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“While these relationships are still in the early stages, they have the potential to grow and develop into something deeply fulfilling and rewarding in the long-term.” -Biddy Tarot
Aziraphale trembled as the last aftershocks rolled beneath him, trying to stay upright as he consoled the confused humans huddled behind him.
In the distance, from under the rubble, a dusty figure stumbled towards him. As he approached, Aziraphale recognized familiar red hair through the grime and plaster.
“I should have known this was your handiwork! Destroying their beautiful tower!”
“Not mine!” Crowley coughed and glanced around, hissing, “Someone on your side pulled the trigger this time. Felt like an archangel’s smiting. Or do you want me to round up some paperwork for you to verify?”
Aziraphale frowned, Crowley’s words ringing true even as he would like to believe otherwise.
“But why would Heaven want to destroy the Tower?”
“Eh, didn’t like humans getting too close. And cursed them with foreign tongues so they won’t try again.”
Aziraphale looked at the humans, shouting and arguing with each other. “They — they don’t understand each other?”
“No.”
“But I can understand them!”
“Yeah, apparently we can speak any human language now.” Crowley looked around. “Anywhere we can sit? It’s been a long day…”
Aziraphale hesitated only a moment before leading Crowley to his tent, clearing space on the carpet for them to sit. “But how is this going to help them achieve Her plan?”
“Don’t suppose it will.” Crowley waved his hand, two glasses and a jug of wine appearing.
“I really shouldn’t…” Aziraphale protested weakly. It was one thing to have dined with the enemy, but drinking together — surely that would count as fraternizing.
Crowley poured two glasses, offering one to Aziraphale. “Look, we’ve both spent the day trying to save as many humans as we could from the worst disaster of their limited existence. If you haven’t tried wine yet, trust me, today is a good day to start.”
With a sigh, Aziraphale accepted the cup and took a tentative sip, the liquid warming his insides as it calmed his mind. He studied the demon before him, a demon who shouldn’t be here. Certainly shouldn’t have been saving humans. He noticed the frayed, torn hem of his robe.
“I could—” he gestured “—miracle that up for you?”
“Nah, ‘s fine. Convince Hell I was in the thick of it. Evoking hubris, fomenting discord, that sort of thing.” He met Aziraphale’s eyes. “Appearances to uphold.”
“Indeed.” Aziraphale took another, much longer drink.
“You know,” Crowley reclined, “we could work together. I mean, unless you want more of—” waving his hand towards the devastation.
Aziraphale shuddered. “Of course I don’t! But I’m not joining your side! And you’ve made it clear you’re not joining mine!”
“Course we’re still on our sides! But we could be on the same page. Help them have a fighting chance?”
Aziraphale pondered into his surprisingly full cup. “We have worked together before…”
Crowley nodded. “Job. Saved his children.”
“And…Before.” Aziraphale held his breath.
But there was only a small sigh before Crowley answered. “The nebula…”
Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “You do remember?”
“How could I forget?” Crowley shifted and the entire room felt more intimate. “Weren’t many angels I could talk to like that.”
“Indeed. I would say there aren’t any angels I could talk to about this.”
“And yet here we are. The two of us.”
“Just lending humans a helping hand.”
“A helping hand,” Crowley agreed.
“I suppose I can drink to that, then,” Aziraphale smiled, raising his cup as Crowley tipped his to meet it. “To new beginnings!”
“To new beginnings.” Crowley watched him for a moment before emptying his own cup. He stood up and dusted his hands off. “I better get going, they’ll be expecting my report.” He paused in the doorway. “I’ll see you around, angel.”
Something warmed in Aziraphale’s stomach, and — though he blamed the wine — he found himself wondering when exactly he might see Crowley again…