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"Don't bother" Crowley said in a voice Aziraphale could only describe as well- broken.
He watched as the demon walked out of the shop, and let out a shaky breath.
What have I just done? He thought as he slowly lifted his hand to touch his lips. It was unlike anything Aziraphale had ever felt. Sure, he had kissed a few people throughout the millennia but this was nothing like those kisses. They had always been chaste, mostly unfeeling. But this was something new entirely. Suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe.
What had he done?
A small sob escaped him, but the small chime of the bell made him lower his hand.
"How did he take it?" Metatron breezily asked as he walked into the shop.
Aziraphale didn't know how to summarize what had just taken place in their, no his, bookshop.
"Um, not well"
"Ah, well, always did want to go his own way."
Not really, Aziraphale thought. He didn't want to be alone, he just didn't understand. He wanted things to just be…our way.
"Always asking damn fool questions, too," Metatron continued.
That's not…no. He only wanted to understand things. He's not a fool, he just doesn't understand his part of the Great Plan. He just wanted…
A wave of anxiety passed over him and Aziraphale let out a halfhearted chuckle.
"Right, ready to start?" Metatron asked with enthusiasm.
Aziraphale paused and looked around. A knot of anxiety began to form. His books.
"I…but, well…my bookshop?" He asked
"Ah yes, well for now I've entrusted it to Muriel. It'll be in good hands!"
Aziraphale looked out and saw the oh so naive Muriel standing at the window. This certainly was not the job for her. The anxiety that was bubbling began to build even more.
"But-"
"Anything you need to take with you?" Metatron pressed.
He barely had to look around to think of all the things he wanted to grab. His favorite pen set. A small gold plated globe the little old lady down the street had given him as a thank you for feeding her cat. The handmade blanket he bought at the street fair last summer. A Beethoven record that Crowley has gifted him for Christmas in 1992. The leather bound journal where he logged the dogs he saw each day on the street. A small watering bulb that was left here just last week. His autographed Jane Austen novels. Crowley.
"No. Nothing I can think of."
Metatron let out a noise of approval and began to walk out of the shop.
Aziraphale suddenly felt as if he might pass out. This was not right. Something was very wrong.
"I think I might-" He started. He shook it off.
"Nothing at all," He finished with a giggle.
As he exited the shop, he saw the Bentley in all its glory parked across the street. And there he still was. Crowley. Watching as Aziraphale left everything behind for…well. Heaven!
As soon as they were walking, Metatron raised his voice, "Well I can't think of a better angel to wrap things up and set into motion the next step in the Great Plan!"
"Um, yes, you mentioned that. Can I know what it is?" Aziraphale said, feeling quite nervous.
Don't ask questions you damn fool, said a mocking voice in his head.
"Well it's something we need an angel of your talents to direct. An angel who is familiar with how they do things on Earth."
"Ah"
"We call it the Second Coming," Metatron answered as he began to walk towards the lift.
Aziraphale paused. The what? Familiar with Earth? No, no. Why does this all feel wrong! This shouldn't feel like this. I'm going back to heaven. I'm doing proper good. I can be the change I want to see, or whatever that fellow said! And I'll have…no…why does this feel like…
He felt eyes burning into his back as Metatron gave him a questioning look from the elevator. Aziraphale turned back. And there Crowley still was. As brooding as ever but there was a sadness in the way he stood. Not slumped over or dramatically thrown over a bench like the heroine in some fairytale. No, no. He stood rigid. Like someone had melted his feet to the ground and he simply couldn't move from his spot. They held each other's eyes for one long moment.
I'm sorry, he wished he could scream.
But he knew it was almost too late for that. Instead he just stared. And tried to memorize Crowley's face, something he shouldn't have done thousands of years ago.
He sighed.
I'm so deeply sorry.
He pressed a hand to his eyes and he stepped closer to the lift.
One foot in front of the other now, he thought to himself.
Metatron gave him a look of impatience and cold dread pushed him forward.
He stepped in.
Metatron pushed the button marked with a golden H.
He looked out on the street of SoHo and tried to take in humanity for all it was. But all he could see was an old black car and a flaming head of hair, slowly climbing into it.
This is a mistake.
"No, no, no. WAIT!" he said and stumbled out of the elevator.
Before Metatron could say a word, reach out, do anything, the doors shut and in a flash of blinding light he was gone.
Aziraphale blinked and found Crowley's face from across the street. He had stopped halfway into the car, and upon making eye contact, he straightened back up. There was an odd expression on the demon's face, one that Aziraphale wasn't sure he could read.
He ran as fast as he could with the early morning traffic in his way and approached Crowley.
He stood there for a moment with shaking breath, and found he could barely speak.
"Crowley, I-"
"I don't- I can't hear it right now" Crowley whispered.
"How do you know what I'm going to say?"
"What is there to say?" Crowley said, fiddling with the car door handle.
"Can we please-"
"No."
"Crowley, you don't even know what I was going to say," He said incredulously.
Silence.
"Can we talk in the bookshop?"
"Oh yes, because that goes well," Crowley bit back, and refused to look at him
"Please" Aziraphale said, slowly reaching towards Crowley's hand.
He yanked it back and glared, something Aziraphale saw even with the glasses.
"Fine."
And he matched towards the shop, leaving Aziraphale by the car.
I can work with fine, He thought.
The silence between has not been so loud since…well a long time.
"You can start," Aziraphale offered. Seeing that him opening his mouth first caused all this.
Crowley let out a hollow laugh,
"Ah, no thank you."
Silence.
"Should I start then?" He offered.
Crowley looked up at him for the first time since they walked into the shop.
"Oh go ahead," he said, voice laced with venom.
Aziraphale paused.
Where to even start.
"I am so deeply sorry Crowley."
Silence.
"And…I will spend the rest of our lives, the rest of eternity even, trying to apologize."
Crowley sniffed disapprovingly.
"I just wanted, well, for us to be happy. For you to be happy!"
Crowley snorted.
"I see now that I went about it the wrong way. The very wrong way."
Silence.
"That's all I've ever wanted, really, was for you to be happy. Because I care about you! I do!"
Crowley rolled his eyes.
"I saw that. but it doesn't matter. I know I was selfish. I- I guess I was just trying to make it easier for us. But well. It wasn't what you wanted."
"Damn right," Crowley said quietly without looking up.
"I- well. Crowley I-"
Crowley looked up at him. A few tears had streaked down behind his glasses.
"Don't say it," he said, voice mixed with anger and grief.
Aziraphale felt like the wind got knocked out of him.
"Don't-"
"Nope," Crowley said, taking off his glasses, "You left. You were ready to give up everything, EVERYTHING, in a heartbeat. The bookshop. The Kid. Me. You were willing to leave it all. That's not…" he paused, unable to say the unspoken word.
Aziraphale did the only thing he could think of, and gently took Crowley's hand.
The silence turned warmer as Crowley stared at their hands.
"I don't forgive you-"
"I don't expect you to, you are a demon-"
"Ah" Crowley warned
"Sorry"
"I don't forgive you, yet. But I will," Crowley said softly. He squeezed their linked hands.
"That's all I can ask, my dear" Aziraphale whispered, as he raised their hands to his mouth and pressed a light kiss to the back of Crowley's hand. He wrapped his other hand around Crowley's, encasing it, and holding tight.
A small sob escaped Crowley as Aziraphale rested his chin on their pile of hands.
They sat for a moment, as Crowley dried his tears and the sun began to dip casting orange and red over the bookshop.
"I love you," Crowley whispered after the sun had gone down.
"And I love you," Aziraphale replied.
And that is all we need for right now.