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From the moment Anthony Crowley first spotted the quaint little bookshop on the corner of the street, he felt it. It was an odd kind of warmth, like a distant echo of something important had woken up inside him, and it made his feet stop in front of the door, not letting him move until he did something. Whether he should run towards the feeling or chase it away, he wasn’t sure, but his heart made the choice long before his brain could even catch up, and the next thing he knew, he was already opening the door and stepping over the threshold.
That feeling stayed with him—still just as warm and incessantly urgent—from the very first “I was wondering, do you have any books on Astrophysics?” to “Well, thank you.” as he paid and headed back out onto the street.
It would not leave.
It pleaded with him as he took his first few steps away from the bookshop, and it stayed on his mind the entire length of the adjacent street like a bittersweet aftertaste from wine on his tongue. It climbed up from his heart to his brain and filled him with thoughts such as “Maybe I should go back.” and “Maybe I should pretend I also actually wanted a book on gardening, then ask for the shopkeeper’s number.” Because he knew, deep down, that whatever that feeling was, it had something to do with the kind man who had found Arthur Eddington’s book on relativity for him.
But he kept his feet moving and didn’t turn back.
Anthony didn’t really believe in fate. There were no such things as destiny or soulmates. It just wasn’t how the universe functioned, not from how he had observed it, and he had done a lot of observing over the years. If this truly was something important, there had to be a scientific explanation for it, hadn’t there?
Still, when he heard hurried footfalls heading towards him from behind and a loud “Oi! I mean, excuse me, stop!” in the familiar voice of the shopkeeper, there was a brief moment where his heart turned to his brain with a smug message of “See? That’s fate, you moron.”, and honestly, he couldn’t even argue, because half a minute later, the kind man—Asa Fell—was asking for his number, and fate or not, Anthony knew when not to pass up a chance at something that could very well change his life for the better.
They dined at a small local restaurant that evening, sharing wine and stories, while the feeling in Anthony’s chest quietly grew, now nestled comfortably inside his heart. The more Asa Fell opened his mouth and talked, the more Anthony felt like he had finally found the one person who would define before and after in his life. He barely knew him, and yet, he felt like something important had happened to him. Like without that odd feeling in his chest acting like a beacon, he would never have entered the bookshop at all, he would never have met Asa Fell, and his life would have embarked on a completely different trajectory, one full of regret that he would never be quite able to explain.
Did he believe in love at first sight? No, he didn’t. But after today, he might just start believing in something, because he had no clue what else to call this. No theories other than that somehow, the two of them were meant to be. So what else could he do but hold onto this sudden connection between them—a connection that felt as steady as the earth’s gravity right from the start—and not let go, wherever it might take him?
Two hours later, after a scrumptious dinner and a lovely talk, Anthony and Asa Fell stepped out of the restaurant and under the sparkling canopy of the night London sky. The urgency in Anthony’s heart only grew as their time slowly came to an end, as if he was still supposed to do something. He had Asa Fell’s number now, so that was a step forward, but somehow, he knew that was not it. There was something he needed to do before he let his feet carry him away from this encounter. Something that would help settle the restless feeling in his chest.
“Well.” Asa Fell slowed down to a stop as they reached a corner of the street where, presumably, they would part ways, and gave an awkward but unfairly endearing laugh. “I really did have a wonderful time, thank you, Anthony.”
Throughout the entire evening, Anthony found it near-impossible to fight against the smile that kept sneaking back onto his face, so he had given up and left it there, wearing his heart on his sleeve now more than he ever had in his life.
“Yes, likewise,” he said, grinning back.
Don’t let him leave, the feeling in his heart yelled at him.
Don’t let him leave without—
“I’m glad.” Asa Fell’s smile grew into a grin to mirror Anthony’s, his eyes almost literally sparkling with joy. “And thank you again for your number. I will—I mean, could I call you?”
Anthony laughed. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“Right then, I shall,” Asa Fell said with a satisfied nod. He quirked an eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”
Anthony couldn’t be happier to confirm. “Tomorrow.”
“Excellent.”
They stood there together for a while at the street corner, just staring at each other, soaking in the comforting knowledge that this would happen again, again and again. They would call each other and go to dinners, and they would talk and get to know one another better, and they would not regret a single second. It wasn’t awkward, to stand there and think about these things. It felt almost familiar in a way that Anthony simply couldn’t explain. Almost like, the moment his eyes fell on Asa Fell for the first time, his soul sighed a breath of relief and whispered “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever”. And Anthony was perfectly aware of how cheesy and strange and improbable in a myriad of ways it all was, but he just couldn’t help it.
He bit his bottom lip as he counted the seconds, trying to decide what the next best course of action would be. Whether he should kiss Asa Fell a goodbye like tradition dictated, or embrace him since they were not teenagers anymore and didn’t necessarily need to kiss right on the first date, or just shake his hand because he really wanted to do that, too. He looked up at the night sky for a moment for guidance, noting the brightness of Jupiter, and how close it was to the Gemini constellation. It was the beginning of Spring, and soon, the winter constellations would fully give way to the Spring ones, but for now, Gemini was still bright and visible right above them, the figures holding hands like they always were. Tonight, even the stars seemed to smile at him in encouragement.
Anthony cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.” He offered his hand for a handshake. “It was lovely meeting you, Asa Fell.”
Asa Fell brightened at the words. “Yes, and you.”
And then the something happened. Asa Fell accepted Anthony’s hand, their palms sliding together like old friends, and with that first touch of their fingers, the universe seemed to tilt for a second around them. The stars, the houses, the trees, everything shifted, yet simultaneously stayed the same.
Anthony felt it. He was sure Asa Fell felt it too, but he was not so sure about anyone else with them on the street. The phenomenon seemed oddly isolated to just them.
A feeling of completeness settled over him once it was over, a fresh breath of early-spring night air rushing into his lungs. It swept through him, finally making that strange feeling in his chest dissipate, as if it was no longer needed. And he supposed it wasn’t. Because when he regained his composure, his palm still pressed firmly against Asa Fell’s, he realised something.
He was no longer just professor Anthony Crowley, the astrophysicist.
He was Anthony J. Crowley, also known as Crawly, the Serpent of Eden. The former demon who had been living out of his car for the past several years, a universe away, eons in the past and yet, at the same time, just a few short days ago.
He was both of them.
He was himself.
Finally, he had become who he was always meant to be.
“Crowley?”
And that was no longer just Asa Fell’s voice, it was Aziraphale’s.
Crowley’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Angel?”
Aziraphale laughed, his own eyes already full, and with one swift pull on Crowley’s hand, he brought their chests together in a firm embrace.
“Oh, Crowley.”
It wasn’t just a random Tuesday evening anymore. It was the beginning of the rest of their lives. The very first seconds after God herself had erased them from existence and with it, forged a new universe. It was the first time either of them had seen each other without the threat of death dangling above their heads.
It was freedom. Complete and utter freedom.
Their hard-won victory, at last.
Crowley’s hands snaked around Aziraphale’s middle on instinct, wanting to feel him as close as possible, wanting to keep him safe. He had seen him just a second ago, but it felt like millennia had passed. And indeed, 13.8 billion years had, so there really was no harm in keeping the former angel in his arms for at least a fortnight, was there?. Because he was here, they had found each other, and somehow, against all odds, they had their memories back.
Most of them anyway. It almost felt like a vivid dream. Crowley might be a little fuzzy on some details, since his human brain could only comprehend so much, and he already had half a human life stored there, but even if he couldn’t remember exactly how Dagon had looked, or which name Archangel Gabriel went by when he had lost his memories, he knew enough. He knew Aziraphale. He remembered everything they had gone through together before the Beginning, in the Garden of Eden, and throughout Earth’s history.
Besides, more might come to him later.
“Crowley, is it really you?” Aziraphale squeezed him firmly, then let go just enough so he could look Crowley in the face. “Oh, look at you. Your hair! Your eyes!”
It was only then that Crowley remembered his eyes used to be yellow in another life. And he used to have wings! He opened his mouth to say just that, but Aziraphale was faster, as usual.
“I love them,” he said.
Crowley couldn’t help but blush. Curse human bodies and their blood flow, even though this was how it always had been for him, for Anthony, in this universe.
“Ngk.”
“I loved them before too, you know,” Aziraphale added. “Only, I never told you.”
Crowley opened his mouth and then closed it again. He was about to say something important back, some kind of observation about what had just happened, but no, something much more important had to be said. Something that he never got to say in their past lives. Something that needed to be said immediately, before it tore Crowley apart.
“Angel . . . I love you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes went wide, then immediately softened. They knew this about each other. That it was love, and always had been. It was obvious enough to people around them, and after the years they had spent together after the first Armageddon, after that one single kiss they were allowed, how could it not be obvious to them, too?
Still, more than anything, it needed saying.
Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek in his warm palm, his thumb tracing Crowley’s cheekbone. His eyes sparkling with unshed tears, he nodded. “Yes. And I think, in this universe, I can finally say that . . . I love you, too, my dear. I always have.”
Crowley didn’t want to cry—here, on a random street corner on a Tuesday night, in a world that was entirely human—but it was a little too late for that, and besides, he could never help himself when it came to Aziraphale, could he? Aziraphale’s eyes tracked the first tear that rolled down Crowley’s cheek immediately, and with care, he wiped it away. And then he did something that Crowley had always wanted him to do. Something he never thought he would actually get. Not in their past lives, at least.
Aziraphale sighed shakily, then pulled Crowley down by the collar of his coat and kissed him.
It was completely different from the last time, when it felt like Aziraphale wanted to pull away from him. Now, Aziraphale’s hands went up to Crowley’s shoulders, their grip firm and sure, as if there was nothing more important then keeping his lips exactly where they were, pressed to Crowley’s. And at the same time, it was completely the same as their first kiss in the bookshop. Because the taste of him—even without the spark of holiness present—was entirely, and fully, Aziraphale.
Former angel, now a human shopkeeper, but still himself.
Crowley laughed into the kiss softly, remembering just in that moment that he used to have a forked tongue. When they pulled apart, he pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s, closing his eyes as they breathed together.
“I missed you, you know,” Aziraphale whispered. “Every day of my life, I think. I just didn’t know it.”
“Yeah, me too,” Crowley said. He must have. Because only now, with Aziraphale back in his arms, he felt complete.
Aziraphale slipped his hand into Crowley’s after a while and together, they walked to the nearest park in Soho for some privacy. Crowley’s brain was still swirling with a million thoughts all at once. Their shared history. Their human versions. So much astrophysics. The fact that today was clearly meant to be.
That feeling that had made him stop by the bookshop.
“I think . . .” Crowley began, then trailed off.
“Yes, dear?”
“I think I believe in fate now.” It was hard to admit it, because as Anthony, he still wasn’t sure he did. But knowing all that he knew now as Crowley, and knowing how differently today could have turned out had it not been for the invisible string of fate leading him straight to Aziraphale’s bookshop, it was clear to him more than ever, that even though this was a godless universe, there still were some unexplained forces at play here. There must have been. “I know it wasn’t the Almighty’s doing—“
“No, probably not.”
“Since this is a Godless universe . . . I think, but . . .”
“Yes, I think I know what you mean,” Aziraphale said, squeezing his hand. “Today . . . We were meant to find each other again, Crowley, I’m quite sure of it. You could say it was written in the stars.” He chuckled cheerfully, and Crowley joined him, the book of Astrophysics still tucked safely under his arm in a paper bag. (A miracle, really, that it hadn’t slipped from his grip yet.) “And I’m so very grateful that you stepped through to that bookshop.”
“Me too.”
A whole new universe, billions of years later, and somehow, they still managed to find each other. A whole new universe. Crowley’s eyes widened. “Angel!” Aziraphale turned to look at him, curious. “This means it worked!”
Aziraphale took a second to realise what Crowley was saying, but when he did, a proud, bittersweet smile settled on his lips. It was a look Crowley was more than familiar with, over the six millennia of past life memories.
“It did, didn’t it?” Aziraphale said. “My, look at all around us.” He spun them around, now by the park entrance, taking in all the bushes and trees that had just begun to grow leaves not two weeks ago, and now posed for them proudly under the yellow street lights. “A whole new, beautiful universe!”
Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer to him. He was grinning again. It had all been worth it, after all. “A proper chance for everyone. Free will, angel.”
Aziraphale beamed at him. “Free will, indeed.”
For the first time in a long time, from Crowley’s perspective at least, if not Anthony’s, Crowley was going to sleep well. Just knowing that Aziraphale—now Asa Fell—was here on this earth with him, until the end of their lives, was enough to keep the distant echo of fear from their previous lives away. Crowley didn’t want to live in the past, and neither did Anthony. He wanted to live in the present, and for their future.
For the life they had fought so hard to have.
“Oh, you know something?” Aziraphale exclaimed after a moment, turning around to pat Crowley’s chest.
“What?”
“I have a lovely cottage in the South Downs, plenty of room for plants and, and all your star-gazing equipment and—” He looked so hopeful as he said it, face full of the level of excitement that only Aziraphale was capable of, in any life. “I think you would like it there, dear. Very much.”
Bit by bit, the past fear melted from Crowley’s heart, and he knew that, as long as Aziraphale was there with him, he would not have to fear anything ever again.
He did always dream of a place where they could be together, away from it all. Now, it seemed his dreams had come true.
“I’m sure I will, angel,” he said. And before he could let his human brain (and the bitter, past memories) talk him out of it, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, taking a deep breath as he faced him. His heart started to beat faster. “W-would you . . . I mean,” he tossed his head towards the other side of the park, “I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t you, angel?”
Aziraphale’s eyes followed where Crowley had pointed, and he seemed to get the hint. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I should think so. Lots and lots.”
“And I don’t live too far from here,” Crowley continued. “Would you like to come with me? Maybe spend the night? I could—I could make us hot cocoa. And I have some more books at home.” He chuckled. “Well, mostly on astrophysics, including the, you know, two boxes—“
“In the garage, yes.”
“Yeah. That. So? What do you say, angel?”
Crowley could hear it then, the memory, as clear as day: I don’t think my side would like that.
But there were no more sides here, were they? It was just them, Crowley and Aziraphale, Anthony and Asa Fell, and the whole, new, exciting world at their fingertips. They were on each other’s side now. Forever and always, and without any fear or threats of discorporation or punishment for fraternising.
Slowly, a smile pulled at Aziraphale’s lips, and the wider and happier it got, the surer it felt. Crowley’s heart calmed as he watched Aziraphale nod in answer.
“I say yes,” he said. “Yes, I think I would like that very much, dear.”
Crowley leaned down and kissed him, then offered his elbow and waited for Aziraphale to hook his arm through it. Together, they walked side by side along the edge of the park, heading towards the exit on the other side, where Anthony Crowley’s home was located, a few more blocks away. But mostly, they were heading towards their future. Their well-earned, and well-deserved happy ending, at last.
In one of the trees high above them, though it was quite late already, and very dark, a nightingale hopped from branch to branch impatiently. When it finally spotted the two figures below—their outlines so reminiscent of their past selves, but now fully dedicated to these new ones—it opened its little beak and graced their night with a beautiful tune.
It sang to Asa Fell.
It sang to Anthony.
And it sang to the world.