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“Aziraphale.” Crowley muttered, eyes staring bullets into the other man’s.
“Yes, you see, you seem to know me. But, um, well,” He glanced around, eyes flicking everywhere but Crowley’s.
"Spit it out, Angel." He grits out, his nails piercing the skin of his palms.
“Who are you?”
And that's when Crowley's world got flipped upside down.
OR: Aziraphale finally got the punishment Heaven had been itching to give him. Now he thinks he's a human, living a mundane, quiet life, while Crowley remembers the past 6000 odd years.