, he heard Metatron calling his name. When he woke up from his thoughts, he saw that everyone in the room was looking at him.

– Yes, your holiness? – Aziraphale asked.

– Do you agree with what I said?

Aziraphale hesitated for a second but said:

– Yes, absolutely agree – answered Aziraphale before he thought, what he's just said.

– Good, – said Metatron, – then the Second Coming will take place in three weeks. Thank you all for coming, our meeting is over.

Aziraphale was taken aback by such a statement.

– But your holiness, didn't you say it would be only in two years?

– Aziraphale, were you listening to me now or were you thinking about something or someone else?

The contempt in the Metatron's voice when he said 'someone else' did not please Aziraphale at all.

– Of course I was listening, I always listen to you carefully.

– Then don't ask stupid questions. The Second Coming will be in three weeks, there's nothing to discuss.

Everyone pretended to thank each other as usual and left the room.

Aziraphale sat there in shock. At that moment, Michael approached him.

– Don't even think that the fact that the Second Coming will be so soon is your merit. Your authorization is just a formality, we've already decided everything without you. Your voice means nothing here.

With these words Michael left.

After these words, Aziraphale was not the least bit relieved.

On the contrary, at that moment Aziraphale realized that his suspicions were confirmed. He realized that despite his best efforts he could not change the Heaven.

You can't change something that doesn't want to change.

Aziraphale headed to the room where he was staying and didn't leave it for the rest of the day. Not that he left it much on other days.

Aziraphale laid down on the bed and tried to distract himself from the plot of his dream, tried to sort through the huge pile of already accumulated documents he had to sign, but his thoughts returned again and again to Crowley from his dream.

Was Crowley really in that state? How had he gotten that polaroid, for Aziraphale had the only copy of that photograph. He slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket to make sure. Yes, the photo was still with him. Then where had Crowley gotten it from? It was just a dream, though; it had nothing to do with reality. Doesn't it?

Deep down, Aziraphale knew it wasn't just a dream.

Crowley was sitting on his sofa again, holding a crumpled polaroid 2.0 in his hands. He was looking at it with love, sorrow and anger. He has the right to be angry, don't you think? Well, he thought so though. It hurt him that after all he'd done, Aziraphale still preferred this nasty Heaven to him. Crowley wasn't angry with Aziraphale. Well, maybe just a little, just for his stupidity. Okay, maybe not a little.

How can someone as clever as you be so stupid.

But most of all he was angry at Heaven, for being the ones who did evil while covering it up with good, they were able to lure his angel to them. He was also frustrated that he didn't know what to do. He couldn't even get angry properly. Crowley didn't know what he should do. Usually he always knew what to do, especially when it came to saving one particular angel. But this time was different. Aziraphale doesn't need to be saved, he doesn't want to be saved. He's made his choice.

A mixture of annoyance and anger slowly boiled in Crowley's chest.

Nothing lasts forever.

Finally, his feelings got the better of him, and he picked up the whiskey bottle and threw it at the wall with all his might. The bottle shattered, its contents spilling out onto the carpet and the shards flying around. Given the force with which Crowley had thrown the bottle and the distance from the couch to the wall, it was not surprising that one of the shards bounced toward Crowley. What was surprising was that it was only one shard. However, it was enough to leave a cut on Crowley's arm. The cut wasn't very severe, but it was big enough to start bleeding.

– Oh fuck, – Crowley swore, but not out of pain, more out of annoyance. Another inconvenience, another wound, another cut, only no longer on his heart and soul, but on his body. Crowley got up from the couch, walked over to the liquor table, took a bottle of vodka, and poured its contents on the wound. He hissed in pain. After cleaning the wound, Crowley put the bottle back on the table. Yes, Crowley could easily heal this cut with one small miracle, but he wouldn't do it. Why should he? The cut doesn't bother him, the bleeding has almost stopped, and he wears a jacket all the time anyway, so the cut will be hidden from prying eyes, if there are any. (Yes, Crowley was about to leave the flat, finally). But he wasn't going to do anything about the cut. He wanted it to serve as a memory of that turning point when he decided he had to pull himself together and that he didn't need Aziraphale anymore.

– I don't need him, – Crowley hissed – I need to get changed and....

And Aziraphale woke up.

He sat up on the bed and looked around. Still the same room, still the same white walls, still the same emptiness. Aziraphale tried to figure out why he was dreaming about Crowley again, and it seemed to be a continuation of the previous dream. Either that, or in Aziraphale's dream Crowley just had not changed his location or clothing. Aziraphale didn't know, but something about these dreams disturbed him, something that made him uneasy and suggested that all of this was really happening to Crowley.

It was impossible to count the number of times Aziraphale wanted to go downstairs and visit Crowley, to explain himself to him, to apologize. Of course, the first thing Aziraphale wanted to do was apologize to Crowley, of course. But it would also be nice if Crowley would agree to help him prevent the Second Coming, Aziraphale could not do it alone. But he couldn't just come down from Heaven, at least not as the Supreme Archangel. It was mere cherubs who could descend to Earth whenever they wanted, while the actions of the Supreme Archangel were under the control of Metatron. And so, every time Aziraphale came up with some reason to come down to Earth, the Metatron would come up with an even better reason not to. Aziraphale wonders if that's how he controlled Gabriel too. Eventually Aziraphale grew tired of making excuses.

It was impossible to monitor any particular person from Heaven, only humanity as a whole. So no matter how much Aziraphale wanted to, he could not see how Crowley was doing and understand the nature of his dreams.

In Heaven there was no change of day and night, it was always light there, but there was a period when everyone rested from their duties and sat in their rooms. It was called the hour of rest and bliss. Aziraphale was no exception and it was during this period of time that he slept. And now was just the middle of this period when the Heavens let their guard down a little. Aziraphale realized this was the moment.

He got up from the bed, made it up, checked to make sure that the 1941 polaroid (the only material object he had taken with him to Heaven) was still there, and slipped quietly out into the corridor. Quietly walking to the elevator to Earth, he stepped inside and pressed the "E" button, which stood for Earth. He prepared to exhale, just then someone's foot stepped between the closing elevator doors. Aziraphale looked at the foot in horror, then his eyes rose to the face of its owner.

Michael.

– Where do you think you're going?

Aziraphale blanched.

– Uh, well, the Metatron asked me to check something on the Earth before he destroyed it, you know. Preparing for the Second Coming and all that.

– And what did he ask you to check?

–  I'm sorry, but as Supreme Archangel, I can't tell you that. That's strictly between me and Metatron. Oh, look, here he comes!

Aziraphale made a frightened face, as if there really was a Metatron behind Michael's back.

– What, where?

Michael turned around, and in the meantime Aziraphale kicked her leg so that there stopped preventing the elevator from closing. When the doors finally closed and the elevator voice said "Earth", Aziraphale finally exhaled. He snapped his fingers and changed out of his grey archangel suit into his favorite beige clothes.

He knew he wouldn't come back to Heaven again.

Aziraphale came down to Earth late at night. What a coincidence that the hour of rest and bliss in Heaven was at the same time as night on Earth. There was only one place on Earth where Aziraphale could feel safe, that was the place he thought of first.

So as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, he immediately went to the bookstore. The light in the store was on, but no one could be seen in the window. Aziraphale quietly opened the door and stepped inside. Muriel was sitting on the couch, quietly drinking tea. They didn't immediately notice Aziraphale, but the bell above the door gave him away. The scrivener turned their head and surprise froze on their face.

– Ah, oh, hello, Muriel! I see you decided to try the tea after all? – Aziraphale said, pointing to the cup of tea in Muriel's hand. They were silent for a minute or so and then said.

– Azir...Supreme Archangel! – With those words they jumped up from the couch and almost spilled the tea on themselves.

– Please, just call me Aziraphale. I'm not a a supreme archangel anymore. Well, or soon I won't be.

Muriel was still very surprised, but then they asked if he would like a cupperty.

And then a voice from the kitchen made Aziraphale frozen. Aziraphale would recognize that voice from a thousand million other voices. That voice had scolded him many times, praised him many times, called him an angel.

Crowley.

– Muriel, I told you, it is correct to say "cup of tea" not "cupperty" and we are already closed, to whom are you offering a t... – With these words Crowley left the kitchen and at first with a slight smirk looked only at his cup of coffee, not noticing Aziraphale standing at the door. But when he raised his gaze and looked at the visitor a look of surprise and maybe anger appeared on his face? Could Crowley be angry? Of course he could.

– Hello, Crowley... – Aziraphale said.

That day, there was no sign of trouble. Certainly not sign of the appearance of an angel in a bookshop.

After Crowley healed his cut with plenty of vodka, he took a shower, and decided to visit Muriel, of course, to tempt them to try tea or some other human food, and not to check if they had sold any book or how they were doing on Earth in general. No, how could you think that, pff... This was the first time he was going to leave his apartment in 3 months. And yes, the first thing he decided to do was head to the bookstore, knowing how hard it would be for him to walk in where all of this had happened. But Crowley was determined to forget about the angel, pick himself up and get on with his life. After all, if you love someone, you have to let them go. Though it hardly works when the one you love is such a fool that he voluntarily went to a place where no one loves him, no one appreciates him, and in general it can be dangerous. But you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.

So Crowley took a shower, put on clean clothes and went outside. The Bentley blinked her headlights when she saw her owner. After all, she'd been alone on the street for three months. As soon as Crowley got behind the wheel, the radio played the song "Good old fashioned lover boy" .

– Not now, – Crowley hissed and turned off the radio. He wasn't ready to go back to his normal life right away. Especially after some specific events, his life would never be the same again.

Almost to the bookshop, Crowley decided to pull over and park his car away from the store's entrance so it wouldn't be conspicuous. In case Maggie or Nina wanted to come up and say hello and started asking questions. It wasn't that Crowley didn't want to socialize with him. Maybe he did, but not right now. So he parked the car on a nearby street and headed to the bookshop.

On his way to the bookshop, Crowley stopped by the grocery store and bought a box of chocolates. To tempt Muriel to try human food, of course, not because he felt sorry for the young angel, since he and Aziraphale had left them alone to look after the bookstore and hadn't explained anything. Crowley had only at the very beginning, after everything had happened, strictly told them not to sell any books under any circumstances. And that was it, the scrivener was left alone and no one explained to them even the elementary rules of life on Earth. And yet, the box of chocolates was purely for temptation (not true), Crowley never pities anyone (this is also not true), he is a demon, evil in the flesh (and this is not true as well).

So Crowley walked up to the bookshop. It looked the same from the outside as it had three months ago. The A. Z.& Co. lettering was beautifully cast in gold, and the red colour of the shop seemed even more intense in the soft pink light of the sunset. Crowley took a deep breath and opened the door. Above his head came the treacherous but so familiar sound of the bell, which alerted everything and everyone in the store that he had arrived. He was home.

No, he wasn't. The bookshop is not his home. Maybe it had been once before, but not now. It's foreign territory to him now. And yet, when he stepped inside and smelled that peculiar smell of the shop  – a mixture of the scent of old books, tea, and vanilla – Crowley felt a pleasant warmth in his chest.

There was no one in the shop except Muriel, who quickly reacted to the ringing of the bell and jumped out from behind a bookshelf.

– Hello and welcome to the Aziraphale Bookshop... Mr. Crowley? What... What are you doing here?

– Uh, hello, Muriel! No mister, just call me Crowley. I was just passing through, thought I'd pop in and see how you're doing. How you doing? How's the book sale going?

– But you told me not to sell books, so I didn't. Should I have? You were joking about that three months ago? I was supposed to sell books? Oh, Mist... Crowley, please don't kick me out of the shop, I'll make it up to you. I've learned how to get along with people and I can sell an entire bookshop if I have to, just give me time. – Muriel began to chirp in an excited voice.

– Muriel, calm down. You did the right thing, you didn't sell a single book. Not a bad job.

Crowley wasn't very good at expressing his kindness in words, he was more of a being of action. Especially since the last time he had opened his mouth and made a beautiful speech that came from his heart, it hadn't ended the way he had expected.

– I brought chocolates, maybe we can have some tea and you can tell me how you're getting on. Okay? – Crowley asked in a half affirming voice.

– Uhm. Yeah, great, great, cupperty. I'll put the kettle on.

– It's a cup of tea, not a cupperty, Muriel.

– Yeah, okay, I got it, I'm on my way. – Muriel said and hurried into the kitchen.

Crowley liked Muriel because they was like a child. Just as kind and naive. Crowley had once been like that himself, fun and cheerful. An angel who squealed with joy and pride at every star he created.

Until he was thrown into a pit of boiling sulfur. After that, he never felt like an angel again.

Though no, it would be unfair not to mention the fact that there was one factor that allowed Crowley to feel good, enough again. Not an angel, no, Crowley didn't care about all the labels: angels, demons, cherubim, archangels, and dukes of hell. He just wanted to feel good enough, that no one would judge him solely on his status as a demon. And there was such a man. More precisely, it was not a man, but an immortal being named Aziraphale. Only next to his angel, Crowley felt good enough, because no matter what, the angel saw only good in him, always called him nice and kind, and although Crowley every time hissed at such words, he was still very pleased to hear them.

But that was before, because the last time they met, most likely, literally the last, the angel called Crowley bad and, as Crowley was always afraid, began to judge him by his status, because there is a universally recognized truth (which, in fact, is not true) that all demons are bad, and all angels are good and no other way to be.

You are the bad guys.

Memories of that conversation quickly surfaced in Crowley's mind, once he was alone with himself in the bookshop while Muriel boiled the kettle.

Shaking his head as if it would help get rid of the intrusive thoughts, Crowley walked to the back of the shop and sat down on the couch, placing the box of chocolates on a nearby table. Muriel was making tea from the kitchen, rustling and clinking glass. After a while, the scrivener reappeared in the main room of the bookstore. They placed the tray with the cups and teapot on the table, and poured the tea into cups. Crowley was in the meantime opening a box of chocolates. Muriel watched him with a certain wariness and uneasiness that was hard to ignore.

– What's the matter, Muriel?

– Are you really here to see me, or are you trying to trick me and tempt me? – they asked, still looking at the box of chocolates.

– Muriel, calm down, I'm not going to tempt you. You can eat the chocolate or not, you can drink tea or not, you can do what you want. I'm not insisting on anything, and yes, I'm just here to ask how you're doing.

– Okay, – Muriel replied, still not really believing Crowley, but less tense. – I'm fine, any other questions? Because I haven't heard from you in three months, and then you suddenly show up on the doorstep of a bookshop without warning.

Crowley was surprised at the cherub's reaction.

– Have you gotten used to life on Earth? How are you coping with the store?

Crowley was quite sincere in his questions, which Muriel sensed, too, so they began to tell.

– Well, it wasn't easy at first, but two wonderful women from the coffee shop across the street helped me. I think their names are Nina and Maggie.

Oh, yeah, of course it was Nina and Maggie.

– They told me that I shouldn't sell books because it would upset Aziraphale. They also told me about their association of Wickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association  and even introduced me to a few others. Everyone here is so wonderful. They wanted to buy me coffee many times, but I declined. They told me so much and detailed everything, but they didn't even seem to realize that I wasn't even human, can you believe it? And then they said that there had been some misunderstanding between you and Aziraphale, and then I found out that the Metatron had made Aziraphale the Supreme Archangel, but to be honest, I didn't understand why, because I saw through the window how you...I didn't quite understand what it was, but you and Aziraphale were so close to each other and your mouths were touching for some reason, and then you left and Aziraphale touched his mouth with such tenderness and at that moment there was such a powerful aura of love around him that I... Mr. Crowley, where are you going?

As soon as Muriel mentioned Aziraphale's name, Crowley flinched, and then they began to tell the rest of the story so rapidly that Crowley didn't even have time to stop them. And when the scrivener got to the description of their kiss...what had happened between them, he jumped up from his seat, realizing it wasn't tea he needed to calm down now.

– I'm gonna go make myself some coffee.

– Let me help.

– No, not Muriel, please sit down, I'll do it myself, thank you.

Crowley rose abruptly from the couch and headed for the kitchen. He pressed the button on the kettle (yes, after THE fire, Crowley had insisted that the store be as fireproof as possible, so despite Aziraphale's grumblings, he had an electric kettle), and with both hands rested on the kitchen counter. He needed time to digest this information that Muriel had so suddenly and quickly shared with him. First of all, had Muriel seen everything that was going on in the bookshop at that moment? And had they heard anything at all? Secondly, what do you mean Aziraphale gently touched his mouth and there was an aura of love around him? What aura of love? Aziraphale made it clear with his entire appearance that he was disgusted by the ki...by the desperate act that Crowley had committed. Surely Muriel must have misunderstood everything. But somehow their words still awakened feelings in Crowley that he had tried in vain to hide deep within himself: doubt, frustration, love, and longing. What if Aziraphale really did love him? What if, all those dinners at the Ritz, all those warm conversations with wine in the evenings in the bookshop, all those looks and touches, what if Muriel was right and Aziraphale really does love Crowley?

No, that can't be. Angels are creatures of love, they always radiate a love aura around them because they love everyone around them. But if––

– No, that's it, stop thinking. – Crowley hissed at himself.

It seemed he should have stayed home and slept for a few more months, because today the demon had experienced enough emotions caused by one stupid angel.

The kettle switch clicked, and Crowley took a cup, put six spoonfuls of coffee in it (it wasn't six shots of espresso, but it was something), and poured boiling water over it.

He heard Muriel offer someone a "cupperty," and he was surprised, for the bookshop was already closed. Taking a mug and stirring the coffee in it, he came out of the kitchen and said:

– Muriel, I told you, it is correct to say "cup of tea" not "cupperty" and we are already closed, to whom are you offering a t....

At the last words, Crowley looked up at the stranger next to Muriel and froze in place, the coffee cup miraculously not falling out of his hands.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Standing next to Muriel was a blond–haired man, wearing a beige three–piece suit and a tartan bow tie.

– Hello, Crowley.

Aziraphale.

Crowley stood motionless. After the greeting, the bookshop was silent. Aziraphale was as surprised as Crowley.

After a few minutes, Muriel broke the silence.

– Can you imagine, Crowley, Aziraphale is back, – they said nervously.

– Yes, hmm, Crowley, I'm glad to see you're all right. How are you doing? – Aziraphale didn't know what else to say. Or rather, he did, but it wasn't the right moment. Or was it? He didn't know. When he saw Crowley, Aziraphale forgot about everything else. He missed his demon too much. Crowley was still as handsome as ever. He was dressed all in black and he was wearing a black turtleneck. Oh my god, that black turtleneck, Aziraphale loved it when Crowley wore a black turtleneck. Everything about Crowley was perfect as always, but something told Aziraphale that it was impossible to say that the demon was 100% fine. Even under his sunglasses, Aziraphale could see his tired look and the angel knew the demon too well to realize that something was wrong with him, but he didn't know what. After all, they had known each other for 6,000 years.

The demon did not react in any way to Muriel and Aziraphale's words, but shifted his gaze from the angel first to the table, then to the window. Aziraphale followed the movement of his eyes and also looked at the table, where there was a box of chocolates and two mugs of tea. Wait, black turtleneck,  chocolates...what if?

No, it was unlikely that Crowley and Muriel would have had a date...though...yeah no...but....

Aziraphale hadn't been on Earth for some time and he didn't know what could have happened in that time. Doubts are doubts and even though Aziraphale didn't really believe in the possibility of any relationship between Muriel and Crowley, he decided that he wouldn't dump all the information on Crowley at once, but would start with the most important thing, the one that didn't need to be delayed.

– Crowley, please, I need your help. The second coming is in three weeks and we have to stop it, but I can't do it alone, I need your help!

Stupid angel, it could have waited!

First of all, Aziraphale had to apologize, that was something that didn't have to wait. His declaration of love was also urgent, but the turtleneck and the candy, be damned, wouldn't get out of his head. Aziraphale wanted to say so much, but he felt like he had so little time that Crowley was about to run away from him and Aziraphale wouldn't have time to say anything. Angel didn't know what to do or where to start, he was nervous, so his speech was confused and partly illogical.

– Crowley, please help me...

Wrong again. Why can't you apologize first, silly, – Aziraphale thought to himself, – I have to apologize...

– Crowley, I must...

– Muriel, please tell our Supreme Archangel that I don't want to help him, I don't need anything from him and in general Heaven are obviously waiting for him.... – Crowley interrupted Aziraphale.

Muriel looked at Crowley for a few seconds in bewilderment, but then repeated his words.

– Crowley asked me to tell you that he will not help you, he does not need anything from you and that Heaven are waiting for you.

Aziraphale was taken aback by this action on Crowley's part. Does he not want to talk to him? Are they going to play "I'm not talking to you" game? How childish...

– Crowley, please stop acting like a child, I need your help. Heaven's not waiting for me, I made a mistake, you were right and I was wrong. I can't change Heaven, it's unreal. We have to save the Earth, please help me. I can't do it alone. We can discuss everything else after the Second Coming.

Why do you keep putting it off... tell him already, don't drag it out...

Crowley didn't react to Aziraphale's words, it was as if he was waiting for something.

– Muriel, please pass my words to Crowley – asked Aziraphale.

When Muriel quoted Aziraphale, Crowley seemed to hear what he was saying.

– Muriel, tell Aziraphale that when he abandoned m.. When he abandoned the Earth, he was quite sure he could change the Heaven and that he could do it all himself. I'm not going to help him or talk to him. I've already said and done everything I want to do, so there's nothing to discuss, especially after the Second Coming.

– Crowley said that.... – Muriel started it.

– I heard, you don't have to repeat it, – Aziraphale interrupted them. He was both surprised and not surprised by such words from Crowley, but they were like a knife in his heart. He knew he had made a mistake, he knew he had been guilty and he was truly ashamed, he knew he should apologize, but was now the right time to apologize? And when, if not now? So Aziraphale gathered his thoughts and was about to apologize, but then Crowley turned his head and stared straight at him. Aziraphale was taken aback by that look and all his thoughts became confused again. Did Crowley look angry? Offended? Both, probably, but Aziraphale caught the look of disdain and irritation in his gaze and all his pretty speeches were blown away. Instead, he said to Muriel:

– In that case, Muriel, please tell Crowley that it was good to see him and I hope he manages to get off this planet before it is destroyed.

Crowley was silent for a while, and then he said:

– Tell him the feeling is mutual!

With these words Crowley abruptly set the cup of coffee on the table and walked briskly out of the store.

The loudness of the impact with which Crowley slammed the door shut made Aziraphale and Muriel flinch.

Muriel interrupted the silence again.

– What do we do now, supreme Archangel, oh, I mean Aziraphale?

Aziraphale stood silently staring at the floor. He hadn't expected their first meeting with Crowley to go well, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon and so unexpectedly. Yes, he could have guessed that Crowley would be at the bookshop, the demon was often there and it was partly his shop too, but still Aziraphale was surprised to see him so quickly.

– Aziraphale... – Muriel called out to him again.

– М? Ah, Muriel, what is it?

– What are we going to do now?

– What are we going to...? Ah, I'm going to get some rest in my room upstairs. By the way, could you tell me how long I've been gone? You know, time goes differently in Heaven and here...

– You've been gone for three months, – Muriel replied.

– Three months... I see. Thank you, Muriel and good night.

With those words, Aziraphale gave Muriel a strained, tired smile and went to his room.

Nothing had changed in his bedroom. Everything was in its place just as it had been three months ago. To think...it had been three months and he felt like he had only been gone for a few weeks at best...time is truly an amazing and dangerous thing. Sometimes it's too much, sometimes too little. Aziraphale had too much time in Heaven, and too little time left before the second coming. It would have been better the other way around. More accurately, it would have been better if the second coming had never happened at all. Aziraphale was tired of it all, of living in constant tension and waiting for the naked former supreme archangel to appear on his doorstep again, or that he would send the Antichrist to Earth again. Why Heaven and hell can't leave him and Crowley alone. Aziraphale wanted so much so that he and Crowley could live in peace and not be afraid of being scolded by their superiors or worse, sentenced to death again for collaborating with the enemy.

Overwhelmed by these thoughts and tired, Aziraphale didn't notice how he fell asleep.

And of course he dreamed again.

Crowley's apartment was empty and dark, with only the kitchen light on and voices coming from there.

– So are you going to tell us where to find Aziraphale, or do we have to find out for ourselves?

It was Uriel's voice.

– I told you I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, don't you think? – answered Crowley.

Michael pressed his head and left hand against the tabletop. Crowley was dressed in black silk pajamas – the same as in the two previous dreams.

– For the last time I suggest you give us the whereabouts of Aziraphale nicely, or we'll have a different conversation.

Crowley was silent.

– Alright, we have little patience as well as time, you have chosen your own path.

With those words Uriel took out a small vial of clear liquid and a pipette.

Holy water. A torture by holy water.

– Let's try calling your angel boyfriend differently. You see, for whatever reason, you and Aziraphale have formed a very strong bond whose power is unimaginably great. If one of you feels any strong emotion or feeling, the other feels it too. It is dangerous to keep you together, which is why Metatron took Aziraphale to Heaven. Because if you wanted to do a small miracle, and you got a miracle for 25 Lazaruses, it is impossible to imagine what you can do at full strength. But now this connection of yours is going to help us. You see, pain can also be called a strong feeling, so on your pain of holy water, Aziraphale will definitely come. – Michael said.

Crowley remained silent, but tried to break free from her grip. He failed.

Uriel took the dropper and dripped one drop onto Crowley's hand. The demon hissed.

– You still have time to change your mind and just tell us where Aziraphale is.

Crowley remained silent.

– Alright. – Michael nodded to Uriel and she dripped another drop on Crowley's hand.

The demon tried to hold on as best he could, but let out a low groan of pain and then hissed:

– You know, for archangels, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.

Michael and Uriel looked at him in bewilderment.

– I've been in unimaginable heartache for three months, and he still hasn't come. So why should he suddenly show up now, when you're just tickling me with holy water?

– I don't understand why you're defending him so fiercely. He left you, went to Heaven, and you're still defending him.

– You don't understand. You've never experienced any emotion or feeling. – Crowley hissed, as his hand ached terribly from a few drops of holy water.

– And what strong feeling do you have for Aziraphale that we don't understand?

– Think about it...

After a few seconds, disgust appeared on Michael's face.

– What, you love him?

Crowley looked at Michael in silence and said nothing, but his face had a clear 'you know the answer to that yourself ' look.

Michael then abruptly snatched the vial of holy water from Uriel and simply began sprinkling the liquid on Crowley's arm.

– You sinner! You sinner! – Michael shouted this every time she splashed holy water on Crowley's arm.

Uriel looked at the archangel in horror.

There was a hissing sound...it was the holy water like acid eating away at the demon's skin. Crowley couldn't help himself and screamed very loudly in pain and...

Aziraphale woke up.

He woke up and sat up abruptly on the bed. The sheet was wet with sweat, his heart was racing, and his breathing would not return to normal. It was only a dream. But this dream felt strange, too real, too painful.

Aziraphale sat on the bed for a few minutes, staring at the wall, trying to calm himself. Then he stood up abruptly, changed his clothes with a snap, and went to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water. It helped I'm to draw his thoughts to order and calm down, then he looked in the mirror and said to himself:

– You must tell him. You can't wait any longer!

After that, he went downstairs. The bookshop was quiet, with only Muriel's muttering coming from the kitchen. Seeing that Aziraphale was awake, Muriel asked:

– Would you like tea or coffee?

– No, thank you, Muriel, I have other things to do right now. Could you tell me where Crowley lives now?

– Hmmm, the same place he's been for the last three months since you left – in an apartment in Mayfair, of course. Why, is something wrong?

Did something happen? Well, how can I put it, Muriel. I made a serious mistake and I don't know how to make it up to my only and best friend. Even more than a friend. And now I have nightmares about how he's suffering and I don't know how to help him.

But Aziraphale said none of this, only thanked Muriel and headed for the door.

– Aziraphale! – Muriel called out to him.

– Yes, my child?

– Do you still need my help or should I go back to Heaven? – Muriel asked and in their voice Aziraphale could hear that they didn't want to go back there.

– Oh, no, you don't. You can stay here as long as you want, help at the bookshop is never too much.

Muriel smiled happily at Aziraphale.

– Thank you! I promise I won't sell books.

– I don't doubt it. Take care, – Aziraphale said and walked out of the bookstore.

Aziraphale hurriedly left the bookshop and headed to Crowley's apartment. He had just been in the bookshop, and now he was standing in front of Crowley's apartment door.

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, but then rang the doorbell. He heard the bell ring in the apartment, but heard no footsteps. A few minutes passed and he rang the bell again. Again there was silence. A feeling of worry began to build inside Aziraphale as he remembered the dream and felt a little uneasy. Of course, Crowley could have been asleep or out of the house, but that did little to reassure Aziraphale.

And in fact, Crowley was indeed asleep. After his and Aziraphale's meeting at the store, Crowley just came home and fell asleep, because sleep is the best cure for depression and unnecessary thoughts. He had slept for over 12 hours (which wasn't much for him) and so he was pretty pissed off when the doorbell suddenly rang. He was going to sleep for a long time and he had no intention of getting up so early. At first he wanted to ignore the doorbell, hoping that someone had just gotten the wrong door or, if it was a delivery he wasn't expecting, then they would just leave the box under the door. But the doorbell kept ringing, and then Crowley finally got angry, got out of bed, and, deciding not to put on his glasses to make himself seem even angrier, went wide–eyed to open the front door. The doorbell rang a third time and then Crowley opened the door with a growl:

– What do you want get out of here.... – His phrase was cut off halfway through, for he saw Aziraphale standing on the doorstep. Maybe he should pretend to be asleep and fall asleep standing up. Or just close the door in the angel's face? Crowley didn't know what he should do, but Aziraphale seemed to know.

When Crowley opened the door and Aziraphale saw him, he let out what must have been an overly loud sigh of relief. Aziraphale began to give the demon a cursory examination from head to toe fearing he was about to shut the door in his face. Thank goodness Crowley was alive and okay. Although, one could argue about being okay, because Crowley didn't look his best. You could even say he looked bad. He had lost even more weight, there were large bruises under his eyes from not getting much sleep (it felt like Crowley hadn't slept at all), his face was covered in stubble, and his eyes were red from.... tears? Allergy? Aziraphale didn't know. But something about Crowley's appearance struck him the most – the pajamas. They were the same pajamas that Crowley wore in Aziraphale's dreams. And Crowley looked exactly as he had in Aziraphale's dreams. Just as tired and thin. Could it be...could it be that all those dreams were true? All these thoughts flashed through Aziraphale's mind in just a few seconds, but Crowley must have realized that Aziraphale was up to something, so he started to close the door in the angel's face. But Aziraphale didn't come here to have the door closed in his face. No, he was determined. He grabbed Crowley's arm and rolled up his sleeve. There was a cut under the long black silk sleeve of his pajamas. A cut from a bottle shard, just like the one in Aziraphale's dream. The angel's face expressed surprise at first, then understanding, sympathy, and universal sadness. So all of Aziraphale's dreams were true? Though no, wait, not all of them. His nightmare wasn't true, for then Crowley wouldn't be standing here now. Oh, and there was only a cut mark on his arm, and no burns from the holy water. What were these dreams, then? Aziraphale realized that if his first two dreams were true, then they were probably prophetic dreams and that meant he had time to get to Crowley before Michael and Uriel came to torture him with holy water. The thought made Aziraphale uneasy. I mean, it's good that he made it in time to save Crowley, but it means that Crowley is still in danger and that they don't have much time. It also means that all of Crowley's suffering, all of his words about loving but not forgiving Aziraphale, everything he said in Aziraphale's dream is also true.

This only added to Aziraphale's resolve in what he had to say.

– Oh, Crowley.

Surprisingly, Crowley did not immediately, but only after a moment, jerked his hand away and released himself from Aziraphale's grip. He was simply shocked at such insolence and sharpness of Aziraphale. But Aziraphale was not going to delay any longer, to delay what he should have done long ago. He was determined, especially now that he realized that all his dreams were true.

Releasing his hand, Crowley abruptly and silently turned around and walked back into the apartment, but he didn't slam the door in Aziraphale's face, which the angel took as a good sign. As he entered the apartment, Aziraphale became even more convinced that some of his dreams were true. There were empty liquor bottles on the floor, shards of glass and papers that had been blown off the windowsill. Aziraphale didn't really want to remember the content of his dreams, because even without that it was clear that Crowley suffered a lot and completely stopped taking care of himself. And it was all Aziraphale's fault.

Crowley grabbed his glasses from the table, put them on and turned to Aziraphale as if he was waiting for something.

They were going to have a serious conversation.

For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale knew absolutely exactly what he wanted and what he had to say, so he began:

– Well, I've never really followed the rules much, especially when it comes to you, so I'm going to lose with our "I'm not talking to you" game and tell you something. No, not something, but one specific thing I should have said years, no, centuries ago. First of all, I didn't go to Heaven because I don't want to be with you or I don't like something about you. On the contrary, I wanted to protect you. I wanted Heaven to leave us alone, so that we could live in peace in the world we had so carefully created for ourselves. I was tired of all this Heaven shit and I knew I couldn't change Heaven, but I had to try, I had to make sure I couldn't do it. Yes, I am a stubborn angel, but my stubbornness is not about changing or not changing Heaven. My stubbornness has always been about you. Everything in my life has always been about you.

Aziraphale took a few cautious steps forward, but Crowley didn't move. Then Aziraphale continued.

– And now I know I can't change Heaven, but I also know that we need to prevent the second coming. We have to save this planet for the sake of people, for the sake of animals and plants, ultimately for US. Because we are on OUR side, remember? And even though I can't change the Heaven, I still want to protect you, Crowley. Please let me protect you, because you don't know what terrible things can happen.

There was a note of pity and despair in Aziraphale's voice, for he would never forget the terrible dream he had the night before.

– I know it was all my fault, and I know how you suffered while I was gone, because for some reason, and I'm not sure what that reason is, I had kinda of prophetic dreams and I knew about your cut on your arm, about you smashing a bottle against the wall, about you drinking and sleeping and watching melodramas, and about you finding a polaroid from 1941.

At the word about the polaroid, Crowley twitched slightly.

– Please, don't think that I spied on you, because I wasn't, though I won't hide it, I wanted to know what was happening to you on Earth, because I was very worried about you. I couldn't stop thinking about you for a minute, and I wanted to ask Muriel to keep an eye on you and let me know how you were doing. But that wouldn't be fair to you, because after what I'd done, you might not want to talk to me or think about me at all. So I only had these dreams, which, by the way, had only recently started, a few of them, but they were enough to make me worry and come here. I can't put into words how sorry I am, because I hurt you so much. But believe me, I'm really sorry. My intentions were good, but it turned out to be as bad as ever. I can't do anything without you, Crowley. Without you, I'm just an angel to be laughed at and scorned by Heaven. To be honest, I am so concerned about the Earth not only because there are billions of people living on it, but because there is one immortal being whose life, I value more than anything in the world. It's not an angel or a demon. It's you, Crowley. From our very first meeting I had a feeling in my chest, but I did not know what to call it, because it seemed that such a word does not exist in any language, but when you saved my books in 1941, and standing on the ruins of a bombed church I realized that the closest word to the feeling that I feel is the word love.

Aziraphale could have sworn that even under Crowley's glasses he saw the demon's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

– Yes, you foul fiend, I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, my darling. Always have. And I understand if you don't feel the same way about me, because I've hurt you deeply, but if there's even the slightest chance you can forgive me, I'd be very grateful.

Crowley stood silently for several minutes. Aziraphale became uneasy and said:

– Crowley, would you....

– No.

– What?

– I said no, there's no way I'd forgive you for what you did, for the pain you caused.

– But, Crowley, I –

– Because I already have.

– What?

– I've already forgiven you, you stupid angel.

Now Crowley's face wasn't frown so much.

– Oh, Crowley, you - You really forgave me?

– Of course I did, bastard.

Crowley wasn't smiling, but there was something in his voice that sounded like a smile.

– But Angel, please, next time you want to protect me, ask me first if I need your protection or if there's some way we can work this out together.

– But there won't be a next time, darling, because I'm never gonna leave you again.

– But you said nothing lasts forever.

– And you said you don't need me and you won't forgive me.

– How do you know?

– My dreams, remember?

– So you weren't kidding?

– Of course not. I did have dreams, and as it turns out, they showed things that were going to happen in the near future, but I don't know how near, because time is different in Heaven and here. And tonight I dreamed that Michael and Uriel came to torment you with holy water because they needed to know where I was hiding, but you didn't tell them, and then...then they started tormenting you with holy water and... – At this point Aziraphale's voice visibly trembled and became quieter, it seemed that the angel was about to cry, which was almost true, because it was very hard for him to remember this dream ... – and then they killed you with holy water when they found out that you love me. – Aziraphale finished in a whisper, tears streaming from his eyes. Crowley stood silent for only a few seconds and then quickly walked over to Aziraphale and hugged him.

The angel sobbed into his shoulder.

– And after that nightmare I woke up immediately and came here, though at that time I did not yet know that the content of my dreams was true. And now that I think I might not have gotten here in time for you...that I might have been late and all of this might have been true.... – he said. – Aziraphale kept whimpering into Crowley's shoulder. – I just... I...

– Shh, shh, Angel, calm down, it's okay, no one hurt me, I'm okay, I'm with you.

Aziraphale's sobs became quieter, he pulled away from Crowley a little and looked at the demon.

– No one will ever dare hurt you as long as I'm around, and I'm going to be with you always, forever and ever.

Crowley grinned.

– Don't make empty promises, angel.

– It's not an empty promise, my dear, but a very real vow. I can swear anything if you want.

– Don't. Calm down, angel, I believe you.

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley.

– I can't imagine how I would react if I were you. I'd probably burn the place down.

– I try not to think about them, I just try to concentrate on the nature of the dreams, why they're happening now. Michael and Uriel from my nightmare said that you and I have a special bond that everyone knows about, including the Metatron, and that's why he took me to Heaven under the pretext of a new position, to break that bond. Michael said that this bond is so strong that at minimum power we can perform a 25 lazarii miracle, but what happens at full power – no one knows. But she also said that if one of us feels intense physical or mental pain or one of us is overwhelmed with emotion, the other feels it too. Perhaps when I was in Heaven, I couldn't feel your feelings because of the heavenly barriers, but they reached me in this way, but that means...that you had some strong feelings recently....

Here Aziraphale remembered the chocolates, smiling Muriel and her and Crowley's tea party and...oh....

– So you and Muriel...? Oh Crowley, I'm so happy for you, you deserve all the happiness in the world. – said Aziraphale with a note of sadness in his voice.

Crowley didn't immediately get the meaning of the words Aziraphale said, but he knew very well how stupid his angel could be, so he answered:

– Aziraphale, are you stupid or naive? Yesterday I visited Muriel for the first time in three months, because before that I sat at home and suffered from unrequited love. And I've known about our profound bond for a long time, otherwise how do you think I managed to get your angelic ass out of trouble every time? Because I could sense when you were in trouble. But at that time, obviously, this bond was not so strong yet and it was possible to do without strong feelings and emotions.

Aziraphale stood silently staring at Crowley with a look so enamored that it made the demon uncomfortable.

– So you and Muriel aren't.. together? – Aziraphale asked with hope in his voice.

– Argh, Aziraphale, – Crowley rolled his eyes and threw his head back, – what else do I have to do to make you believe me and understand?

– Understand what? – Aziraphale asked, smiling slyly.

– Ah you bastard, – Crowley realized, – did you deliberately put on this show of a stupid naive angel to get more words out of me? Wasn't it enough for you what I said in the bookshop the other day? – Crowley was getting a little angry. He was hurt that after all he had done and said, Aziraphale still wasn't enough.

– Come on, darling, I was kidding. Your actions say more than other words. I've always noticed that, but I was afraid I was only imagining it, and I was afraid to ask, I didn't want to scare you off.

– Oh, Aziraphale.

– And Crowley?

– Yes, Angel?

– May I –

With these words, Aziraphale touched the rim of Crowley's sunglasses.

Crowley froze, but then nodded slowly.

Aziraphale slowly removed Crowley's glasses, tossing them gently onto the couch.

– Aren't they beautiful, – Aziraphale said, with a sincere admiration in his voice. – They are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

Aziraphale could have sworn that Crowley's cheeks turned a little pink at that moment.

– And there should be no tears of sadness, but tears of joy in these beautiful eyes..... – Aziraphale added and brushed away a tear that was running down Crowley's cheek with his finger.

Crowley closed his eyes, nestling a little against the angel's hand that rested on his cheek.

– Crowley, I know our first kiss didn't happen under the best of circumstances, but please let me make it right.

– What do you mean, Angel? – Crowley whispered.

– May I kiss you, my dear?

A look of shock froze on Crowley's face, but he nodded slowly.

Without wasting a moment, Aziraphale placed both hands on Crowley's cheeks and drew him in for a tender kiss. This kiss was better than their first, it was more gentle and slow rather than quick and desperate. Angel and demon merged into one, sharing their love for each other. This kiss only strengthened and intensified their strong bond that was over 6,000 years old.

As they kissed, Aziraphale lowered one hand and Crowley felt a warm radiation over his hand, as if the sun were warming directly over the hand where the cut had been. It was Aziraphale healing Crowley's cut. Angel felt the corners of Crowley's lips rise–the demon was smiling.

As they pulled away from each other, Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley's chest and felt something small and square under his right hand. A piece of paper of some sort was in the inside pocket of Crowley's pajamas. Do pajamas have inside pockets? Obviously, this one did. Angel looked at Crowley, but the demon's face clearly had a 'you know what it is' look on it.

After hesitating a bit, Aziraphale slowly slipped his hand under Crowley's pajama shirt and pulled a piece of paper out of the inside pocket of his pajamas.

It was a polaroid from 1941. Seeing this photo, Aziraphale shuddered.

– But I have the only copy...

– Yes, about that, – said Crowley, – I called Shax and asked her where she got it, because it was in her files. She said that Furfur had taken two photos, and they were almost identical, and that you had only taken one copy. But she so didn't want Furfur to be promoted that she stole the second photo from him, and then it got lost in her papers. That's a funny story.

– Yes... Very interesting, – Aziraphale said. – I mean, we were close to being caught and it could have been over so long-ago and... – said Aziraphale worried. – Aziraphale began to speak in a worried voice.

– Angel, calm down, we were always close to being caught but there was no stopping us, so nothing has changed now, don't worry.

– You're right, – Aziraphale said. – I'm sorry, I'm just really worried and...

Crowley silenced Aziraphale with another light kiss on the lips, then pulled away and pressed his forehead against the angel's.

– Aziraphale, we seem to have a Second Coming that needs to be stopped, don't we?

Crowley's apartment was dark and quiet. Only the kitchen light was on and voices were coming from there.

– What? How did he know we were coming?

– Some angel in Heaven must have told him. I think we have a spy.

– But it says they have a profound bond, but how does it affect us? I don't get it. Where are we supposed to find him now?

It was Michael and Uriel trying to figure out where Aziraphale and Crowley had gone, and there was a note on the table in front of them that said, "Gone for tea, never to return. And the signature: angel and demon, bound together forever."

At this time Aziraphale and Crowley were driving a car through the South Downs. It was night outside and so they could see nothing out of the window, only the occasional glimpse of farmhouses. 

– Where are we going? – Aziraphale asked Crowley. 

– Someplace safe. 

It couldn't be said that this answer satisfied Aziraphale, but he trusted his demon, so he stared silently out the window. After a few turns and 15 minutes of driving, the Bentley slowed down and they began to drive slowly down some rural road. After another five minutes, they stopped in front of some house. 

– Where are we? – Aziraphale asked again. 

– Get out and see,  – Crowley replied.

Aziraphale got out of the car. It was cool and fresh outside, grasshoppers were chirping in the grass. They found themselves in front of a small two–story cottage, quite old, but the house was in good condition. 
Aziraphale studied the outside of the house for a few minutes, while Crowley waited for him to realize what kind of house it was. 

– Is it...

– Yes, Crowley confirmed.

– Oh, Crowley... But how?

– Well, when we were here in 1956 you said you really liked this house, the location and the nature around it...and I thought...it would be nice to have a place where you could get out of the city and breathe the fresh air and enjoy nature...so I bought it. Do you want to go inside? Of course, the whole area around the cottage is protected from heavenly forces, but it's safer inside.

 – I'd love to, my dear.

When Crowley and Aziraphale went inside, the rooms were dark.

– Let there be light,  –  said Crowley, and all the lights in the house came on in an instant. – there's a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and two bedrooms...  – I was just thinking that maybe we could come here together as...as friends. – Crowley added.

Aziraphale stood on the doorstep with his mouth open – this house was everything he had ever dreamed of. Crowley gave him a little tour and the angel was surprised to notice that there were many items in the house that he had always wanted to have, but for one reason or another they were not available in his bookshop. It felt as if Crowley was literally reading Aziraphale's mind, because how else would he know what Aziraphale wanted (in fact, Crowley was just listening very carefully to his lovely angel and remembering every detail that he mentioned in passing in the conversation). 

– I think we can hide from Heaven here and figure out how to stop the Second Coming. Then, once we're done, you'll go back to the bookshop, of course.

Aziraphale was quiet for several minutes, looking around him in admiration.

– No.

– What?

– No,  – Aziraphale repeated. – I don't want to go back to the bookshop.

– But Aziraphale.
– Yes, it's my bookshop and I'll visit it from time to time, but Muriel is doing a great job and I have better things to do. – With those words Aziraphale stepped closer to Crowley and took his hand.

– Aziraphale, what are you.... – Crowley began.

– I want to live in this beautiful house and live here with you. The two of us. Just you and me. Just us. On our side. Of course, only if you let me. I understand if you don't want to, because I hurt you and despite everything, you still forgave me, even though I don't deserve you and I...

Aziraphale said, but his speech was interrupted by Crowley's lips, which collided sharply with his own. 

– Angel, how many more times do I have to kiss you before you realize that I forgave you long ago? – Crowley said, pulling away from Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale smiled shyly. 

 – So, I can stay here with you? We can live here together?

 – Of course you can, you bastard.

– Well then, everything in this house is beautiful, but only.... 

Crowley became visibly agitated. 

– Only what? – he asked.

– We don't need two bedrooms, just one large bedroom with a king size bed. – Aziraphale said and snapped his fingers. Crowley heard the sound of a miracle and realized that the wall between the two rooms had disappeared.

– Oh yes, we must have a greenhouse for your plants in the garden,  – Aziraphale added and snapped his fingers again.

Crowley froze in a daze. 

– Angel, you...

– Yes, my silly demon, I want to live with you in this cottage and sleep in the same bed with you, if you don't mind. However, if you don't want it and need some privacy, then I will understand and return the wall ba – Aziraphale again failed to finish the word because he was interrupted again by a kiss.

– Angel, if you knew how long I've been waiting for this moment...for this opportunity to live with you under the same roof and sleep with you in the same bed.

– I think we both have waited for it quite long, my dear. I think we've been idiots to keep quiet about our feelings, but I personally won't keep quiet anymore.

– Neither am I, angel, neither am I. – said Crowley and gave the angel a big hug. – Welcome to our home.

Six months later.

It was sunny in the South Downs. Somehow, miraculously, it was almost always sunny in the South Downs and one particular angel who loves the sun and one particular demon who loves that angel had absolutely nothing to do with it.

It was just a normal summer day. Aziraphale and Crowley were sitting in their cottage eating breakfast. Okay, maybe it wasn't a very ordinary day, but one of them neither knew about it yet or even realized it. Usually at breakfast, Aziraphale would be reading the newspaper and Crowley would be flipping through the Twitter feed on his phone. They were still getting used to their life together, even though it had been six months since they had stopped the second coming and started living in this cozy cottage near the coast. But six months compared to 6,000 years of hiding their feelings, hiding them inside themselves, was only a moment. Yes, they had dinners together (every meal was shared, because they lived together), they slept in the same bed (most often Crowley fell asleep first, and Aziraphale sat next to him and read a book late into the night), they went on picnics together on the beach, they touched on the swings together in the backyard garden, but to say out loud words of love and various confessions – there was no such thing. They still kept it inside because for 6,000 they were used to doing rather than saying. Their language of love was actions, not words.

And so today Crowley was about to perform another action.

Aziraphale was sitting in a chair reading a newspaper, the sun streaming through the curtains and window reflected beautifully in his golden curly hair and Crowley, instead of his usual Twitter feed, was visibly nervous and couldn't take his eyes off Aziraphale. Angel couldn't help but notice it.

– Something wrong, my love? – Aziraphale asked, putting the newspaper aside.

There's that "my love" thing again. In six months, Crowley still wasn't used to hearing it out of the angel's mouth.

– Do you...do you remember what day it is? – Crowley asked.

– Um, Friday, June 5th, why? – Aziraphale inquired.

– No, do you remember what day it is?

– Well... World Environment Day, World Running Day, the day of..... – said Aziraphale, smiling.

 – Angel, are you being sneaky again? – Crowley asked, relaxing a little.

– My dear, of course I remember, exactly six months ago we stopped the Second Coming.

– Yes, that's right, – answered Crowley, and again he became agitated, – and that's why I have a present for you.

With these words Crowley took out a book from somewhere under the table (apparently it was lying on his lap) and, with a trembling hand, held it out to Aziraphale.

– Oh, Crowley, my dear, thank you, but you shouldn't have worried so much. Are you sure everything is all right? – Aziraphale asked, taking the book in his hands.

– Yes, everything is fine, what could be wrong? – Crowley said in a still slightly nervous voice.

Actually, I've been out of order for like 6000 years now, but thanks for noticing.

Aziraphale looked at the book. It was a new special edition of Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice". He had never had such an edition in his collection before.

– Thank you, my dear, it's so.....

– Open it. – said Crowley.

Aziraphale obeyed and opened the book. Inside was an envelope. The angel looked at Crowley questioningly, but he only nodded. Aziraphale opened the envelope. Inside was a picture of him and Crowley from another picnic on the beach. Crowley had bought himself a new phone with a good front camera then and they had taken selfies. And on the other side of the photo was the caption "I am determined that only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony."

And in the envelope was a ring. It was a gold ring with angel wings engraved on it.

Aziraphale stared at the ring in shock, and Crowley couldn't stay silent any longer:

– I wanted to do it in a nicer and maybe romantic setting, but I wouldn't have been able to be patient all day and wait for tonight, so I decided to do it now. Hmmm, – Crowley cleared his throat and looked at the angel who was still looking at the photo and the ring. – You know words have always been hard for me, especially words like that, but I have to at least try, because the inner insecurity is still eating at me, I'm still afraid that it's all a fairy tale, that it's all a dream, that one morning I'll wake up and you won't be there because you're gone or Heaven has taken you away. I will understand if you say no, but I can't help but try. You used to say you were stubborn and your stubbornness is always about me. Well, I'm quite reckless, and my recklessness is always about you. I understand if I'm moving too fast for you again, Angel, but... – Crowley took a deep breath, – Aziraphale, I fell from Heaven because I asked too many questions, but I'm not afraid to ask them anymore because I've already fallen, I mean, I've already fallen in love, in love with you. And now I want to ask the most important question I should have asked a long time ago. – Crowley got up from the table and got down on one knee in front of Aziraphale, who still couldn't take his eyes off the photo and the ring. The demon took the angel's hand that held the ring and asked: Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, former Supreme Archangel, the most beautiful and the kindest angel in the whole universe, will you marry me?

Aziraphale was still silent, but then looked at Crowley and he saw that the angel was crying.

Oh, shit. Why is the angel crying? Had Crowley done something wrong again? Well, of course, he always does everything wrong. He tried to lighten things up, it could still be turned into a joke. Yes, of course Crowley was joking, he's such a clown.

– Okay, Angel, forget it, ignore it, forget I said anything. It's just a stupid human tradition we don't need, I'm sorry. You can keep the book, just throw the ring away. What was I thinking? We haven't even been together that long. I'm sorry I messed up and –

– Yes.

– What?

– I said yes, you stupid demon, of course I'll marry you, – Aziraphale finally said. – You didn't even have to ask, I thought that in 6000 years I had expressed my love for you many times enough in one action or another.

– Yes, but I just wasn't sure and.... – Crowley started to say, but his words were lost in the kiss. Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the lapels of his jacket and deepened the kiss. The demon's body visibly relaxed and his heartbeat evened out.

Pulling away from each other Aziraphale said:

– And now are you sure of my love to you?

– Almost, – Crowley answered and kissed Aziraphale again. – something is still missing.

Aziraphale smiled, then his smile turned into a chuckle and then he started laughing.

– What's so funny, Angel?

– Oh nothing, nothing much, it just makes me laugh at what idiots you and I are.

Crowley raised an eyebrow in bewilderment.

– What do you mean?

Aziraphale patted the breast pocket of his jacket and, still smiling, pulled out a silver ring depicting a snake with angel wings.

Crowley was ready to faint right there in their kitchen. He was so worried that Aziraphale wouldn't accept his ring and want to be his husband, but he couldn't imagine that Aziraphale himself would want to propose to him! How long had the angel been waiting for the right moment? When had he wanted to ask the very question? Crowley's eyes widened with surprise and he couldn't utter a word.

Aziraphale spoke first:

– I also wanted to do it today, but in a more romantic setting, for example, on the seashore, but I like your idea better. It's probably weird, but Crowley, I want to ask you a counter question – will you marry me?

Of course, there was no point in this question, because Crowley had proposed first, which meant he didn't mind marrying Aziraphale, but Aziraphale wanted Crowley to experience the pleasant feelings that arise inside when you hear these words.

– Aziraphale, Angel, my love, of course I will marry you! I love you more than anything in the world and I don't want to part with you even for a minute, not anymore. I want to be your husband and wear these wedding rings. Of course I do!

Aziraphale waited for a response from Crowley.

It turns out that all these words of love Crowley said only in his head, but in reality he only looked at Aziraphale in silence.

– Crowley, are you okay? Are you looking a little pale? You don't like the ring? I can buy another if...

Crowley didn't let Aziraphale finish, pulling him to him for another kiss.

– Is that a yes? – the angel asked, smiling into the kiss.

– It's yes of course, – Crowley replied.

When they pulled away, they leaned against each other's foreheads and exchanged rings.

– Ineffable? – Crowley asked.

– Husbands. – replied Aziraphale.

– Ineffable husbands, I like that. – said Crowley. – so, do you want a lavish wedding, party and ceremony?

– No, – replied Aziraphale. – I want to go on another picnic with you, only this time not as my friend, but as my husband and honestly, I'm not going to hold back in my actions and words anymore.

– Whoa, Angel, easy. That sounds really interesting, and I'm all for it.

And just like that, the chapter of their lives called "Ineffable friends" ended and the chapter called "Ineffable husbands" began.