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There is a snow globe in their garden. Neither of them are sure how it came to be there, or where it had come from at all - though personally, Asa thinks it must have been a gift from one of Anthony’s students. A small universe of its own - quite apt for an astrophysicist, really. And lovely - its hand-painted buildings and an old-fashioned car have always seemed rather charming to Asa.
The problem is, a snow globe isn’t really meant to be kept outside. No matter how resilient to outside conditions, it seems to be. That’s the first thought in Asa’s head as he hears a rather pronounced crack while trying to sort out the mess that is their outside table.
Asa lets go of a rather lovely potted ficus Anthony planted last year and tries to assess the damage. At first glance, the snow globe seems fine - but a closer looks reveals an unmistakable crack near the base. Asa touches the surface and - sure enough - there’s a bead of blood now blooming on his finger. He stares for a moment as red blood slowly drips down his finger and onto the grass.
"You okay?" A familiar voice makes Asa turn around and look at his husband, cup of coffee (always black) in one hand and a book in the other. He must have just woken up because Anthony's hair is still mussed from sleep. On instinct, Asa goes to fix it - but stops short as he looks at his still bloody finger.
"Sorry, just a little scratch. I'll go clean it and be back in a jiffy. Shall we do a crossword?" Asa says and resolves not to tell Anthony about the snow globe yet - not before he gets a better look and inspect the damage. His husband leans in for a kiss, and Asa's heart leaps as he runs back inside for a little round of disinfectant and hand-washing. He's never been happier, he thinks, as blood-red water slowly drips down the drain. Asa grabs his own cup - latte with a dash of caramel syrup, freshly made by Anthony - and runs outside, cryptic crossword book in hand.
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A week has passed and Asa and Anthony are on a walk through South Downs National Park. It's a lovely place - one they were both drawn to while choosing a place to call their home. For Asa, it's the calm, for Anthony - unobstructed view of the stars at night, without the light pollution of London. But mainly, it's the safety and love of their shared life, which, to Asa, is something he had never thought he could have. Before that chance meeting in Derek's bookshop, that is.
On this particular day, Asa feels alive - the sun is shining, and the air has a specific crisp-but-warm quality of spring with first hints of summer. He's holding his husband's hand and humming a little tune to himself, when something stops him in his tracks. At first, he's not sure what it is about the little valley that makes him hold his breath. But then he's letting go of Anthony's hand and running to the nearest grassy patch.
"Hey! What about not trampling the grass in the park?" He hears Anthony behind him, trying to catch up. But Asa has found his mark - so he kneels in the grass and just looks at the flowers at his feet. It's a whole field of dandelions, common enough, but Asa has can't look away. It's the colour he thinks - bright yellow with little hints of orange, beautiful and vibrant. He hears Anthony stop beside him and without thinking, he just picks up one of the flowers, stands up and turns to his husband.
"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that either," Anthony says, but he's smiling. And Asa can't help himself - he tucks the flower behind Anthony's ear.
"Don't you think this is just the prettiest colour? And fits you so well!" He can't stop grinning at Anthony because the yellow really does suit him, bringing out the lighter hues in his eyes.
In response, Anthony just kisses him, and it's sweet and tender and everything Asa has ever wanted.
So why does he suddenly have the feeling that something is missing...?
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It's been a week and Asa can't get rid of this weird feeling in his gut. It feels like an empty space has opened up inside him, like there's something he was supposed to remember about but can't. So he checks everything he can think of - but their bills are paid and Asa's mother doesn't celebrate her 90th birthday until later next month. The plants are watered (by Anthony, who seems to have a singular ability to make even the most dramatic plants perk up) and really there's nothing else Asa can think of to even check.
Meanwhile, he's feeling weirder and weirder, with little things making him experience feelings they're really not supposed to. Like one day, when Anthony asks him to dance in their garden, radio playing in the background. And Asa's fine until this particular song comes on: "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", a classic he has heard a million times. Except this time, it makes him need to sit down, heart beating frantically and tears coming to his eyes. And Anthony's worried, even tries to call an ambulance, and Asa thinks - maybe he's just getting older? Perhaps it's his grandmother's genes acting up, his brain slowly starting to lose the grip on reality? He needs to go see a doctor, he knows, he just doesn't want to worry Anthony, not yet anyway.
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It's August and Asa is readying the garden for their annual watch of the Perseid meteor shower. Even though it's a little mainstream, with Anthony complaining yearly of people calling the meteors "shooting stars", Asa always insists they watch them together. Secretly, he's just happy to hold hands and look at the night sky with the love of his life - and if he gets a dozen opportunities to wish upon a star in the process, even better. Really, the wishes he tries to think into being are about Anthony and their life together anyway.
Asa is moving boxes of gardening tools back to the house to make space on the outside table, when he gets to the snow globe again. He really should have repaired the crack in the glass by now, or at least carried it inside. He picks it up now, but the surface is slippery from the morning dew...and Asa watches helplessly as the snow globe falls from his grasp, glass splintering when it hits the ground. There's a bit of silence, when Asa just stares at the broken snow globe, artificial snow now specks of white dust on the grass, little shops and miniature car looking as if they had been hit by an apocalypse. He kneels to clean the pieces and gently touches the brown-red building he always really loved to look at through the glass. At least - he thinks he touches it because the moment he does the world goes black.
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Aziraphale wakes up with his cheek pressing into the grass. Slowly, he opens his eyes and immediately squints at the bright sun shining above. He feels as if he's been asleep for a long time and tries to sit up, but immediately has to hold on to the table leg when the headache and nausea hit him. It's like his brain is made of two separate halves, and they are now merging - the universe that was but ceased to exist and the universe that is, with the life he has built with...
"Crowley." Aziraphale says the word softly, and the meaning of it all hits him all at once - him and Crowley, because, of course, it is his Crowley, finding each other again, despite everything. Despite the universe ending, despite the time and space, and everything science and God say is and isn't possible.
Suddenly, he feels his heart starting to beat frantically, while the memories flood his mind.
Him and Crowley in the bookshop, Satan and God on their doorstep.
Him and Anthony on their first date, sharing a meal, a conversation and a lovely walk under the clear night sky afterwards.
Him and Crowley at the Ritz, him eating and Crowley drinking the best wine that the restaurant has on offer.
Him and Anthony on their wedding day, exchanging vows, rings and promises for their future lives.
Him and Crowley in the Bentley. In Heaven. In their little cottage. In bed. Just them over and over and over again - in this universe and the one that came before it. And really, it shouldn't be possible, but somehow, somehow Aziraphale remembers it all. And maybe it doesn't even surprise him because they always had a way of finding each other. So why should this universe be any different? After all, Crowley once told him in this life, that nothing was truly lost in the universe. Nothing truly disappeared, it only changed form. So really, are souls, memories and feelings any different? It's all out there - or maybe the universe just likes them in particular. He doesn't care because at this moment he needs Crowley with a desperation he's never felt before.
Aziraphale runs back inside and has to stop for a moment because their wedding day photos are right there on the mantelpiece. And he knows he's seen them a thousand times before, but remembering suddenly makes them feel new, in a sense. Suddenly, it's not two people having their wedding day after 3 years of being madly in love. Suddenly, it's two souls madly in love for thousands of years, finally, finally getting what should have happened so long before then.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale calls, his voice breaking a bit, the name so familiar he could cry from joy.
"Mhm," is the only mumbled reply as Aziraphale enters their bedroom and looks at his husband, gray hair still pressed into the pillow.
"Crowley, I need you to come with me" Aziraphale says and watches as Crowley's eyes slowly focus on him.
"Am I in trouble? Because I'm pretty sure you've never called me by my last name before."
"Oh. Right. Not in trouble, no," Aziraphale is getting flustered again because really, looking at Crowley in their bed is bringing a lot of memories from this life come to the surface of his mind. "I just really need you to get up now, please".
Crowley does, though slowly, and then squints at Aziraphale in a really adorable way Aziraphale came to love in this life they've shared for the last 20 years. So he wordlessly passes glasses to Crowley, who puts them on and just squints harder.
"I know my eyesight really isn't the best, but has your hair always been this white?" Crowley asks, and Aziraphale whips around to face their mirror and really, his hair that's been gray for the last however many years has now turned almost pure white.
"Oh. Well, it has and hasn't been. Complicated story, which I promise will make sense if you just follow me," at this point Aziraphale can't take waiting any longer, so he just grabs Crowley's hand and drags him outside, stopping at the edge of the site of a mini-apocalypse that has recently been a perfectly lovely snow globe.
Aziraphale hears Crowley inhale softly beside him, looking at the glass pieces scattered before them. "Well, I'm not sure this particular jigsaw puzzle will be easy to solve, even for us," he says, and Aziraphale really needs him to remember. So he picks up the miniature car, the miniature Bentley, and holds it out for Crowley to take.
And it really is a testament to their lifetime, lifetimes, together, that Crowley does without question.
The effect is instantaneous, Crowley's face going blank and his legs buckling. Aziraphale immediately jumps in to hold him and gently lays Crowley down on the grass, avoiding the scattered glass pieces as carefully as he can.
Then he just waits - and watches, Crowley's eyes closed but moving beneath his eyelids. His hair slowly going from gray, to light ginger, to almost fiery red.
Finally, after what feels like eternity, Aziraphale hears Crowley's breathing change, a soft intake of breath an indication he's waking up.
"Angel?" One word is enough, and Aziraphale completely unravels. He hears a sob escaping his throat, feels the tears streaming down his face, and suddenly, there are arms wrapping around him. A familiar and yet entirely new feeling enveloping him like a blanket. He holds Crowley back, and thinks he might never again let go, not even to save the universe.
After what feels like entirely too short of a time, Aziraphale feels Crowley pull back. He opens his eyes and sees eyes that were brown just moments ago but are now brown with hints of bright yellow, looking at him with something he can't even begin to decipher.
"Angel. Aziraphale," Crowley clears his throat, as if to say something more, and Aziraphale can't help it. He just pulls him in and presses their lips together. He knows they've done it a thousand times before, but still, there is something entirely new about that kiss. And Crowley seems to agree because the kiss quickly turns hungry and desperate, one of Crowley's hands stroking Aziraphale's cheek, the other gripping his hair for dear life.
Once they finally pull apart, Crowley doesn't seem confused any more. Instead, Aziraphale finds himself looking at Crowley, his beloved Crowley, smiling at him as if he's the most beautiful thing in the universe.
"What? Why are you smiling at me like that?" Aziraphale asks, and if he's a little out of breath it's nobody's business, really.
"Nothing. It's just...did you know we've been married for 17 years?" If anything, Crowley's grin gets even wider now, while Aziraphale gently swats him on the arm.
"Well, I'm pretty sure it's not something I'd forget. Should have been longer, if you ask me, but then again, you've been busy looking at the stars instead of finding me," he knows this is really not the point right now, but Aziraphale doesn't care. He just wants his Crowley, his husband, their banter, their cottage, their garden and the life they built together.
"I'm pretty sure this isn't how it was supposed to go, though, is it?" Crowley asks, because, of course, he has questions, and Aziraphale loves him for it. "I mean, God was pretty adamant we were sacrificing our souls for that universe. Do you think she lied? Or maybe, it's not God pulling the strings at all but something even greater? Or maybe the universe really is much more complicated than we have thought?"
"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure we will find an answer. Eventually. Because right now, I'm really in the mood for something that doesn't concern God, or angels, or demons," Aziraphale says, and he could swear Crowley's eyes sparkle at that.
"Which is...?"
"Which is," Aziraphale continues, "a cup of hot cocoa, French toast with maple syrup and after that, a whole day alone with my husband. Oh, and then an evening watching the Perseid meteor shower."
Crowley's answering smile could truly, once upon a time, have belonged to a demon. And Aziraphale has never loved him more.