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* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *
It had been exactly six months since the…incident. Which meant that as much as Crowley tried to convince himself that he does not – has never - cared, was simply not true. Because despite all counter beliefs, Crowley had been drinking in Devil’s Dyke, South Downs since around noon of today with no concrete plans to stop anytime soon.
It was not out of hurt, of course. He doesn’t do hurt, or love, or forgiveness. Or simply anything involving feelings. No. He’s done that. Tried it. And he’s now able to come to the solid conclusion that anything involving feelings and emotions are simply not for a demon like him. Which was why he currently has every excuse to drown his thoughts out of his system with an expensive bottle of alcohol.
Crowley wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up in the South Downs, nor did he really care at this point. Anywhere to him was better than Aziraphale’s bookshop. Anywhere that doesn’t remind Crowley of him. Which was why when Crowley sat in his Bentley earlier today and told it to drive him anywhere, he didn’t exactly fuss about the location. Only cared that it was far away from London.
Some may try to bring up the fact that the location picked by the Bentley wasn’t an accident either. And despite some other beliefs, Crowley knew that too. But the demon decided to not dwell on this particular fact, grateful instead of being away from the warm cafés and busy streets of Soho that a year ago would have brought him all the comfort he secretly desires now.
Still, Crowley at this point in his life may argue that the very place he landed when he Fell is better than any minor reminders of Aziraphale. The memory of the physical pain and betrayal of Heaven was much easier to handle than the betrayal he felt when Aziraphale made the decision to step into that lift.
The sun was being pulled towards the horizon now, casting rays of gold and maroon across the grassy planes of the park. The sky itself was being engulfed by the oncoming darkness of nighttime, which only meant one thing to Crowley; it was only a matter of time before the stars would make an appearance. Not to Crowley though, no. His ability to see them had been long gone since the Beginning. Perhaps the reason Heaven decided to cast him out here was deliberate too. He swiftly decides to push that thought away too.
It was a cruel and unjustified punishment, Crowley knew. To take his ability to see the one thing he truly loved and cared about the most in this universe. Actually, maybe not the only thing…but did it really make a difference if they took the other thing, or to better put it: being from him as well? And how they both met the same fate: gone.
Walking towards the sunset, Crowley’s red hair was set aflame by the fireball of light. His divine being cast to become a full iridescent glow. Making it one of the few times Crowley’s status as an otherworldly being was visible to a normal mortal eye.
Sitting down onto a particularly green patch of grass, Crowley waited. Waited, watched and welcomed the oncoming darkness. Indulged in the chill that bit at his fingertips and the way his every breath let out a puff of smoke into the cold early autumn air.
His bottle appeared to be missing now. Probably for the better anyway. He needs to make it back to his Bentley in one piece at least.
To be completely honest, the Demon had absolutely no idea how much time had passed since he first arrived. Everything seemed to be a blur these days. The pristine edges of each day of the week blurred and melted together.
It was a light pair of footsteps that grabbed a hold of his attention and caused him to snap his gaze to the left of him. Because there, walking towards him, with his plump hands held delicately in front of him, was no other than Aziraphale.
Crowley’s gaze hardened, his eyebrows knitting themselves together tightly as his breaths began to come out more sharply. His chest ached and he felt as though a pair of hands grabbed a hold of his throat.
This couldn’t be normal, surely. Was the demon’s first thought. It is simply impossible for a being to feel such a large amount of emotional hurt that it manifests into physical hurt too. Is this what it was like for humans?
Watching Aziraphale step closer, Crowley’s eyes go to meet the Angel’s eyes.
Purple.
Aziraphale’s beautiful star-shaped blue eyes were now purple.
Sucking in a tight breath, he let his eyes wonder to his attire, which was nothing but a pure white suit. Not like Aziraphale at all.
The demon wanted to feel relief and a slight feeling of comfort at seeing Aziraphale again. Longed for the Angel’s warm familiarity. But that glow of softness seemed to have faded. Leaving behind a chiseled and half-finished attempt at cutting away the Angel’s softness. It was wrong. All wrong and cold and sharp.
Crowley couldn’t help the contempt he felt igniting in his gut. Not at Aziraphale, never at Aziraphale. As much as an idiot the Angel is. Aziraphale is full of nothing but kindness. Crowley’s anger was directed at Heaven. Heaven for carving Aziraphale into this. At Heaven, for stealing Aziraphale away from him and for making him into a being he is not.
But unfortunately, Crowley’s stubborn ego happened to be in control, which meant he turned his head up towards the sky. Blinking, in hope of clearing his eyes enough to watch his stars light up or to clear the cluster of tears that seemed to have resurfaced in the last few seconds.
He heard Aziraphale sit down. Felt the shift the Angel’s aura had on the atmosphere and relished in the feeling that Aziraphale himself has not changed.
Crowley said nothing though. Listening as silence stretched before them. Picking up on the fact that Aziraphale wasn’t breathing.
Of course, being immortal divine beings meant that breathing was not a burden they had to work with. Most Angels and Demons didn’t. It was only a habit he and Aziraphale picked up after the first couple of years on earth. It was a comfort, of sorts. A way of reminding themselves of their existence. It was a tool they used for staying connected with humanity and each other.
And Aziraphale wasn’t breathing.
“I hope you forgive me for the last time we met.” Aziraphale’s jittery voice cuts through Crowley’s train of thoughts.
The sentence itself takes Crowley by surprise, but it only seems to feed the fire of anger that has started up within him.
He stays silent before responding, allowing his voice to drop to its coldest and bitterest, “How am I supposed to forgive you? I thought I made it clear to you that I am unforgiveable! The very concept of forgiveness is foreign to me.” Crowley lets the words linger before throwing Aziraphale’s own words back at him, “I think that was clearly established the last time we met!”
Crowley is satisfied to see Aziraphale flinch. But along with satisfaction he doesn’t seem to feel his own wounds mending. Perhaps it was a foolish idea to think that hurting Aziraphale would mend his own.
Pushing himself up, Crowley begins to walk away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans.
He should’ve never come here. Never. He should’ve just locked himself inside of his Bentley and drove around until he was tired enough to fall sleep anywhere.
Where did he leave his bottle? He couldn’t quite remember. But it must be somewhere.
He doesn’t register Aziraphale jogging to catch up with him until he hears his voice call out, “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Aziraphale sounds desperate, hopeless. Its very concept is deeply unnerving to Crowley. Perhaps it is that which forced his legs to freeze and stand still.
He doesn’t turn around though. Still unable to let go of his stored-up anger.
“Sorry?” He bites out, hurt and fearful. “Sorry?” Crowley repeats then scoffs. “And for the record, I am not hurt. I’m a demon, I cannot be hurt.”
Aziraphale kept looking at him, frowning at how distant and dishonest Crowley was being. Crowley knew that Aziraphale didn’t believe him, but luckily for him, the Angel didn’t press the topic.
“I just want to talk, Crowley.” He decided to settle on instead.
Crowley deliberately made no move to respond and instead opted to just stand there, eyes casted upon his stars that he cannot see.
Aziraphale must’ve taken this as the cue to continue. “Crowley, you don’t understand. I had to. I had to go and work for them to make a difference. The Metatron- see the Metatron, he’s trying to help. He wants it so you can be involved too.”
Crowley only scoffs and turns further away.
Right, he thought. Help, that’s the Metatron’s speciality. Because he has helped him so much in the last few months.
“You’re a good person. I know that. The Metatron wants to help you use that good. He wants to teach you to be the Angel you were!” Aziraphale insists, daring to take a step closer to Crowley.
Crowley rounds on him instead. “The Angel you knew, is not me.” He snarls. “Ironic, isn’t it? That the place who erased that Angel is the one now begging for her to return!” Crowley says, a little more loudly than he intended before turning, once again, and walking away.
“That place! Is the complete opposite of truth. It’s all blind faith and lies! Lies, they feed naïve Angel’s like you!” He accuses, his pointed finger shaking more than he would like. “Blind faith, is what it is.”
Aziraphale’s scoff does not go unheard by Crowley. “As I previously. I’m here to offer what the Metatron has previously. For you to be an Angel and come back to work, with us. With me.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” The demon breaths a little heavily.
“Please, Crowley…I-,” Aziraphale begins before cutting himself off. “I miss you.”
Something about that sentence causes Crowley’s mask to falter as he feels his breath twitch. The demon quickly rebuilds that wall with a blink and as much as it pains him to admit, that single sentence stuns Crowley into silence as he hangs his head.
Crowley feels Aziraphale’s eyes on him, hates the way the Angel’s gaze practically burns into his skin.
Eventually, Crowley lifts his head, doing his best to avoid looking into Aziraphale’s eyes. Sitting himself back down on the grass, he listens as Aziraphale slowly follows his movements.
A tense silence stretches before them as Crowley’s eyes again, unknowingly, find themselves gazing towards the blank spots where his stars should be. Or to more accurately put it, where they are.
He lets his imagination wonder.
Does his best to remember the spot of Vega or Sirius. Curses his corrupt eyes for their lack of ability to see the faint glow of Heaven splattered across the velvet black of space. He wishes that along with the many other hurts he’s had to accept, not seeing the stars would also mend. Alas, it didn’t. And he hated that. Hated himself more for it.
A Demon should easily be able to get over something like that, right?
After what Crowley assumes is a couple of minutes, words begin to spill from him in a way he does not want it to.
“Regulus is up there somewhere.” He says as he turns to look at Aziraphale, whose eyes are now searching the sky. Watches as his eyes catch on the spot Crowley can only assume is the Leo Constellation itself.
“That one took a while to design.” The Demon remembers, eyes now back on the ground. “Wasn’t my favourite project but after months of designing and engineering, it felt rewarding to finally put it into its rightful place.”
Aziraphale is silent, his eyes only actively searching the sky.
“Capella was a fun one.” The demon allows for the smallest smile to reach the corner of his mouth before letting it drop.
He deliberately avoids the topic of Alpha Centauri. That one is too painful. And despite Aziraphale knowing of its existence, Crowley had never bothered to tell him what the star system means to him.
The Angel chooses this moment to speak up, “Well, they are all gorgeous. Possibly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.” He muses.
Crowley frowns despite the compliment. All to avoid telling Aziraphale the truth.
The truth of Crowley being damned to never see a single one ever again.
Aziraphale turns to him abruptly as he fiddles with his hands. “Come back, Crowley. Please. You can do this,” he waves his hands at the canvas of emptiness “again.”
Crowley scoffs.
“I mean it, Crowley. The Metatron is offering you a gift no other demon has been offered. He can make you into an Angel again. You can be you again!”
Crowley can’t help the flinch that wrecks through his body.
Crowley feels his fists clench and tries to keep his breathing even. He’d rather not shout at Aziraphale. Especially at something he knows the Angel doesn’t know.
“You don’t know anything.” He settles on.
“Don’t know anything? But Crowley I-I’m the one in Heaven. After getting to know the Metatron, I can say that I have misjudged him and his intentions.” Aziraphale says. “Please, you have to come back!”
“Yeah, no thanks-”
“Crowley!”
“I said no!” Crowley finally shouts, his anger getting the better of him as it usually did these days. But this time it did not give him the satisfaction of relief. All because he decided to be an idiot and shout at Aziraphale.
Aziraphale.
Heart thundering, Crowley dared a glance at the Angel and found him sitting completely still with his head bend forwards just slightly.
Great.
The guilt consuming him was indescribable. Because despite how much Aziraphale made him angry at this moment. He never meant to shout at Aziraphale.
Closing his eyes, Crowley welcomed the darkness, the guilt and regret that spread through his limbs. And deep down, Crowley knew, that beneath all the anger and hurt, he could never hate Aziraphale. And that, as much as he didn’t want to, especially right now, he had to make it up to him.
Crowley opened his eyes and studied the grass panes that fused together with the midnight sky, observing as the two colours now blurred together.
“This is the place.” Crowley murmurs with his head facing forward. Squinting as he attempts to clear his blurred vison once again. It was all futile anyway, Crowley knew. But he could never help but feel a tiny piece of hope that maybe, maybe, the darkness of the sky would clear, reflecting the luminous glow of the moon as nighttime finally opened its eyes, once again full of its ethereal glow.
Crowley felt Aziraphale shift beside him.
“Devil’s Dyke?” The Angel turned his head towards Crowley.
The Demon didn’t return his gaze, only breathed deeply, “Yep. Devil’s Dyke.” He grunted, as his body ached for him to move, do something. Anything but sit here stilly and warily.
Aziraphale was too afraid to ask the follow up question, Crowley knew. He could practically smell it on him.
Why Devil’s Dyke? He wanted to ask.
Maybe it was the dark, or the alcohol, or the fact he hasn’t seen Aziraphale in months, but Crowley’s mouth started moving before he could even think through what he wanted to say.
“Where I Fell.” He said. A simple, almost meaningless sentence that held little to no weight to most people, but to him. This was the first time in immortal life the sentence was spoken. Sent out and grounded onto the earth. Fused with the very foundation of the planet created for humans and the virtues and sins they indulge in. The Earth he secretly cares so much about. The place he has called home for over 6000 years now, finally learns the truth.
And yet, only Aziraphale was here to hear his confession.
“I never knew how close it was. To London I mean.” He continues before Aziraphale could reply.
“And I guess it makes sense. Cruelly so. “Cast the Starmaker out upon one of the most well visited places for stargazing in Britain”. Yeah, you can’t exactly fault them for that one.” Crowley added hastily to pretend his heart wasn’t stuck in his throat or that he didn’t feel the cloud of tears gathering in the corners of his vision.
“I didn’t know what to expect, obviously. It was just blurred grey edges.” And wind clawing at his eyes, he didn’t add. Screaming as fire burned at his wings, his back and torso. Wrath and guilt clawing at his chest. Envy burning through his skull towards the Angels still in the sky.
Why me? He remembered asking as pain spread through his limbs; body in the perfect limbo between the Heaven that was supposed to love and forgive him, and the Hell that will welcome him with disgust and resentment.
“I guess it was selfish,” Crowley voiced softly, mostly to himself now. “Only caring about my stars, not seeing the bigger picture of what the universe was created for. So, I was angry. Angry at God for letting this happen and at all the other Angel’s for not questioning what was so obvious.”
Taking a second to breathe and gather his thoughts, he continued. “I wanted to know more than I could. But most of all I wanted to keep the stars for myself. And so, I did things I’m not proud of up there.” His mind wouldn’t even let him name the wretched things he’s done, so he didn’t.
“Maybe. Maybe if I stopped asking the questions, things wouldn’t have escalated.”
He let that confession hang in the air between them.
Relished in the soft icy breeze now stinging his cheeks. In a special way the wind from falling could never desire to replicate.
Listened to the distant murmur of voices from the village and hoped for his vision to clear.
Could this confession have been enough?
He scoffed to himself, of course not. That would be forgiveness after all.
They sit in silence for a while, listening to the soft sounds of the forest around them. Aziraphale is fidgeting; a usual sign that he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
So, Crowley waits.
It’s just how it’s always been. Crowley knowing the Angel has something to say so he waits quietly. Waits for him to work through his thought and finish the script he’s been preparing for Heaven knows how long. Waits until he gathers the strength to tell Crowley.
The Demon doesn’t look at him though, doesn’t talk. Just waits for the soft inhale beside him before the first words are let out.
“The Metatron- He…he gave me this.” The Angel pulls out a small black leather notebook. Crowley’s eyes lock onto it.
No.
It can’t be. Surely…
Aziraphale smooths the front down softly with his hands. Caressing it like it were something sacred.
With a shaky breath, Aziraphale continues, “He gave me this, with only one task at hand.”
Crowley watches as he opens a marked page around the centre and stares at it.
“It’s a failed star system, the Metatron wants me to burn. Destroy.”
The Demons eyebrows knit together at the wavering in Aziraphale’s voice. But the Angel’s eyes are the picture of horror as he actively searches and studies the opened page.
“He told me it serves no purpose. Says it might have if it was completed. But since it never was, he told me its best it should be erased all together.” Aziraphale begins talking. “At first, I understood, “That made perfect sense”, I thought. I mean…if it was only taking up space in our galaxy then…” The Angel’s voice dies down for a few seconds. “I asked which star system it was…”
Crowley feels as his heart skips a beat and Aziraphale holds out the book for Crowley to take.
He takes it, cautiously. Afraid the leather might pick at his hands. Or perhaps disintegrate all together.
He’d haven’t seen this in over six thousand years. His breath hitches with emotion.
Looking down at the page, it was notes he had made about no other than Alpha Centauri.
“Alpha Centauri.” Aziraphale finally manages to say, with a hint of pain in his voice.
“I- I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t know much about this system, Crowley. But it means something to you.” The Angel is saying but some words are getting lost before they reach the Demon’s ear. “And I care about you.”
It felt as though a tonne of bricks had crashed into his chest all at once as he feels his eyes sting with tears behind his black glasses.
Aziraphale appears desperate, “I hope you know I’d never destroy it, Crowley. Not when it means something to you.”
But the only focus on Crowley’s mind is how hard he’s breathing and how his throat burns with every inhale he grasps at.
“So, if you want to know, that’s why I came down. To tell you. I can’t do this. Never mind without telling you.”
Crowley turns away as he swallows a sob and the first of the tears escape from his eyes.
They want to destroy Alpha Centauri.
His vision is a blur, the noises around him are out of focus, he can’t move, can’t speak, can’t-
“Crowley!”
Crowley bites back another sob and keeps his gaze averted.
They’re wanting to destroy it. He knew that it would happen, of course. Sooner or later. But even six thousand years couldn’t have prepared him for this.
In a few days, it could all be gone.
Crowley is pulled out of his thoughts by a pair of arms that wrap around him from behind.
Frozen, the Demon slowly turns to look at Aziraphale.
The Angel only gives him a sort of sad smile, eyes full of sorrow before he reaches up to the sides of his face, “May I?”
Crowley nods as Aziraphale slowly lifts the glasses from his eyes. Shame rises from within him and takes its form as his cheeks reddens.
He couldn’t begin to imagine the state he looks like right now. Swollen tear-stained eyes and disrelished hair.
The two immortal beings stare at each other for a while. Aziraphale now holding Crowley’s glasses and Crowley staring at Aziraphale. Closer than they had been in months. A part of Crowley screamed at him to say no, to keep his shield on and his vulnerability tucked away. But he ignored it, possibly for the first time.
Time paused around them before Aziraphale suddenly pulled Crowley into another hug. This time long and gentle. Love seemed to be radiating off of Aziraphale’s being.
And there they sat, clinging onto one another like a lifeline. With Crowley sobbing and Aziraphale holding him together. Because no matter how hard forces tried to separate them, the universe always found ways to pull them right back together.
After Crowley’s sobs began to slow down, they sat back down on the grass, listening to each other breathing.
Gathering his thoughts, Crowley knew he had to tell Aziraphale. He owed him that much.
Waving his hand around, he avoids Aziraphale’s gaze, “This is where I hit the ground when I Fell. Devil’s Dyke.”
His words are bitter and hard but he feels as though he’s being suffocated by his own tears.
A soft pair of hands settle over his on the grass.
Crowley suddenly looks up to find a particular Angel placing his hand upon his. The Angel’s hand on top, Crowley’s on the bottom. But what really mattered is that they met in the middle, conjoined and blurred together. Just as God intended for them to.
“It was their idea”, The Demon found the strength to continue but he didn’t sound like himself. His words were wavering. “To cast me out. Swore I was a danger to Heaven.” He didn’t need to say who they were.
“So no, I don’t want to go back. Not to a place that didn’t think twice about casting me out. If it meant they couldn’t dictate my decisions.”
Aziraphale breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, Crowley. I’m sorry about what happened to you. And I’m sorry about the way they treated you.”
Crowley felt Aziraphale intertwine their fingers ever so gently.
Feeling a tear roll down his cheek, Crowley looked away.
“I can’t see them.” He said, voice now breaking. “The stars. I can’t see them.”
He turned to look at Aziraphale just in time to see the meaning register in his eyes. Saw the moment his heart broke. The moment he realised what they did to him. The punishment they cast down along with him.
In turn, Crowley trembled and fumbled for more words. Words to say. Perhaps joke it off?
But he couldn’t. His chest now rising and falling much faster than it usually did. The truth of what he kept to himself since the Beginning now flowing free from him.
He was losing control of his whole body. Nothing he’d ever experienced before. It felt like falling deeper and deeper, only this time there was no solid ground to welcome him and split his skin and bones.
Feeling Aziraphale squeeze his hands he pushed on.
“I knew I’d done wrong. Knew I was not meant to. But I…didn’t expect the consequences. And so, when they called me to meet with the Metatron…” The words die in his throat as another tear comes crusading down his cheek.
“He told me I was a violation against God’s Will. That my very existence threatened Heaven. Told me all of this could have been avoided if I’d just stopped asking my damned questions.”
Tilting his head back against the tears, Crowley finally said it. “And before I knew it, I was Falling.”
The Demon turns to see surprised the clutter of tears on Aziraphale’s cheeks too, and so, he squeezes his hand back. Hoping to convey that it was all okay. Which it wasn’t. But he’s made his peace with it now. So much so, that he has felt that golden tether to Heaven slowly break over the millennia.
“I missed it. For so long, all the time. Not Heaven. But the stars. I wanted them back. But most of all I wanted to finish Alpha Centauri.”
Aziraphale sucks in a small breath and Crowley feels the unasked question on his lips.
He needs to teach his Angel not to be afraid to ask questions, sometime. Afterall, questions aren’t sinful or bad. They’re only human.
“I started designing it a bit after we met actually.” Crowley says and turns his head to see the puzzles click in Aziraphale’s mind. It feels him with a type of delight that his lips threaten a twitch.
“A Binary System. Two stars that orbit around each other due to mutual gravity.” Crowley explains, leaning back on one of his hands. “It reminded me of you, of us. I didn’t know the feeling at the time, but…” The Demon finishes quickly and trails off.
“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighs and takes his hand in his.
Crowley only sucks in a breath and tries to bury the pain this phrase brings up.
“I can’t go back to Heaven. I don’t want to go back to Heaven.” Crowley grits out, letting some of his disgust burn at the words in his mouth.
“Oh, Crowley. No- They don’t deserve you. Heaven doesn’t deserve you. They never did.”
That snaps Crowley’s attention to the Angel’s.
What? What’s that supposed to mean?
Aziraphale left him for Heaven, wanted Crowley to come, to make him into an Angel again so that he’d be what Aziraphale wants him to be.
Aziraphale only sadly shakes his head. “I didn’t think- I didn’t know-”
“I just thought- you’d want to see them again. See the stars again. I never thought-” The Angel says with tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Please forgive me.” He says, hanging his head.
Crowley only stares wide eyed.
He’d thought-
“No-” he says and pulls Aziraphale back to him, holding the Angel tight against him, hands fiddling with his soft white curls. “It’s not like that.”
“Please forgive me.” The Angel pleads.
The Demon sighs, “Of course I forgive you, Angel. Always.”
“I should’ve known. I should’ve listened. When the Metatron started talking about The Second Coming, I should’ve known.”
Crowley only shakes his head. “No, you couldn’t have. You just wanted to help. Wanted to do what’s right. That’s what you always do.”
Aziraphale pulls back to look Crowley in the eyes, “I wanted to make Heaven worthy of you.”
Time freezes. His breathing stops. It’s all quiet and still in the universe.
It’s just them.
Two stupid beings who wanted what’s best for the other without telling the other what that something is.
And its all clicking into place.
“Angel-”
“I mean it. I wanted to reform Heaven to make it worthy of you.” He shakes his head doubtfully. “I should’ve known I couldn’t. They don’t have even an ounce of what you have Crowley.”
Feeling his heart swell, Crowley breathes for what seems like the first time in months. And wonders if Aziraphale feels the same way.
“The Second Coming, Crowley. It must be stopped. They want to end it all again. End the Earth with everyone on it.” Aziraphale says studying Crowley’s face before continuing. “Like I said, this trip. It was a pain to get a hold of. They wouldn’t let me come down to you. I wanted to warn you about this. But I knew the only good that came along with such a grand mistake was my position and what it gave me. I know things, Crowley. And we can work this out. All I’m asking is for you to help me-”
“Of course I’ll help you Angel-”
Aziraphale holds up a hand, “But I must stay up there. I have already managed to gather a small group of Angel’s who are willing to help. But you need to do the same here. Ask our friends for help. Anathema, Newt, Madam Tracy-”
Crowley scoffs, “They’re not our friends.”
Aziraphale rolls his eyes, “What I’m trying to say is I’m playing the spy.”
Crowley is momentarily stunned before he smiles bigger than he ever believed he’s capable of. His face lighting up with life for the first time in months. Oh, how much he loves his Angel in moments like this.
“I’ll come visit more frequently. I promise.” Aziraphale continues. “But Crowley can you work with me?”
Crowley is still smiling. “Angel, is that even a question?”
The Angel rolls his eyes again, exasperated, before he looks down, a little sad this time. “I must go soon, I’m afraid. But I promise, Crowley. I’ll come back to you. No matter what.”
He’s not able to respond as Aziraphale only stands up and holds a hand out, ready to pull him up. Which Crowley gratefully accepts but slightly stumbles. Must still be the alcohol.
“My dear, please take care of yourself. And sober up. Especially before you drive. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if you discorporate yourself.”
This time, it’s Crowley who pulls Aziraphale into the hug as he chuckles, “I promise, Angel.” And Aziraphale relaxes in his arms.
Those with the perceptive eye might still be wondering about one thing.
What about Aziraphale’s purple eyes?
Well, it’s safe to say that the reddish tint that covered the blues of his eyes faded just as quick as Crowley forgave him.
Of course, they still have a lot to confess. Never mind saving the world, again.
But now, they’re talking. And this time they’re giving all their conjoined love for the whole world.
* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *