Work Text:
As cars, pedestrians, blue cafes, and maroon book shops passed by the windows of the zooming black Bentley, he couldn’t help but watch the driver. Eyes covered in black sunglasses, burning red hair, long past their shoulders, uncharacteristically focused on the road. As he studied the features of his longtime companion, Aziraphale noticed they tensed up each time he looked over.
“I- I’m sorry I left for Heaven, Crowley… I thought it would keep us safe.”
Crowley’s face stayed pointed at the road, the Bentley speeding up with each word Aziraphale uttered, almost as if he had practiced it time and time again, not wanting to hurt the one he’s admired again.
“I was wrong, Heaven can’t be changed. I realized that years ago, I just couldn’t get out until now,” Aziraphale was getting nervous. Although he planned for his dear to be mad, he didn’t expect to be ignored completely.
“Please, Crowley, say something! I deserve whatever venom you have. I left you here after that awful night.”
For the first time in years, Crowley turned to face Aziraphale, finally seeing the beard, the dark and sullen eyes that have lost their sparkle, and the pleading face he’d so longed to see again. “I have nothing to say. You left, now you want to come running back without experiencing the consequences of your actions. I’m tired of this game, Aziraphale.” The word cut deep in them both, neither used to the feel of it, neither wanting to accept it as the new normal.
After a shaky breath, Aziraphale felt his eyes fill with tears and his unfeeling façade crumble. As he tried to cover his heartbreak, the angel muttered: “Very well. I will be on my way. If you could stop the car so I can get out, that would be appreciated.”
He hoped, prayed even, that Crowley wouldn’t stop the car, that they would finally have a meaningful talk and get past all the bitterness and go back to how it was before he left. “Muriel is expecting you back at the shop, I’ll stop there.” Words so sharp and cold, you could almost see the knife plunged in Aziraphale’s heart.
The rest of the trip was silent, Aziraphale kept his eyes looking outside the window, not daring instigate another bout of Crowley’s wrath. The not-demon’s demeanor did not change, not when spitting venom, not when driving, and certainly not when Aziraphale got out of the car and thanked him for the ride. Only when the angel was inside the bookshop and out of sight, did Crowley break down.
He wished to embrace the angel, promise him everything would be alright and stay by his side until the end of time, and then some more. But when he turned to his angel, the shining purple of his eyes stopped him from giving away anything. He knew that when Gabriel escaped Heaven, his eyes returned to normal. Crowley refused to believe that Aziraphale’s purple eyes meant nothing.