Chapter Text
Crowley was back, he had been gone for weeks but found that no matter where he went, he just ended up in London. So, he decided to find a way to stay, to try to pick up the pieces. Even if it seems impossible, he thinks on that sentiment a bit, realizing that the bookshop has always been his home, at least it was when Aziraphale was there. It hurts like hell to come to understand that it was less the space and more who occupied it.
Going through the motions, he decides to help Muriel turn the bookshop into a proper, book selling book shop. He moves the angel’s collection to the back to keep it safe (ever the optimist, hoping one day the angel will be back), and begins to order newer books to sell up front. Muriel has been isolated for centuries, and she seems to enjoy humans, so why not help her be happy. At least one of them can be.
Crowley decided he would go to sleep that night, he had grown bored, and sleeping was a good way as any to pass the time. Tonight, as he let his mind relax and slide off into whatever dreams it could conjure, he swears he heard the angel call his name. At first, he ignored it and settled back into the dream, but then he heard it more clearly and it woke him fully. After sitting in bed for a while thinking about how to avoid the angel being able to contact him, he decided that he would just stay awake. He was a demon, he didn’t actually need sleep, he just liked it. But Aziraphale’s presence had turned that activity sour.
But then his phone began to ring. He looked the first time and saw it was Aziraphale, and he let it go to voicemail, but when the box became full of his voice that the demon would not entertain, he turned it off. He didn’t want to talk to him, ever again. He was hurt and wasn’t sure that anything between them was salvageable, not anymore.
He got a few days of reprieve after turning his phone off. He had spent time with Nina, Maggie and even Muriel. He had also told them over lunch that he had been looking to open a botanical shop, that he wanted to do something he enjoyed now that he was finally free. They had all shared their excitement and support and helped him begin the search for the perfect storefront. But then the angel inserted himself into his life again, as Crowley drove the Bentley to look at a shop for sale the radio began to speak in the angel’s voice, and he promptly turned it off. When the angel found a way to turn it back on all he heard was “Crowley.” Before he slammed on the brakes, turned off the car and walked the rest of the way saying to the Bentley “Et, tu?”.
Crowley stopped taking his car, he took the bus, or the tube or even his own two legs if the journey wasn’t far. He had tried a taxi once, but Aziraphale had found him.
Strangely, the less that Crowley used his devices, the more he began to feel like himself again. He was just able to be, to find joy where he could and not feel the weight of expectations hanging on his shoulders. Then one morning Muriel came blazing into the shop with a piece of paper in her hands and more excitement that her body could contain.
“Hey kid, could you turn the lights down just a bit?’ he said shading his eyes with his hand. He had learned that they would glow when excited or overstimulated and while it did not burn him as holy light could, it still hurt his eyes.
‘Oh yes, sorry.” She closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths to calm herself before opening her eyes and shoving the paper in his direction.
“Look! This is the place! Mr. Crowley, it’s perfect!” she smiled as she bounced on her toes with her hands clasped in front of her. That behavior had taken him a long time to get used to as it was a very Aziraphale coded thing. But he had grown to like Muriel and so he had learned to be endeared by it instead of upset.
He took the paper and looked at it. “Hmm. Looks nice from the outside. And it’s just down the road a bit.” He slid his sunglasses on and said, “Shall we go have a proper look then?’
“Oh yes! It is going to be perfect; I just know it!’
With that the duo left the shop and walked together, Muriel happily telling him about her morning, she had attended her new book club and the book they were now reading was one of her favorites. She had told him that there was a boy there that she had begun to talk to as he had now come several weeks in a row.
“A boy?” Crowley asked, having just now caught up with the conversation.
‘Yeah, his name is Erik. I don’t think he is human. Not an angel, but he doesn’t feel evil either. Feels kinds of like you, really. A bit of both, but not too much of either. He is really smart, and we have great discussions. Anyway, I asked him to coffee next week before the meeting.” She stopped mid-thought and looked at the building before her.
“This is it. My. Crowley isn’t it great?” she looked at him before opening the door.
They walked in together and the seller met them inside. They went through the tour and Crowley could already see the potential design for his shop. He smiled and nudged the angel beside him ‘You did good kid. This is indeed perfect. Whatdaya say we make a deal?”
She nodded and watched as Crowley inquired about price, the seller quoted the rent price and Crowley said, “I am more interested in purchasing. I understand there is a flat for sale above here, yes? I’d like to know if it is possible to purchase the building.”
The seller made a few calls and came back saying “Mr. Crowley the owners of the building have graciously accepted your offer; they sounded happy to make both in a single sale. How about we sing some papers?”
They signed and as she stood, she said “Here you are” handing him keys, “Oh! I nearly forgot, there is a small car park around back, big enough for two cars, sold as part of the building.”
“Excellent.” He said, walking her to the door so she would leave.
“Well, I am now a shopkeeper. Where do I start. I guess I will need to get my things from the bookshop.” He felt a pang of sadness at the prospect of not living in the bookshop anymore. But Aziraphale wasn’t coming back, and staying there would never change that. It was time.
‘I’m so glad that this place is so close, I would miss you terribly if you were far. I think everyone else would too. You really have become integral to happiness here on Whickber street. Probably more so than even Mr. Fe…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….I know you don’t want to talk about him.” She said, eyes downcast.
Crowley lifted her chin to look at him and said “Hey, none of that now. I know I have been impossible, but you have done nothing wrong by mentioning Aziraphale. I have been missing him; I have a feeling I always will. But I have others in my life that I don’t have to miss, because they are there, now. Like you! Come on, let’s go tell Maggie and Nina the good news.
They celebrated into the night inside the bookshop, not knowing that there was an angel longingly looking down on them, desperately wanting to be a part of such joy, but knowing that he couldn’t give up. If he gave up now, this would all be for naught. The world that Crowley was finally finding his footing in would not be around for long if he didn’t find a way to talk to the demon. He knew that he couldn’t stop this alone, and Crowley was always the clever one, he needed him, he hadn’t lied that day. Well not about that, he had lied when he forgave him. His lips had nearly betrayed him when the “I love you.” Almost slipped out. He said the only other thing he could say “I forgive you.” And he watched as he left, his shattered heart laying in pieces on the floor like a broken mirror of their lives, reflecting their love back at him angry with rejection. Aziraphale had to find the courage to tell him the truth of that day, and of what he now knows of heaven, even if it means that Crowley still won’t help him. He has to be ok with whatever answer he gets; he just hopes that he can at least get him to stop hanging up on him. The saddest angel in heaven closed the window and turned back to his work, leaving the group to their celebration.
In the bookshop Muriel glanced at Crowley as they sensed the viewing window closed. As the proprietor of the shop now, they had learned to listen to that chime, wanting to know when heaven was looking, or if Aziraphale needed something. He had contacted them a few times now, but mostly looking for Crowley, who they would say wasn’t there, even if he was just asleep upstairs. They owed the demon that much, so they did a miracle when he was out one day, to allow him entry but to hide him from view if Heaven called. Crowley had been a wreck for a long time after he finally came back, and he had still treated them like a person, and while he hadn’t asked, she invited him to stay, she knew he didn’t have a home because hell had taken that too. They wanted him to feel at home in the bookshop.
And so that is how Crowley and Muriel came to be roommates. And now they were celebrating his new chapter, and while that would take him from the bookshop on an everyday basis, it didn’t take him far and he promised to still visit all the time.
Raising her glass, Nina said “To the newest Trader and Shopkeeper of Whickber street! May your plants be as brilliant as you!” they all clinked glasses and Crowley felt himself blush.
Muriel was grateful that he had not seemed to notice the buzz of the viewport closing, or if he did, he didn’t think anything of it. If she ever got another call from Aziraphale she would have to let him know that he had finally found some peace, and it was likely best that he did not disturb it without the direst of circumstances. She found it comforting to feel a sense of protectiveness over Mr. Crowley.
The next morning Crowley went to the supply store to get paint, brushes, rollers, and drop cloth and he bought a nice radio to listen to while he painted, then he loaded up the Bentley and drove to his shop for the first time as the new owner. He set his shopping down and looked around. He could see it now, shelves full of plants, plants hanging all over, and he even had a great spot for his poison plant section. He had contemplated having a small book selection, plant care of course, so he would have information to give to customers who may not have much experience. He covered the floor with the drop cloth, tied his hair up out of his face and proceeded to open the paint tins. At the end of the day, he admired how the setting sun shown in the front window, that meant that the shop was not subject to the crisp morning light or the unfiltered sun in the heat of the day. He closed up the paint tin and rinsed the brushes and had just come back from the room where the mop sink was when he heard the door open.
“Wow! This looks very nice.” Said Nina, standing there, two coffee cups in hand. “Just closed up and thought maybe you’d like this.” She said handing the six shots in a big cup over.
“Oh! Thanks.” He said after taking a grateful sip. He turned to her and said, ‘that wall, is where the mural is going.” He said pointing at a wall that was such dark gray that it was almost black. It contrasted nicely to the lighter shades on various walls.
‘What are you gonna paint?” she asked as they leaned against the ledge by the front window, their backs against the warm glass.
“A garden blooming at night. The sky filled with stars, even thought about a nebula in the corner over there. Just for some color.” He smiled, proud of his idea.
“Eden at night, eh? I like it. And with your skill, it will no doubt be beautiful.” She sipped thoughtfully for a moment then said, “Given any thought to what you are going to call this place yet?”
Crowley nearly choked on his coffee when it dawned on him that he hadn’t thought of one yet. “Actually, I hadn’t. Kind of hoped it would just sort of name itself.”
“Yeah, that’s how the best ones happen. That’s how my shop got its name.” She stood, depositing her empty cup in the bin and turned to the demon. “Let’s get out of here. Maggie is making dinner and Muriel is bringing Erik to meet us all, and we aren’t an ‘us’ if we aren’t all there” the poked him in the chest to emphasize the all.
“Ok, ok, let’s not keep them waiting. Can I hold a shot gun when he comes in? I saw it in a movie once when a girl brought home the boy.” He smiled his most pleasing smile.
“No. Absolutely not. And be nice, she says this kid is super shy and she doesn’t want him to be too afraid to come back.”
Groaning with his whole body he said “Fiiiine! I’ll behave. Mostly”
At dinner Crowley got over his shock very quickly at seeing how kind the demon was to Muriel, and how much the angel lit up when she was with him. They ate and drank and talked about their days and Nina leaned into Maggie as Muriel retold a story about how Erik had loved the same parts of a book the club had read as they did and that is how it all started.
Later, when Muriel and Erik found themselves sitting together on the floor, reading, Maggie was seated in a chair watching as Nina and Crowley spoke in the back having gone to clean up dinner.
“If that young angel and demon can find a way, why can’t you and Mr. Fell figure it out? I know you love him. What could he have done that was so bad that you can’t even talk to him?” she said in as gentle a tone as she could.
Crowley huffed in frustration as he dried the plate he had been handed. “First off, that young angel and demon are thousands of years old, second, they haven’t been through everything Aziraphale and I have, and he didn’t abandon her when she showed interest. I professed my love, and he still chose heaven over ‘us’. I kissed him, Nina! And for one beautiful moment his hand held me, and then he pulled away and told me he forgave me and then fucked off to heaven. He even looked back, I, like some lovesick fool was waiting, hoping he would change his mind. He looked back and then got on that lift and left me here. So, what part of that should I dismiss in order to feel ok even speaking to him?” He leaned against the counter waiting for her to respond.
She stood there, hands in the water, chewing the inside of her cheek in thought before saying, “But he has tried to contact you, many times, and you’re not even curious to find out why? What if he is in trouble?”
Crowley deflated, “Nina, he only ever calls when he wants something, and if he is in trouble, it is his own doing. I have been rescuing him for centuries, but not this time. I can’t rescue him from this. Not this time.” He said sadly, not wanting to think about never seeing Aziraphale again but if he wanted to see him, he would have to be the one to come to him.
‘I guess I can understand that.” That was all she said as she handed him the last cup and pulled to plug to let the water drain.
The conversation came to a close and they rejoined the others to spend the remainder of the evening chatting.
The next day saw Crowley rise early and go to his new shop to begin work on the mural. His hair tied back and wearing a pair of dungarees with a little duck on the front pocket, he used a white pencil to begin sketching. He spent the day getting it all lined up and ready to begin painting the next day. Standing and gathering up his supplies, he smiled as he locked the front door. He was looking forward to that week, his furniture for the flat upstairs would be delivered in a few days, and he was already thinking about where he would move it all.
It had been three weeks and Crowley had not heard from the angel again. He was living in the flat above his new shop and was nearly done with the mural. There were shelves set up and plant hangers awaiting new plants, the planting room had been set up and a small greenhouse had been set up on his rooftop to take advantage of the summer. He was standing at the mural adding touches of color to various parts of the tree and a few of the flowers. He had been toying with the idea of adding a snake tucked in the tree, and today he sketched the body where it would be hidden mostly save for its forked tongue touching one of the apples, a nod to being the serpent of Eden. The name of the shop had been decided as well “From Eden” and Nina had done a fabulous job painting the name above the door to the shop and beautiful blue background, black letters with golden accents. Maggie had taken a photo of them standing in front after she had finished, and that evening they had taken a larger group picture with Nina, Maggie, Muriel and Erik standing on either side of the demon, all proudly smiling at their friend’s success, and Crowley had both photos hanging up behind the counter as well as in his flat arranged to several others taken over the years, and in his room, in a drawer was a photo that he would never admit to making a copy of. It was the only photo of him and the angel, taken in 1941.
As Crowley put the finishing touches on the serpent’s face the radio went all static-y and he started to turn it off, not immediately recognizing that someone was attempting to connect with him. His fingers stopped just shy of the power button when he heard it, the voice he both longed to hear and desperately avoided hearing.
“Crowley are you there?” his voice sounded tired, and sad, and something was wrong.
Crowley hesitated then said, “What could you possibly want from me Aziraphale?” he had tried to give the angel everything, and it wasn’t enough.
“Can we talk?” the angel asked. And when he was met with silence he said “Please?”
Crowley continued to pick up his art supplies and move to the sink to clean his brushes out and called out as he turned the water on, “Fine, talk.”
He found that he was not eager to bait him into a fight. He was weary and just wanted to let him talk and then hopefully ask him if he feels better now and then unplug the radio. He was never going to be ok if the angel kept inserting himself into his life, it wasn’t fair. He got to go off to live his dream, what right did he have to keep popping up like this?
“I feel there are things that I need to say, things that I have, I’m afraid left too long unsaid. Only now I am dreadfully short on time.”
Crowley poked his head out of the door and said, “Got some trouble?” he said, far more sarcastically than he wanted, but he was still hurt.
“Crowley please. Don’t do this. Can we just talk? In person?”
“And if I say no?” he challenged.
“I’m very sorry my dear.” He said, his tone belying the seriousness of what he was about to do.
He felt his chest puff with anger and only got a word out before he blinked and found himself on the bench beside Aziraphale.
“What the fuck Aziraphale!” he said, jumping up off the bench to face, unable to tolerate this anymore. “What gives you the right to keep invading my life? You left me, remember. You chose Heaven over ‘us’. When you made your choice, you decided that we both have to live with it. So why do you keep popping up?” he was angry, he didn’t even have his glasses on, not caring who saw.
Aziraphale stood and the look on his face stopped the demon in his tracks, he fell silent as the angel reached up to touch his cheek where he had a streak of paint. He wished he could have resisted leaning into the touch, but he couldn’t. Aziraphale swiped his thumb under his eye to catch the tear that rebelliously escaped from his golden eyes.
“My darling, for far too long I have been forced to love you from afar. To cling to the fleeting touches for centuries, only to dream of what they could have been if only things were different. The hope that there is a version of us somewhere where we are just ‘us’. Then I could do this any time I wanted.” He said as he slid his hand to the back of his neck and pulled him in.
Crowley was so torn. It wasn’t fair and it was all he wanted at the same time.
“Angel” he whispered so softly that Aziraphale almost missed it, almost.
As their lips met, the warmth flooded the demon, and he could feel the angel pouring all his love and longing into it. His lips moving over Crowley’s, as the demon was unable to do anything except give into temptation and wrap his arms around his angel and hold him impossibly close as he felt a soft tongue lick at his lower lip and then dive in as he opened his mouth in permission. They stood intwined like that for what felt like forever and not nearly long enough before they parted, and Crowley snapped to stop time.
“Angel, why?” he asked, loosening his grip but not letting him go.
“Because there isn’t any more time, and I can imagine having never gotten to kiss you, properly.”
The angel’s face twisted as if he was in pain and Crowley stepped back a little and saw that Aziraphale’s form warped a bit, looking like a reflection in a fun house mirror.
“Angel what’s happening?!” he said somewhat alarmed.
The angel breathed through it and when his form had righted itself again, he said, “You have to restart time. I can’t stay here like this.” His grunted plea tore at the demon’s heart. Crowley’s wings burst forth without his permission wrapping them both in a dark cocoon where he whispered in the angel’s ear “Ok, but I’m not leaving you alone. If this is the end, then we are going out together.”
They found themselves transported back to Crowley’s flat and when he looked around, he was astonished at the difference between this flat and his last. He had been free here, to decorate and make this a home and Aziraphale could tell. He felt the strong arms of the demon gently lift him only to set him gently onto a sofa before standing away, shaking his wings out. With a thought, Crowley tucked them back into the plane where they existed.
“Ok, I think you better fill me in. Did you almost discorporate back there?”
Taking a deep breath the angel organized his thoughts so he could give him the cliff notes as they hadn’t the time for the entire tale. “Heaven is a mess. Metatron is acting of his own accord, and God has been gone for centuries. I learned that taking me to heaven in exchange for your protection was a means to separate us. And now they are trying to enact the second coming. I have found Jesus and hidden him until we can find another way.” He winced in pain but managed to continue, “But I can’t keep him hidden much longer. Crowley, I need your help. And even if we succeed at stopping the second coming, I may still not survive. As much as I wish that wasn’t the burden, I am placing with you, you are the only one who is clever enough to come up with something.”
The demon knelt in front of the angel and put his hands on his knees, and looked into storm gray eyes, his mind racing with all the information he had just been given. It hit him like a brick, if the angel was hiding Jesus and he was not able to keep doing so, and his body nearly discorporated when he stopped time. “Aziraphale, where is Jesus?”