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Crowley stepped out of Bethany's session office and relaxed. The check-in was, thankfully, intended to discuss how they'd been getting on, and to review any of the tools and techniques they'd learned that they seemed a little shaky on. It wasn't another round of painful vulnerability.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Aziraphale said as they strolled toward the lobby.
"You were right," Crowley agreed. "But I'm glad to have made it through the process."
"That's a lifelong process," Aziraphale quoted Bethany.
Crowley just rolled his eyes, something he knew Aziraphale caught when the angel smirked.
"Shall we get lunch while we're here? The food at the restaurant is quite good," Aziraphale said, letting the previous topic go. But he was now using his I've-done-something-very-clever voice. Crowley hadn't caught him doing anything particularity clever while in the meeting, so he'd have to wait to find out what it had been during lunch when the angel couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Works for me," Crowley said, following along as they walked through the hallways and found the dining room. Now that they were through the session, he could admit coming back was almost worth it just to hear the new participants' surprise at how open they felt like being here. The Bridges center always had positive reviews, but they had improved even more since the two of them had left. Except for a handful of people who were very upset that the retreat required them to tell the truth to their partner and had in doing so ruined what remained of their relationships. Humans really had the most interesting view of circumstances at times.
They helped themselves to the buffet and took a seat in the restaurant, somewhat apart from the groups that were clearly the current clients. Aziraphale enjoyed his food while Crowley griped about still having to settle for coffee instead of wine when they weren't even in this group. In between, they chatted about the debrief they'd had with Bethany, who seemed genuinely happy for them. It wasn't until Aziraphale finished his meal and picked up his water glass that he smiled and said,
"Now, my dear, could you please tell me why you used to object so to being called 'nice' or anything of the like?"
Crowley's mouth dropped open and he lowered his mug. "Oh, you scheming bastard."
Aziraphale smirked, sitting back in his chair with a very pleased little shoulder wiggle.
"This is why you didn't want to skip the check-in, isn't it?"
"Yes," he admitted, without the slightest bit of shame. "Though I do also think it was best to continue following the process all the way through."
"I can't believe this."
"Stop stalling."
"Look, it doesn't apply anymore, anyway. Why are you so keen to know?"
"You're keeping a secret, one that involves me," Aziraphale said, and his self-satisfied tone gave way to hurt. "We've been trying very hard not to do that anymore, something you've been quite insistent about when I'm the one who doesn't want to talk. This seems like the sort of thing we should discuss. Why don't you want to talk to me?"
Crowley tilted his head back and sighed. "Because it's just going to make you feel bad, or guilty, and I don't see that there's anything to gain from it."
When he straightened up again, he found Aziraphale staring at him with shock.
He groaned. "I'm going to have to tell you now, aren't I?"
"Yes!" Aziraphale leaned forward. "I may not have your breadth of imagination, but I am very good at worrying. Crowley, if I've done something wrong, then I need to know."
"Not wrong, just—" Crowley closed his eyes, then opened them again and leaned forward, stabbing a finger toward Aziraphale. "Fine! Fine, but I want you to remember that I didn't want to talk about this. Okay?"
"Please, just tell me."
He downed the rest of his coffee and sighed. "Right. So, I've always been able to tell if someone from either side was watching us, but I was never a hundred percent certain exactly how or why Heaven decided to check up on you. Like, what made them focus on you at any given moment, or call you in for an unscheduled report?"
"I'm not certain there actually was a system," Aziraphale said. "Strange as it seems, given how they treated us at the end, I think they just assumed everyone would do what we were told. Because, well, we did. Honestly, they only checked-in when someone remembered they hadn't done so for a while, or when Hell was doing something we needed to know about. Which, I suppose, explains why it took them so long to realize they had records of the two of us meeting. No one ever looked; they just filed them."
"You know, I'm starting to think Hell just has an inferiority complex, given they've never figured out Heaven's even more dysfunctional than they are." Crowley shook his head. "Anyway, knowing that, it makes sense that it wouldn't have occurred to you that Hell's systems are… different."
Aziraphale had been taking a sip of his lemon water, but he put his glass down again. "What do you mean?"
"You know, they never understood algorithms, no matter how many times I tried to explain it to them, but the way they keep tabs on us is a lot like that. Certain events, feelings, or phrases, they send up a flag if they're in some way connected to a demon."
"Oh, like that Googly-thing you set up to let me know when books go up for auction?"
"Google, Aziraphale, it's Goog— But yes, just like that. They set conditions, and if those conditions are met, they get a warning that they should maybe check in on things." He sighed, tapped at the table, and then figured he'd gone this far, might as well get it all out there. "Most of those are things the demons says or does, of course—those are the big ones, actually—but some of the other conditions are expressions or feelings of gratitude, people saying a good thing had been done, that the demon was nice or kind, that actions they've taken have created something positive. You know all things we're supposed to be doing the exact opposite of."
Aziraphale gasped. "When I called you nice, it was telling Hell to check up on you?"
"Not if it was just once, or a casual thank you or something. Early on, I convinced them they needed to add a threshold level, because sometimes you have to do something that seems good so you can get humans onto the wrong path later. That took care of most of it."
"Oh, good," Aziraphale said, relaxing for a moment, until his eyes filled with realization. "At the paint ball facility, when you pressed me against the wall, it was to stop them from finding us there."
"Yeah. The whole miraculous escapes thing was a little dicey, probably took me close to the line, though I think giving them the real guns they wanted was strong enough to cover it. But I couldn't risk it, not then. If they called me in to explain, I'd have also had to explain what the hell I was doing there."
"If they called you in," Aziraphale said, and Crowley could see him working it through, coming to the right conclusion.
He closed his eyes as the feeling of doom set in. When he opened them again, Aziraphale was looking at him with guilt and sympathy.
"Edinburgh. After you saved Elsbeth. You disappeared. I knew they must've pulled you into Head Office, despite the laudanum. But it was because I kept saying what a good thing it was. Because I wouldn't let it go."
Crowley leaned back, crossing his arms as he shook his head. "No, I would've drawn attention with that no matter what, and Elsbeth was also a factor. She'd realized she'd encountered supernatural forces, given neither of us thought to smooth that over before sending her off to buy a farm. Anyway, she was grateful for how it'd all turned out and expressed that gratitude to the universe at large."
"But it wasn't just her."
"The report did mention an unknown third party who had expressed that I'd done a 'Very Good Deed,' which didn't help."
"I've been putting you in danger all along. More than I thought." Aziraphale said, slumping in his seat. All traces of his pleasure at having lured Crowley here for the conversation were gone. Horror flashed across his face as he sat back up again. "Oh no!"
Crowley winced, and his hands tightened reflexively. Sometimes, Aziraphale was clever at the worst possible times.
"The next time I saw you, that was when you asked me for Holy Water. When you were worried, they were going to catch us. What did—?"
"Don't," he said, leaning forward and holding up a finger. "Don't ask me that." He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "Look, we've always known my side was a little more, let's say hands on, with their discipline and punishment. I avoided it, mostly, thanks to creative reporting, but you can't be an unconventional demon and avoid it entirely. So yeah, that one frightened me. But I got called in because I drank the laudanum to keep from her doing it. The punishment would've been the same with or without your appreciation and I was fool to think for even a second that'd I'd gotten away with it. Or, well, no, I was probably just so drunk it seemed possible, but still. That one's on me."
"But you let me keep doing it. Why didn't you tell me? Warn me at least?"
Crowley closed his eyes, ran a hand down his face, and reminded himself that the stupid truth-telling miracle was his own damn fault. "BecauseIkindoflikedit."
"Sorry, could you repeat that?" Aziraphale asked, though Crowley was certain he'd understood it just fine.
"Because I kind of liked it," he forced out through gritted teeth. "I've never tried to be a typical demon. I only tried to be passable enough to escape notice while claiming credit for things humans did, so I seemed far better at destroying their lives than I was. But it gets to you. Not being able to be the thing the entire universe expects you to be. Even if that's not what you want to be and you didn't choose to be it in the first place. Sometimes, it seemed things'd be easier if I just went along with them all the way."
Aziraphale's his expression softened into one of sympathy and understanding. Because if there was anyone in the universe who knew what it was like to be in that position, it was the just-enough-of-a-bastard angel across the table from him. "Even those with a lot of fortitude have limits."
Crowley nodded, thinking back to what he'd told Warlock. He hadn't lied. He just chose not to mention how hard it was to hold to yourself when everyone was against you. Fortunately, the boy wouldn't have to find out how hard that could be. "You were right when you thought I might need encouragement. And it felt good to be appreciated for the things that stopped me from being an effective demon. I also liked that there were things about me you appreciated and were willing to admit you appreciated, even if they were just 'angelic' qualities. I know in the end I started thinking you were just seeing the angel I'd been, but I mean, before that thought crept in. So, anyway, I didn't tell you because I wanted to keep hearing it once in a while. I just needed to keep it below the threshold."
"If you told me," Aziraphale said. "Then I'd have been able to help with that."
Crowley leaned forward, staring at him across the table. "If you'd known there was a risk to saying it, even a small one, would you really have ever said any of those things to me again?"
Aziraphale opened his mouth, closed it. Tried again. Grabbed his water glass and took a sip.
"Exactly," Crowley said, sitting back with a shrug. "You wouldn't have risked me anymore than I'd have risked you if the situation were reversed. So I never told you and I never planned to tell you."
"Well, I'm glad you did, because not doing so was manipulative. You should have done it sooner. Though I know we're not supposed to look at things we should have done. We did the best we could. Still. It could be, I'd have found other ways to support you after learning that one was dangerous, even if they weren't things I would normally have thought of." He reached across the table, palm up, and Crowley took his hand without having to think about it. "After all, you found endless ways to show me you appreciated me without ever saying it. I'm certain I could have developed at least a handful."
Crowley squeezed his hand and looked down at the table. That had always been a balancing act, after all, as his own words and actions were more likely to bring Hell calling than anything directed at him. With certain things, they'd have never let him back up if they didn't destroy him, and he hated that it still affected him even now. But now, at least, Aziraphale understood why.
"Well, we don't have to worry about that anymore," Crowley said as he picked up his so far untouched water glass with his free hand and held it toward Aziraphale. "You can express it however you like."
Aziraphale smiled and returned the cheers. "For the record, I love you, and think the world of you."
Crowley groaned, but he couldn't even give a token complaint about the sentimentality, not with the miracle in place. Even so, he raised Aziraphale's hand and kissed the back of it, to show he didn't mind at all, and that he did, too, even if he still couldn't say it yet.
But he should, shouldn't he? After all, it wasn't just Aziraphale who was free to express himself without worrying about catching Hell's attention. They'd hidden themselves from both sides. He could say it now, without the ground dissolving beneath his feet.
Knowing that and really believing it were two different things, however. When he looked up at Aziraphale, he saw only understanding, and he knew the angel would wait for as long as it took him to be ready. But even though they had an eternity together before them, Crowley didn't want him to have to wait that long. Just a bit more.