Chapter Text
„Y-y-you can’t leave this bookshop.“
He’d said that before. In a very different time, and connected to the feeling that something was utterly wrong. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong now. Or did it?
“And I won’t,” Aziraphale said, smiling like the sun had been named after the way his face lit up by that. “I just … want to have something that isn’t mine or yours separately. I want something that belongs to both of us equally.” Crowley didn’t follow his train of thoughts, but he did follow him into the bespoken bookshop, quite confused.
“I don’t get it. Why? What’s wrong with what we’ve got?”
Aziraphale sat him down at his desk, and pulled up another chair for himself.
“I love having you around here, dear. Don’t get me wrong on that.” Aziraphale patted his arm which was … somewhat okay? He guessed? “But I don’t want you to only be my guest. I-i want–” Aziraphale took a deep breath, “I want us to live together. Share the place where we live.”
“And you don’t want us to live here because …?”
Crowley’s brain just skipped over the fact that Aziraphale had just told him that he wanted to live together with him. He accepted it for the moment – with the intention of coming back to it later.
The angel looked down now, to his hands in his lap that held each other nervously.
“Because I might have fallen in love with a little cottage in the South Downs. Much space for books, and old records. It has a great view of the night sky, with much less light pollution than anywhere near London.” He looked up to Crowley. “And it also has a garden. That needs someone to take care of it.”
The ticking of the large clock was very present in Crowley’s ears as Aziraphale looked at him with anticipation.
“And I would keep the bookshop, of course,” Aziraphale continued. “There’s so many memories stored between these walls. I couldn’t lose it for the world.” The angel’s hand twitched, but he held it in place. “Just like I could never lose you.”
Something was ringing in his ears now. They didn’t ever talk about things like this. Not directly like this. Wrapped up in stories or questions with a double meaning, maybe. Ugh. He needed a joke. Something to take the edge off.
“Because you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me. Bad things always find their way back.”
“If you say so,” Aziraphale huffed. He seemed dissatisfied with Crowley’s answer.
“So … Is the cottage available? D’you want to buy it?”
“Well,” Aziraphale rubbed his hands on his thighs looking away from him, and stood up. He began pacing the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “I might have already bought it?” he finally said, an apologetic expression on his face.
“Mister salesman!” Crowley said, admiringly. “When did you do that?”
“A while ago,” Aziraphale replied evasively, hesitantly.
“A while ago?” Crowley doubtfully repeated. “How long’s that been?”
Aziraphale’s answer was lost in a clearing of his throat.
“Angel?”
“I bought it sometime at the end of the last century,” he finally admitted.
There was silence after that while Crowley did the math. He always had a hard time remembering which year exactly they lived in. He’d lost count somewhere around the death of Jesus.
“You did wot?? That’s years – decades ago!” Crowley exclaimed after the realisation hit him.
Aziraphale defensively raised his hands.
“Yes, I know!” He started pacing around the room again. “I thought, back then, that if someday we would be safe from our now former bosses, so we could stop pr– But then … Well, I guess it just never came up.”
Crowley shook his head in disbelief.
“You wanted to share your home with me for almost half a century, did I get this right?” A nod. “And you didn’t tell me??”
“I did tell you now.”
“Angel.” Crowley stood up, crossed the distance that separated him from Aziraphale. The angel looked terrified somehow, and Crowley didn’t like that. “The bookshop is enough for me. All of this –” He made a vague gesture to Aziraphale, and everything that surrounded them. “– is enough for me.” They stood close together now, Crowley’s intense stare forcing Aziraphale to look at him. “But if you want more? For the love of humankind, tell me! Show me!”
Aziraphale nodded, looking away again, but Crowley waited until he caught those wonderful eyes again. “Alright. From what I hear, there’s a cottage you’ve fallen in love with. Would you show me? The Bentley is right outside, tank’s full.”
“You’re not mad at me anymore, are you?”
“Depends on how lovely the cottage is that you’ve secretly kept to yourself.” To his own surprise, he took Aziraphale’s hand and led him outside by it. “'M just joking, angel. Let’s go.”