Chapter Text
31 Oct 2022
Crowley stood in the drawing room of Arcadia Manor. He’d been in England for eight days, four hours, thirty three minutes and 2 seconds: avoiding London and Aziraphale. Returning to Whickber Street would be difficult, for both of them. Agnes had mentioned events that would signal the start of everything. He continued walking through the rooms. The manor would serve his plans as a retreat when…when…
He glanced upwards. “Don’t say it's ineffable.”
First he would finish his tour of the manor, then the grounds, then work on strengthening the wards.
Aziraphale. His Angel, his…he didn’t let that thought continue. They weren’t together, they weren’t involved. He stopped and stood there for a minute before he let himself continue with his tasks. About now, Aziraphale would be making a list of what needed to be done.
Demons don’t make lists, they make contracts. Deals with the devil and all that.
He needed a drink.
***
One week before Season 2
2 Nov 2022
Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as he heard the familiar roar of the Bentley’s motor. Crowley was home. There was a screech of brakes, then the sound of the car door slamming. Outside of a few postcards, some telephone calls, and six bottles of a very nice red wine and two bottles of an excellent whiskey; they’d not communicated much in the time Crowley had been travelling. He took several deep calming breaths and stood.
“Hello, Angel. I’m back,” that oh so familiar voice said as the door flung open, but Crowley didn’t enter. His glasses were in place. Oh, how Aziraphale missed…Stop that, he thought to himself.
“I can see that.” Aziraphale somehow managed to stay in one spot, it had been too long since he’d seen the demon. He wanted…
“You're looking well. You okay?”
“Tickety boo. How have you been?”
“Good. Fine.” Crowley still remained in the doorway. “The coffee shop is new.”
“Yes, it just opened. How was America?”
“They’re weird. Wish…” Crowley shrugged. “It’s good to see you.”
“Come in.” Aziraphale looked around, trying not to stare at the Demon. “I have wine.”
“Probably shouldn’t.” Crowley finally smiled, it was a sad smile. “I’ll get my stuff and get going. Illusions to create and all that.”
“Illusions, yes. Crowley…” Aziraphale started fidgeting with his hands. “I…ummm…Illusions.” There was a longer silence. “I missed you.”
“Don’t Angel. We can’t…” Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I know.” He knew all too well. “Welcome back to London.” Aziraphale reached into the pocket dimension he’d put Crowley’s hibernating plants. “Let them wake up slowly. By Tuesday they should be their cheery selves again.” The plants appeared on the floor between them.
“If they know what is good for them, they will be thriving by Monday.” Crowley walked over to the first plant. “Hello there.” He bent down and touched a leaf. “Thanks Aziraphale, they look well.”
Crowley snapped his fingers, and the plants were moved to the backseat of the Bentley. “Well…See you around?”
“Of course.” Aziraphale watched as Crowley drove away. He didn’t move for a number of minutes.
“I see your friend is back,” Maggie said from the doorway.
“We’re not…friends.”
“Oh. I thought. Never mind. How about some coffee? Nina makes…”
“I’ll have tea.” Aziraphale stared after the Bentley for a couple more seconds. “Tea. An excellent idea.” He wanted alcohol, copious amounts of alcohol, but the prophecies were afoot and he needed to think. He needed to remain sober.