Work Text:
Some version of you don’t know what you have until it’s gone existed in almost every human society Aziraphale had ever been a part of, but as an immortal being he never truly understood the truth in it until his (not quite) post-apocalyptic dinner with Crowley at the Ritz. At the end of the day the angel hadn't actually lost anything, but one close call made him appreciate everything just a little bit more.
His pear and blackberry crème brûlée was rich and decadent and made the most delightful crack when his spoon first broke through the shell. The wine - a white, to go with the salmon course - struck the perfect balance between dry and sweet. The pianist seemed to know all of Aziraphale’s favorite songs, though he had a feeling that might have been Crowley’s doing and not just part of the natural beauty of the universe.
Regardless, he loved it. He savored every bite and every sip and every note. It was only when the pair made their exit into the cool, evening air that Aziraphale realized-
“Crowley?”
“Hmm?”
“What are we meant to do now?”
For one brief, beautiful second, Aziraphale was hopeful that Crowley had an answer for him. He looked so confident when he opened his mouth to reply; his crooked, tipsy, happy grin might have been the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen-
But that all faded quickly, and so did the angel’s enthusiasm.
“I donno,” Crowley admitted, uncharacteristically sheepish. “I’ve never been unemployed before. Have you?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I haven’t.”
“It’s kinda funny, sssn’t it?” The demon rested his arm on Aziraphale’s shoulder, leaning into him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if physical affection was something they had always shared, and not some new, wild thing neither of them understood just yet. “Y’spend all that time wishing head office would just leave you alone so we can do what we want. Now that they have, we’ve got no idea what that is.”
“Yes,” Aziraphale replied flatly. “Absolutely hilarious.”
“Well I’m not laughing.”
“Neither am I.”
They stood like that for a while. Aziraphale watched as the cars passed, full of people who had no idea how lucky they were to be there at all, no matter how frustrated they were with the traffic. He watched an impossibly tiny dog bark at an equally impossibly large one as they passed on the sidewalk; neither of their humans seemed particularly bothered by the exchange. Down the block, a woman with long, wild hair struggled to pass out pamphlets detailing the imminent end times to uninterested passers by.
It was all so perfectly ordinary.
“What do you want to do?” Crowley asked. His dark glasses had slipped further down his nose, giving Aziraphale a little peek at those pretty yellow eyes. He looked… not quite afraid. Unsure? Maybe that was it. Or maybe he was just drunk. "If you could do anything, anything at all... what would you want to do tonight, angel?"
“I think,” he said, after giving the question careful consideration. At the moment, only one thing came to mind. “I would very much like to return to my bookshop.”
Crowley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, uh… can I come?”
Aziraphale dislodged himself from Crowley, looping his arm through his. “Of course, dear boy. Of course you can.”