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Washington, D.C.
1935
As he approached the U.S. Capitol Building, Crowley thought he must be hallucinating. The man in the beige suit leaving the building couldn’t really be Aziraphale.
Could he?
It was Aziraphale!
Crowley hadn’t seen him since 1862. Since Aziraphale had refused to get him holy water. Since the angel had worried that Heaven would punish him for “fraternizing” with a demon.
So Crowley had kept his distance. He’d tried to pretend that he wasn’t terribly lonely, but it turned out that he was better at deceiving others than he was at deceiving himself.
Aziraphale was coming closer and closer.
Crowley had to say something!
He wanted to tell his angel that he had missed him, and it was good to see him, and they should travel back to London together and Crowley would give him a ride in his new car.
What he actually said was: “Angel, what are you doing here?”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s face softened for a few moments before he remembered that Crowley was supposed to be his adversary. “What are YOU doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m here because Frances Perkins, President Roosevelt’s Secretary of Labor, has been praying most fervently for help. How much do you know about what’s been happening in America recently?”
“I know about the stock market crash, the banks collapsing. Millions of people losing their savings, their jobs, their homes. A once prosperous nation plunged into despair. I told Hell I was responsible.”
“Of course you did. Well, Frances has devoted herself to improving the lives of those impoverished millions. My assignment is to influence members of Congress to support Frances’s proposal for a social security program. And yours?”
Crowley sighed. “They want me to convince Congress to reject social security. Because desperate people are more likely to commit sins that will pave their way to Hell.”
“Like Elspeth digging up bodies to sell so she wouldn’t starve. I wonder what happened to that young woman after our encounter with her. Did she really buy a farm, or did she go back to her old—”
“She really bought a farm,” Crowley said with a grin. “I had an assignment in Edinburgh in 1864 and I thought I’d check up on her. She was living with another woman and their kids, orphans they’d adopted to help them run the farm. They all seemed happy. Your money saved Elspeth’s life—and her soul.”
Aziraphale blushed and smiled. “I never would have given Elspeth that money without your...” He paused as a few senators walked around them. “Your demonic intervention. We saved her together.”
“Yeah. We make a good team.”
Aziraphale’s smile disappeared. “We’re not supposed to be a team. We’re on opposite sides! My side wants social security to happen, and yours doesn’t. But the American people need Frances’s program, Crowley. Maybe you could...not do your best work?”
“I always do my best work...according to my official reports, anyway. Between you and me, I’m not going to try hard on this one. I’ve seen the tents in the streets. The families in dirty clothes begging. Kids and old people looking through trash cans for food.” Crowley had miracled some sandwiches for the ones who looked close to death, but he couldn’t do too many good deeds without risking Hell’s wrath. “If Frances can help those people, I won’t get in her way.”
Aziraphale couldn’t hide his happiness. “Will you have dinner with me? Or drinks?”
“You’re not worried that Heaven will find out about your ‘fraternizing’?”
“I’m a little worried. But...” Aziraphale lowered his voice. “I’ve missed you. I’ve been missing you for 73 years, and I don’t want to miss you for a moment longer.”
“I’ve missed you too, Angel. Let’s get dinner.” Crowley had never liked human foods as much as he liked their alcohol, but he wouldn’t pass up a chance to watch Aziraphale enjoy a meal.
It took them a long while to reach the restaurant Aziraphale suggested because he kept stopping to give money to anyone who looked like they needed it.
“God bless you, sir,” said a woman holding a baby in her arms while a skinny toddler hugged her leg. “You’re an angel!”
Crowley smiled. “He really is.”
A few days later, thanks to Aziraphale’s enthusiasm and Crowley’s...lack of enthusiasm, social security got all the support it needed. The angel and the demon returned to London together and decided a celebration was in order.
After dining and drinking at the Ritz, they went to Aziraphale’s bookshop and drank some more.
“I should probably sober up and drive home,” Crowley said when the grandfather clock struck midnight. His speech was slurred, but Aziraphale, having known him for thousands of years, understood his meaning.
“No!” Aziraphale put his drink down so suddenly that it spilled on a table. “I don’t want you to.”
“You don’t want me to sober up? You want me to drive home while I’m intox...intoxic...drunk?”
“Of course I don’t want you to drive drunk! I want you to stay. With me. You could sleep on the couch or...I have a bedroom upstairs.” Aziraphale was blushing furiously. What would Heaven think if they knew he’d invited a demon into his bed? Maybe it was newfound courage, or maybe it was the alcohol, but Aziraphale realized he didn’t care what Heaven thought. He’d denied himself the pleasure of Crowley’s company for far too long.
“This seems like a conversation I should be sober for.” Crowley purged the alcohol from his corporation. “I’ll sleep in the bed, Angel. On one condition.”
Aziraphale also sobered up. “And that is?”
“You share the bed with me.”
When Aziraphale hesitated, Crowley worried he’d gone too far. But, after a few moments, Aziraphale said, “I accept your terms. Maybe...before we fall asleep...we could try...cuddling? I’ve read about it in books and it sounds quite lovely.”
“I’m pretty sure demons aren’t supposed to cuddle.” Seeing Aziraphale’s face fall, Crowley added, “Then again, I’ve never been a very good demon.”
Once he was in Aziraphale’s bedroom, Crowley miracled himself into black pajamas with small golden buttons.
“You look...very nice,” Aziraphale said, miracling himself into golden pajamas with small black buttons.
“So do you.”
They looked at each other for several seconds, each feeling slightly nervous, before climbing into Aziraphale’s four poster bed.
“I should have known you’d have tartan sheets,” Crowley teased.
“I could change them if you—”
“Don’t change them. If they make you happy, that’s all that matters.”
“What would make me happy right now...is to hold you. Is that okay?”
Crowley moved closer to Aziraphale and wrapped his arms around his angel. Aziraphale hugged him in return.
Neither spoke for a few minutes as they relaxed in each other’s embrace. Eventually Crowley broke the silence. “So...is cuddling as good as you thought it would be?”
“No.”
“No?”
Aziraphale grinned. “It’s even better than I imagined. Are you enjoying it?”
“Yeah. I’ve never done this before, but it feels...good. I understand now why humans like hugging so much.” Crowley yawned. “I guess I should try to sleep. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Good night, my dear. I hope you have sweet dreams.”
Crowley laughed bitterly. “I’ve never had sweet dreams. I dream about falling from Heaven. Or Hell torturing me. Or...on really bad nights...losing you.”
Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s forehead. “If you have those awful dreams tonight, I shall do my best to comfort you when you wake up.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Feeling safe for the first time in a very long time, Crowley closed his eyes.
Aziraphale kept his eyes open, wanting to savor the moment. How fortunate he was to have Crowley back in his life! As he watched his best friend sleep, he whispered, “I think I love you.”
Crowley smiled in his sleep. “Love you too, Angel.”