Work Text:
Crowley stared into the water.
“Aziraphale,” he asked quietly…
And then hesitated.
He knew he shouldn’t ask. There were some things where asking just… wasn‘t the done thing. Things were fine between them now, with their not-speaking, pretending like nothing had changed… that was just… well.
Okay so maybe things weren’t exactly fine, Crowley thought glumly. If things were fine, then he probably wouldn’t be sleeping in the backseat of his car. And it wasn’t like it was that bad, it wasn’t literal torture, he was a demon, there was enough of that in Hell for him to know intimately how torture felt…
It did sting though.
“Yes?”
“I was thinking, now we don’t have to deal with Heaven and all… we could… well. You know. I could maybe move in with you…”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley thought he sounded horribly taken aback, “look, it’s not that I don’t want to, my dear… it’s just, im really not sure that would be a good idea…”
Crowley swallowed bitterly.
Of course Aziraphale wouldn't want him to move in…
He didn’t know what he’d expected honestly.
When had Aziraphale ever chosen him— no, Crowley cut off that line of thinking. That wasn’t fair on the angel at all. Of course Aziraphale still had more reservations, Crowley thought bitterly, he was an angel. Worst thing that could happen to Crowley was just an eternity of Hell’s torture… Aziraphale could still Fall.
And Crowley was pretty sure Aziraphale knew Falling wasn't just… paperwork, and being escorted down into Hell anymore, even if he didn’t know the full, horrific details of it all.
Perhaps if he told the angel he was still in daily pain from the Fall… or if he told him he was sleeping in his car under a bridge… or something… there must be something he could say to win Aziraphale over.
“Please,” Crowley whispered, hating how shaky his voice sounded.
“It goes against lockdown rules,” Aziraphale huffed, and his tone was changing again, like he was closing off… like he always did, every time Crowley started to feel like they might maybe just be more more than friends…
Crowley waved his hand helplessly.
“Aziraphale,” he tried, “we… we’re an angel. And a demon. If lockdown rules don’t apply to Boris and his friends they definitely don’t apply to us.”
Aziraphale glared at him, and Crowley’s heart sunk like a stone.
Shite.
He’d done it again, hadn’t he? He thought bitterly, put his foot in his mouth and pissed of Aziraphale… just like he always did. And blew his one chance at getting it of having to sleep in his car before the upcoming storm this weekend…
“You,” Aziraphale said, and his voice sounded, quite frankly, icy cold, “are a demon. You are meant to break the rules. I am an angel. I have to set a good example, and it would be very hypocritical of me not to.”
“Gabriel wouldn't care,” Crowley muttered… wondering if he was only making it worse… if anything was going to make it better… “and he’s supreme dickhead and all.
“He is not,“ Aziraphale protested, even though Crowley was fairly sure the angel shared his sentiment on the matter, “and this is entirely inappropriate. Besides, Gabriel tried to kill you... Er… Me. But thats beside the point! A demon cannot live with an angel, especially not in these unprecedented times. It would be most improper.”
“Since when have you cared about proper? C'mon, Angel… you know you want too…” Crowley pleaded, wondering how he could hope to convince Aziraphale that it would be fine.
“I most certainly do not! Stop trying to tempt me, demon!” The Principality protested, crossing his arms and looking most annoyed.
Crowley kicked a stone, anger and shame swirling in his gut. That stung, far more than he wanted to admit. He just… He wished Aziraphale could see that he never wanted to be a demon… that it didn’t define him…
“I never meant to fall. You know?” He called out, but it was too late, and Aziraphale was already waddling off, back to his cosy bookshop with its heating that actually worked, and its hot water, its record player that would play something other than Queen…
Blast it. He’d well and truly buggered that.
Crowley looked down at the duck on the pond, and flicked his wrist, summoning up a handful of bread crumbs.
At least the ducks seemed to appreciate him, he thought bitterly, tossing the breadcrumbs down.
XXXX
“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, approximately ten minutes after they'd foiled the second coming and stopped the end of the world from happening… again, “Why didn’t you tell me you were living in your car?”
Crowley hesitated, swallowing hard.
“I guess I didn’t think it would make a difference,” Crowley said softly, and Aziraphale’s face fell.
“No, I don’t suppose it would’ve done, would it? He said softly, looking completely devastated, “I was a right bastard to you, wasn't I?”
“Nah,” Crowley swallowed, “just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing?”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale chided softly, “I know I hurt you… Heaven made me feel like I had to keep you at a distance… that I was unworthy if I didn’t… they hurt both of us, so badly… and I didn’t realise it bothered you…”
“Angel,” Crowley said quietly, placing his hand on Aziraphale’s waist. “I know what Heaven’s like. I forgave you, bloody ages ago.“
“Oh,” Aziraphale said, softly, “but I…”
“Heaven was horrific to you. Hell was… even worse, to me. But even though it hurt… I knew you were just parroting what you’d been taught to say. And of course it still hurt me in the moment, but… I still love you. And you’ve come so far since then, you’ve changed so, so much. And that’s what matters— not the past, but who we are now,” Crowley went on, desperate to get his feelings across.
“I…”
Crowley sighed.
“C'mon angel,” he said softly, “let’s go feed the ducks.”