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Of course Crowley'd known.
They'd always known. They just didn't want to. They didn't want to know, didn't want to feel. But they did, and they knew.
It was not so much a reality check - though Nina and Maggie most definitively did mean for it to be - as much as it was a confrontation.
Their mind drifted back to the events of the last couple weeks. Of course they had realised the similarities between the two women and Aziraphale and them. How couldn't they have. Crowley has and probably always will have a one-track mind. Said track, of course, always lead to Aziraphale.
Yet, when Crowley sat there across these two women, having thousands of years of both wisdom and age on them, Crowley found themselves embarrassed. Ashamed.
Someone had noticed. Crowley had not been hiding behind their façade as well as they'd accounted for. Someone did see.
They had seen it all.
The lingering touches. The way their eyes moved behind dark glasses, never leaving Aziraphale. The everything of it.
Crowley could not help but feel shame. Shame for being so open. Shame for adoring an Angel. Shame for wishing to be with one so similar, but to the public, so different.
It was then that something snapped. As they sat in front of the two women, nearly begging Crowley just to talk to "Mr. Fell". They knew what had to be done, it was long due. Crowley's mind was more clear than it had been in weeks. Along with a clear mind, they took off their shades.
Aziraphale entered mere seconds later. The bookshop instantly lit up. Crowley had always wondered whether it had anything to do with the fact that Aziraphale was an angel, or whether it was their own clouded brain just imagining things. Either way, they could feel joy bouncing off the walls.
Crowley could not be sure whether it was their own, or Aziraphale's.
They both spoke up at the same time. Crowley of course felt the urgency to speak their part, afraid that if they didn't speak now, they'd have to hold their peace forever.
Yet, as their Angel, with a pearly white teethed smile, excitedly asked to go first. Of course, Crowley caved and gave them the floor.
Crowley's heart had been full. So full. Fuller than they had allowed to feel, maybe ever. Definitely since the Fall.
Which was why when it started to crumble, the damage was all the more finite.
They heard Aziraphale's monologue. The promises, the innocent belief in Heaven and its supposed Goodness.
Something inside Crowley chipped.
Crowley didn't actually need to breathe, they didn't require oxygen. It was something they had picked up over the years, to blend in. It was automatic now, to breathe. This was why, when Crowley's breath staggered and the pain travelled throughout their lungs toward their heart, they felt the urge to inhale deeply.
Crowley reminded Aziraphale, of the offer made to rejoin Hell. How they'd turned it down. How Crowley and Aziraphale had their side.
"Of course, you said 'no' to Hell. You're the bad guys."
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"Tell me you said 'no'." Crowley wasn't sure it had ever been so quiet when the two of them were together. They could not hear a thing, as if everything and everyone had paused. They repeated themselves at the silence, "Tell me you said 'no'."
"You're not the Angel I thought you were.'
They didn't speak the words, of course. As a mantra, it echoed through their mind.
"Now I can say my bit, yeah?" The Angel nodded. "'Cuz if I don't say it now, I probably never will."
Crowley narrates all their thoughts as they appear. From the very beginning, to the very moment in that very bookshop.
"I would like to spend..." Crowley could not get the words out. Emotions were starting to take a toll on them. Frustration and confusion about the Angel's wishes, their own admiration for said angel tangled throughout.
The worst part was that, Crowley had seen. They'd seen what was possible. They'd seen it with Beelzebub and Gabriel, two of the most opposite and now joined together. Crowley had seen what was possibly, it had given them hope.
Crowley had been hopeful. Foolishly so, as it turns out. Hope is a traitorous four-letter word, and it had infected Crowley.
They didn't have it in them to properly study Aziraphale's face as they made the suggestion; the two of them, "going of together". It was one long thought, strung together with a haphazardly formed sentences.
Crowley's thought about backing down at some point during the whole confession, but they'd been in too deep by then.
"Just be an us. What do you say?"
They daren't consider any answer. Mind never having been more blank than it was at that moment.
Aziraphale stepped forward, their eyes still filled to the brim with the angelic love. "Come with me."
The traitorous sense of Hope flooded through Crowley.
"We could make a difference." It was foolish of Aziraphale, so Crowley thought. There was no way to break something down, not when you're part of it.
Crowley deflected, of course. "You can't leave the bookshop." They muttered.
It was then that Crowley realised, Aziraphale's eyes weren't full of love, they were in fact filled with tears. "Oh, Crowley."
"Nothing lasts forever."
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Years upon years rushed through Crowley's mind. Memories of joy and love and companionship, all memories with Aziraphale.
"No. No, I don't suppose it does." Crowley lifted their tinted shades to their eyes, shielding themself.
They heard Aziraphale's pleas, begging them to come to heaven, as angels. Together. It nearly reached them, nearly made them doubt.
"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."
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"Oh, I understand. In fact, I think I understand it a lot more than you do." Crowley watched as Aziraphale bit their inner cheek; Aziraphale was sulking, Crowley realised. Mourning.
It was that silence again. The deafening kind, the type that had never occurred before between them two. Crowley decided to point it out.
"Do you hear that?" Crowley would ask. In frustration, Aziraphale answered. "I don't hear anything."
Crowley didn't waste a breath. "That's the point. No nightingales."
"We could have been us."
Before Crowley realised what they were doing, they'd made their way to Aziraphale. Crowley's hands on their collar, pulling Aziraphale close in a kiss.
The kiss resonated a lot of anger, frustration. Emotions that were currently taking up a lot of Crowley's brain, but underneath them resided their love for Aziraphale. Crowley knew they needed to make sure they'd come across, so Crowley pressed harder; smushing their lips together.
Aziraphale felt reluctant against them; just compliant, not returning. Crowley felt a hesitant hand on their lower back, and pressed even harder before releasing.
Aziraphale breathed shakily, as Crowley held theirs.
It was that silence again
"I forgive you."
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The shame flooded Crowley once more. It started to rip them apart, voices in their head taunting. 'An angel? And a demon?' 'You two, the two of you, really?' 'Opposite sides.'
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"Don't bother."
Crowley waited by the Bentley. Watched as Aziraphale ascended. Then drove away, alone.