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Aziraphale released the grip he had on the edge of his seat as Crowley pulled the Bentley up to park outside the Dowlings' home. As it happened, Crowley's driving did not change just because the country did. Aziraphale took a moment to settle himself before getting out and noticed the car's engine ran in a way that sounded decidedly smug until Crowley turned it off.
"It does know it's supposed to drive on the right-hand side of the road here, doesn't it?" Aziraphale asked as they walked to the house.
"Shh!" Crowley hissed as he glanced back at the car. "Don't ruin its fun."
Crowley had placed the Bentley in long-term parking for the Bridges retreat, a stay he'd only expected to last a week. Unfortunately, Hell had marked its location before their miracle took effect, and someone downstairs was smart enough to realize it was probably in the same place after. When the two of them went to pick up the car, they found demons accosting anyone who approached the parking space, so unfortunately, they'd been forced to leave it there during their travels.
When they'd passed through on their way to American, no one was watching the car anymore, so they took it with them. Neither Crowley nor the Bentley were quite over the enforced separation yet, so he was spoiling it more than a little. It was all quite adorable, really, and Aziraphale intended to enjoy watching them without comment so it wouldn't make Crowley feel self-conscious.
The housekeeper answered the door, but they'd had only reached the entrance hall before Thaddeus came out to greet them.
"Sorry, I'm afraid it's going to be a moment before we can join you properly," Thaddeus said. "I'm afraid a meeting has run over."
"A meeting?" Aziraphale asked, though he worked very hard to make his tone non-judgmental.
"Not one of mine, if you can believe it?" Thaddeus grinned. "She's been trying to end it for the past hour, but they keep thinking of just one more thing."
"And you can't help her out?" Crowley asked.
"If I knew how to get out of meetings, my marriage wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place. Being told our company has arrived should help, though." He motioned for them to follow him up the steps. "Quite the vehicle you have out there. Was it hard to find the parts?"
"They're all original," Crowley said proudly. "Haven't changed a thing since new."
"I tried to make it yellow once," Aziraphale said. "He wouldn't let me."
"I'm going to have to go with Crowley on that one," Thaddeus said. "That is not a car that should be yellow."
Crowley smirked at him, and Aziraphale sighed.
"I still say it was pretty."
"Here we are," Thaddeus said as he opened the door to the guest room. "Feel free to take time settling in. We'll meet you in the living room downstairs once Harriet escapes."
"What is it with you and yellow?" Crowley asked once they were alone again, and as he peered out the window, possibly checking on the car already.
"It's my favourite colour," Aziraphale said.
"Really?" Crowley turned around and looked at him. "Huh."
"What colour did you expect it to be?"
"Hadn't really thought about it. That's probably not good. It's one of the questions on all those ridiculous couples quizzes, isn't it?" He tilted his head. "You don't wear any yellow."
"Wear—" He stopped, deciding not to ask why the demon had apparently concluded people were required to wear their favourite colour. "So, which is yours, black or red?"
"Black isn't a colour. It's a shade."
"Red, then."
"Well, yeah."
"What makes it your favourite?" Aziraphale asked. It was fun to find something they didn't know about one another after all these years.
Crowley looked away and shrugged. "Just is. What makes yellow yours? Sunshine? Dandelions? Old paper?"
"Really?" Aziraphale laughed. "You think it's one of those?"
He frowned as he thought it over. "Lemon drops?"
"I do love you, you know. Even when you haven't a clue." Aziraphale smiled and crossed the room. When he reached Crowley, he took off his sunglasses, hanging them off his pocket, and then held his cheeks with his hand so he could properly see his favourite colour in all the world. "Your eyes, Crowley. It's my favourite, because it's the colour of your eyes."
"Oh," he said, he glancing away and then back. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I understand the sunglasses. But I've always liked the moments when it's just the two of us alone best, because you take them off."
"Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he couldn't quite meet Aziraphale's gaze.
"Now as much as I prefer yellow," Aziraphale said, to give Crowley time to collect himself. "Red looks very good on you." He reached up and adjusted the collar of Crowley's jacket so the red lining would be more visible. "I've always appreciated when you add touches of it to your wardrobe. I quite liked the tie you used to wear in the nineteen-forties."
"I can't believe you remember that."
"You were wearing it the night you saved my books. I remember everything about that night," he said, and rested his hand against Crowley's chest. That was one of his favourite memories, and despite the challenges, one of his favourite times together. They were closer now than they had been then, but that was perhaps the closest they'd gotten prior to that, and he treasured it. Sure, he'd stumbled again later, but it was a memory he held dear, and not just by keeping the photograph in his pocket.
"So do I," Crowley admitted, then leaned down so their foreheads touched as they stood together by the window. "That was a strange and wonderful night."
Aziraphale laughed, thinking he'd have chosen touching over strange, but both were accurate. They stayed there, enjoying the moment together, before he felt he had to ask, "What is it do you think they expected us to be doing in here?"
"Washing up?" Crowley said. "I think that's what happens in the movies. Come in after a long journey, wash your face and hands, take care of human incidentals."
"We should probably head downstairs then. I expect we've been here long enough for that."
Crowley nodded, put his sunglasses back on, and they left the comfortable room, finding the stairs and searching the hall for the living room. When they found it, there was a young man with brown hair sitting in one of the chairs, though he jumped to his feet as they entered.
"I'm to tell you my parents are almost on their way. The meeting is over, but they just have a few small things to take care of."
"You must be Warlock," Aziraphale said, seeing the young boy they'd known in the teenager's eyes.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Crowley added. "Your parents are very proud."
For some reason, instead of being pleased by that news, it prompted a strained smile. "They said they met you at that marriage thing? That you were helpful."
"As were they," Aziraphale said, taking the initiative to get them all sitting again. He chose one of the sofas, so Crowley could sit beside him, and was pleased when he put an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders.
"It's nice they have friends," Warlock said as he took his seat again, though he didn't appear altogether comfortable conversing with his parents' guests.
"They must have other friends," Crowley said.
"They have political and business contacts," Warlock corrected. "Some of those might also be friends, but I guess we'll see once dad retires."
"That's a cynical view," Aziraphale said.
"It's practical," Crowley corrected. As he said that, Warlock seemed to deflate.
"Right, practical."
"That's a good thing to be, certainly," Aziraphale said, hoping to bring his spirit back. "Hard to get things done if one person attempting it isn't practical."
"Probably why we have so much trouble," Crowley agreed, and that drew a chuckle out of Warlock.
"I guess it's not terrible, but it... Honestly, among my friends, I tend to be the neutral view. Certainly not exciting."
"Why should you need to be exciting?"
He studied them for a long moment, and then glanced at the open door and out into the hallway, before turning back. "My parents keep asking me what my plans for the future are. I've been telling them I haven't decided yet, but I'm going to run out of time soon."
"And you do have a plan, don't you?" Crowley prompted.
"I do." Warlock sat up straighter in his chair. "I want to be an accountant."
"Oh, that's a very sound career," Aziraphale said. "Quite useful."
"But not exciting," Crowley pointed out. "Is that why it's on your mind?"
"It's boring," Warlock confirmed. "At least, that's what most people think. You need a career for a boring person in a movie, you make them an accountant. I don't think so, but I love math and I'm good at it, so it's more interesting to me than my friends. Only, I'm the son of the American Ambassador to the UK, and my mother's suddenly turned into an infrastructure crusader. People have higher expectations for me. My parents have them."
"I think," Crowley said gently, "that your parents might be more open to you doing what you want than you think. Or if they've given the sense they weren't open to that before, you'll likely find they're more so now. Especially your mother."
"Yeah?"
He nodded. "Very much so."
"That's good to know," Warlock said, with just the hint of a smile before it disappeared again. "But it's not just them."
"No? Who else?" Aziraphale asked when it seemed he wasn't going to continue on his own.
"I had a nanny when I was younger," Warlock started. "And there was gardener I liked who didn't seem to be bothered when I wanted to talk, even though he must have had better things to do."
Beside Aziraphale, Crowley stiffened, and he hoped his own expression was interested, but not revealing.
"They used to tell me that was I going to do great things. Be powerful. I don't remember all of it now. I think I must've misunderstood, because I could swear they thought I'd have a chance to destroy the world and Nanny told me I should, but Brother Francis said not to. That probably sounds really weird."
"Not as much as you'd think," Crowley said, and Warlock laughed, as if it were another joke.
"Anyway, whatever it really was, they expected me to be important, to do something world changing at least. And I just keep thinking how disappointed they'll be if I become just an accountant." He sagged in his seat, and Aziraphale felt a pang for the poor boy they'd once thought was the antichrist.
"You have to remember," he said, "they were telling you what they thought would be most useful at the time. Things they thought would be helpful once you were older." After all, that was true, even if they hadn't exactly had the same motivations as human adults who told children such things.
"All adults do it," Crowley said, picking up the angle he'd taken. "What is it they say over here? 'You could be president one day!' Without meaning it, most of the time, because it's not true, not for everyone. But they say it so kids'll consider everything. Means they keep their options open, try for some long-shots, and sometimes make them. That's all."
"This didn't seem quite like that," Warlock said, and then shrugged. "But you could be right. They probably thought I'd go into politics, given who my father was and with all that talk about my decisions being important to the world."
"I think if you spoke to them now," Aziraphale said, "they'd tell you they're glad you've found something you love."
"They'd probably even be proud you're doing it no matter what anyone expects. There's power in that, you know?"
"Really?"
"In being able to take everything everyone has told you to be, when you know it isn't who you are, and tell them all to stuff it? That takes fortitude. So, yeah. That's a power move."
Warlock grinned and sat up straighter in his chair. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"Do what you want to do," Aziraphale advised. "And don't worry about the rest of it. Anyone who wants the best for you will be happy for you. And anyone else can shove off."
"Thank you," Warlock said. "I know it's weird to say it, but you two kinda remind me of them. Feels a little like Nanny and Brother Francis told me themselves. Though their advice was always the exact opposite of each other. I don't know they'd every agree, much less get together."
"Stranger things have happened," Crowley said.
Warlock shook his head as he laughed. "Maybe. Nah, I'm not going to imagine any more. But thank you. I needed to hear that."
Footsteps behind them announced the Dowlings' arrival as Harriet asked. "Hear what?"
"Just some career advice," Warlock said as the three of them stood.
"Oh good. We were getting worried you were going to be stuck on options forever. If they've helped point you in a direction, that's wonderful." She came around the couch and greeted Crowley with a hug that seemed to surprise him. "It's so good to see you two again."
"You as well," Aziraphale said, awkwardly receiving a hug in his turn. "You're both looking well."
They were, too. More relaxed and happy than they were when they showed up at the retreat. Possibly more than they'd been through Warlock's entire childhood, or at least the part Crowley and Aziraphale had spent with them.
"Shall we get to dinner?" Harriet said, something Aziraphale was happy to do. "I'm looking forward to catching up."
They spent the meal in delightful conversation, and the next time it turned around to Warlock's future plans, he told his parents he'd settled on a career. They seemed surprised with his choice, but to Aziraphale's great relief, they were supportive rather than disappointed. Thaddeus even brainstormed the best schools for him, and Harriet the best ways to make sure he was accepted by the one of his choice. These were all factors of human existence Aziraphale was unfamiliar with outside of the occasional blessing to ensure they happened, so he contributed in the way he knew how. Warlock would get into his dream school.
Crowley looked over at him the moment the blessing was in place, a smirk on his face, but he didn't say anything. Not until they were back in the guest room after everyone turned in for the night.
"Couldn't help it, could you?"
"It's the least we could do," Aziraphale said. "It turns out I was actually right that we influenced him in ways that affected his future. I'm glad insisting on that retreat gave us the option to help him, if only a little. And anyway, it's not as though anyone's going to complain about it. So why not start placing blessings where I want to rather than where I'm supposed to?"
"Absolutely no reason not to," Crowley said, in a tone that was proud more than anything. "We're doing what we want now, too."
"Exactly," Aziraphale agreed as took his book and lay down, watching as Crowley shifted into pyjamas and set his sunglasses on the table beside the bed. He wrapped an arm around Crowley as the demon snuggled up against him.
The bed was comfortable. It was more comfortable than some beds in the many hotels they'd been staying in. He wouldn't have expected anything less in the Dowlings' home, but he'd found, over time, that he was beginning to wish he could find a bed that was exactly what they wanted and be in the same one every night. It was how he'd felt about selecting the chair for his shop, when he'd decided to stay in one place for a time.
Aziraphale was a Principality. Or he had been for most of his existence. After being Supreme Archangel for a time and then quitting unexpectedly, he didn't really know what he was now. But he enjoyed having an area to call his own. As much as he had wanted to travel and had loved seeing the world with Crowley, he was ready to settle again.
"Something wrong?" Crowley asked, the way he always did when Aziraphale didn't start reading immediately after they snuggled up for the night.
"I think I'm ready to go home." They couldn't go back to Soho, he knew that. After all, Hell had been smart enough to stake out a parking space. Surely Heaven would keep an eye on their own embassy. But he needed a place of their own.
"Sure. Want to skip the check-in?"
"Absolutely not," Aziraphale said, firmly. No, he wanted to make the trip back to Bridges no matter what. "I want to complete the process. But after that, I'm ready to stop traveling for a bit."
"We can do that," Crowley said, and Aziraphale couldn't tell what his tone meant. When he looked down, Crowley had rested his head on Aziraphale's chest. Though his charming eyes were open, he wasn't looking at anything in particular. Pensive, he decided. Crowley's tone and expression were pensive.
"We'll figure out what to do next after the check-in," he said, though he already had an idea forming. He'd talk to Harriet and Thaddeus before he and Crowley left. Surely they'd be able to tell him how to find what he was looking for. He could ask Crowley, of course, but then it wouldn't be a surprise.
"Back to Bridges, and then home," Crowley confirmed. "And then we..."
"We carve out a new precious, peaceful, and not at all fragile, existence together."
This time Crowley smiled. "Yeah. Alright."
Aziraphale brushed his hands through Crowley's hair as he smiled. "I'm quite looking forward to it."