Chapter Text
“It would have been nice to have seen the place you told me about,” Aziraphale said, as he nibbled upon a teisennau gradell, savoring the sweetness of the currants studded throughout.
“Sorry. I didn’t think about it. We could go tomorrow?”
“Perhaps another time. I need to finish my taxes and settle my affairs.”
“That sounds rather ominous,” Crowley said, as if he hadn’t done that himself over the last few months, though he still couldn’t quite rid himself of his flat and the few large and difficult to move things he had in it. It made sense to keep it; he owned it outright and he put his phone there. And sometimes when he needed a place to hide hang out, he’d stay there and binge-watch the Golden Girls.
Crowley wondered if perhaps tomorrow as part of settling his own affairs, he should go to his flat and decide whether or not to destroy that statue of the two angels in a grapple that was in his entry.
“I should have noticed it coming. ‘The end of forever,’” Aziraphale said, quoting him.
“…how did you know about that?”
“You mutter it in your sleep sometimes,” Aziraphale said, taking a sip of sweetened tea tempered with milk. “By which I mean often. You often say it, whether you meant for me to hear it or not, and I didn’t quite know what you meant until the day you booked the tickets. I thought perhaps you were quoting a song that I was not familiar with, something you had made up perhaps.”
“Oh.” Crowley stared at his slice of bara brith, the speckled tea bread flecked with soft currants and sultanas. “I didn’t know that.”
“I suppose that there are things I have been remiss in asking about or telling you about too. Old habits die hard, I’m afraid. So instead of being upset, or more like…” Aziraphale took a moment to think. “Instead of lingering upon the upset, I think I should tell you some things I had omitted from our previous conversations about Asmodeus.”
“Is this to try to change my mind? Because my mind’s made up. I bought the non-refundable tickets too. You know, the one with that lousy airline, the, the evil one—”
“Goodness, Crowley. That is too hard to narrow down. These days they’re all evil. Just look at the legroom and the baggage fees and, and were you behind airline policy—?”
“Not me. Humans. I did come up with middle seats though. Bigger planes with more middle seats. An entire row of middle seats. Middle seats everywhere. So are you going to try to change my mind?” Crowley changed the subject back to the matter at hand.
“Perhaps. But it’s best you know the truth, in case…” Aziraphale trailed off.
“In case he tries something?”
Aziraphale gave a curt, tense little nod.
“Well. There are a few things I didn’t tell you about my time in Malibu that I had really ought to have told you,” Aziraphale began.
“Oh? Should I be concerned about these omissions?” Crowley asked.
“Maybe. Probably.”
Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to continue, his expression unreadable.
“First of all…I think. Erm, that is. You should ask him about the Fall. Specifically, how he fell. Because it ties into how you fell as well.”
“Not sure I follow.” Crowley’s brow furrowed.
“I think…that perhaps it would help to hear the perspective of someone who remembers what led up to the Fall,” Aziraphale said carefully. “Not that I entirely trust him, of course not! But it’s worth asking, I think. He was quite candid with me. And I would tell you, but I don’t think it’s my story to tell. Besides the fact that I may not have accurately remembered all the details.”
“Oh.” Crowley was silent for a long while, but then he gestured for Aziraphale to continue.
“Erm. And then there is also the matter of a child,” Aziraphale began.
“Which one? Jesus? The Antichrist? Jesus of the Second Coming? Some random kid? Has he been making Nephilim again?”
“No, no. Not that, of course not. Nephilim are entirely against the rules, and I doubt he’d break a rule so critically vital to the balance between Heaven and Hell. But I think he may have stumbled upon a startlingly obvious loophole that no one thought to close because no one has ever considered the possibility. After all, even right from the very beginning, flesh and individual forms were not looked upon very highly by those in management and—”
“Out with it, Aziraphale.”
“Erm. I. Please don’t be mad with me, I didn’t mean to omit this for so long…”
“I promise I’ll only be mad at him,” Crowley said.
“He wanted to create children. First with me, then you, if the experiment with me could be safely achieved and was successful,” Aziraphale gulped. “As I recall, he wanted to count them toward the legions of Hell. To bolster ranks and so forth.”
“Oh.”
Tensed, Aziraphale waited, expecting fireworks or lightning or merely even fire, and he glanced at the fire extinguisher. But Crowley merely sat at the kitchen table, looking pale and sick.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Aziraphale reached out to touch Crowley’s hand, but Crowley didn’t move or speak.
Aziraphale cleared away the plates and popped Crowley’s uneaten slice of bara brith into a lidded glass container, putting it away in the refrigerator.
Crowley sat as if frozen stiff, and after a few hours Aziraphale came back to check on him, but there had been no change to Crowley’s state.
So the angel picked him up, cradling him close, and took him to bed.
Crowley felt like he was in a state between ethereal and solid, fragile, and Aziraphale held him close for a moment before setting him down.
“There we are,” Aziraphale said. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley was changed into his favorite black silk pajamas, and tucked into the bed. Aziraphale brushed away a few crumbs of pollen that were still stuck to Crowley’s hair, untangling the strands that had been mussed by a bee’s antennae.
“Get some rest, love,” Aziraphale said, sitting down beside Crowley. Thinking better of it, he carefully undressed, hung up his clothes, and went through the lovely process of donning pajamas as well, enjoying the motion of unbuttoning and buttoning each lovingly hand-sewn individual button on his clothing.
He climbed in beside Crowley and waited, wondering what Crowley wanted.
Crowley seemed insensate at first but then moved into Aziraphale’s arms on his own and so Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley the way Crowley liked, so that the demon could wrap himself around the angel and rest his head upon Aziraphale’s chest. He murmured some sweet nonsense to Crowley, cradling Crowley in his arms.
Aziraphale could feel the demon leaning into his embrace, arms going around Aziraphale weakly at first before clutching him tight, and he knew the exact moment when Crowley fell asleep.