Chapter Text
The table at the Ritz was silent. Crowley didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Aziraphale didn’t either.
The waiter was at the side of the table again, and Aziraphale hadn’t even opened the menu yet. Usually, Aziraphale would order first, then Crowley would follow. But Heaven had changed him.
“I’ll have a glass of wine.” Crowley said, looking up towards him.
He nodded, turning to Aziraphale. “And for you, sir?”
Aziraphale looked up in shock, then back at the menu. “Uh.”
“He’ll also have a glass of wine.” Crowley replied. “And the crepes.” The waiter nodded again, leaving them alone.
Aziraphale looked up towards him, reaching his fingers into his tie and loosening it a bit. “Thank you, my dear. It has been a while since I have done this.”
Crowley smiled. “Anytime, angel.”
The waiter returned with the bottle and two glasses, pouring them both a good amount before stepping away and leaving the bottle at the table.
Crowley passed one of the glasses to Aziraphale, who took it and merely looked at it.
“You drink it.” Crowley urged.
“Right.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, moving the glass to his lips. He took a tentative sip, then sighed. “Haven’t tasted anything in ages.”
“Oi!” Crowley grumbled. “You tasted me this morning.”
Aziraphale shot him a look. “I meant food, you don’t count.”
“You wouldn’t want to eat me out?” He smiled wider as Aziraphale blushed.
“I-uh-” Aziraphale took another sip of wine.
The waiter placed the crepes on the table.
Aziraphale took a fork from the table, cutting into the crepe with the side of it. He speared the piece on the fork, moving it slowly to his mouth. Crowley watched.
When the crepe hit Aziraphale’s mouth, he melted from the pleasure. His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned happily.
“Crowley.” He said after he was done chewing. “You know me so well. You must have a bite.”
Aziraphale cut another piece off, put it on his fork, and offered it to Crowley. He opened his mouth automatically, and Aziraphale placed the crepe on his tongue. Crowley chewed and smiled.
“I can see why you like crepes so much.” He said, taking another sip of wine.
Aziraphale beamed. “These are perfect. Would you allow me to give you more?”
Crowley shrugged. “Sure.”
Aziraphale alternated between giving himself and Crowley bites of the crepes. Crowley only wanted a few more, then went back to watching Aziraphale finish them off.
“God, that was delightful.” He smiled, wiping his mouth off with the serviette.
“Blasphemy, angel?” Crowley’s eyebrows raised. “What the hell happened up there?”
Aziraphale blushed in embarrassment. “Ah. Yes. I suppose we do need to talk.” He glanced around.
“We do.” Crowley sipped more wine. “Perhaps we go back to the bookshop after our wine?”
Aziraphale nodded.
The rest of the meal was quiet.
After the last drop of wine had been drunk (by Crowley), they headed back to the shop.
They fell back into old habits, Aziraphale unlocking the door as Crowley stood back. Aziraphale held the door open for him, then allowed Crowley to step inside. Aziraphale closed the door, double checking that the “Very Closed” sign was hanging visibly in the door.
“Before we talk, you have to change your clothes.” Crowley begged. “I can’t stand seeing you in greys. You look like Gabriel.”
Aziraphale’s mouth became a thin line. “Right. I do believe I have some clothes upstairs.”
“What happened to your old ones?” Crowley leaned against a bookshelf.
He paused, reaching for the door handle upstairs. “They took them.” He said over his shoulder. “Won’t you join me upstairs, dear boy?”
“Right.” Crowley nodded, not that Aziraphale could see him, and followed him up the stairs.
When he got upstairs, Aziraphale was already in his room, so Crowley sat down at the table, eyeing the shelf that was the secret door.
“You found my secret room.” Aziraphale said matter-of-factly.
“Yes.” Crowley nodded. “And you visited me.” He turned towards him, and his breath caught in his throat.
He was wearing the sweater vest. The blue one. From 1953.
Otherwise, Aziraphale was wearing the same things he normally did, brown oxfords, beige trousers, and a white collared shirt.
But the sweater vest…
Before he knew it, he was striding towards Aziraphale and holding him tight. Aziraphale made an “umpf” sound from the contact but his arms eventually found their way to holding Crowley closer.
“I didn’t think you kept it.” He said. “But I saw Muriel wearing it one day.”
“It was too special to wear. It’s one of my only things that you’ve given me.” Aziraphale hummed. “I’m sorry if you thought I got rid of it.”
Crowley’s hands bunched up, holding the knit tight. “I care about you so much, Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale pulled a little away. “And I you.” He smiled, then kissed Crowley on the forehead.
They held each other for a bit more before Aziraphale broke away. A whine escaped Crowley’s lips.
“As lovely as this all is, I do believe we have to talk before we go forward.”
“Hmmphf.” Crowley sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand, pulling him towards the couch. They sat, leaning against the arms and facing each other.
“Why didn’t you stay when you saw me in the secret room?” Crowley broke the silence.
“I was still tying up my loose ends in Heaven.” Aziraphale looked genuinely regretful. “I am sorry I could not come sooner.”
Crowley shrugged. “Tell me what happened in Heaven.”
Aziraphale sagged against the back of the couch. “It was awful, Crowley. I am glad that you did not come, I feel so sorry for even asking you to do that.”
Crowley tipped his head, showing Aziraphale he should continue.
“It started out rather terribly. You see, they took my clothes, gave me the Archangel uniform and gave me the power that comes with it.” Aziraphale let out a shaky breath. “I got drunk on it. I delved into becoming the best Archangel I could be. I wanted both to gain their trust, and I lost sight of what was important.” Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley. “You.”
Crowley couldn’t help it, he smiled. “Mmm, go on.”
Aziraphale fished something out of his pocket. “I don’t quite remember how this got in my pocket, but it seemed to jump from pocket to pocket, showing up whenever I needed it.” He passed the object to Crowley.
He took it, tilting it to properly look at it. It was the picture Furfur had taken of them, Aziraphale and Crowley with the gun held in between them.
“I hadn’t forgotten about you, I was just…angry. I was angry at you for not coming with me, angry at myself for leaving you, angry at Heaven, angry at the Metatron, angry at myself for folding under the crushing weight of it all. And I just lost myself in the power and such.” Aziraphale waved his hand through the air. “But then I found the picture. And I remembered why I had done this in the first place: I did it for you. I don’t blame you for the choice you made, Crowley, and I hope you don’t blame me either. I needed to do that in order for us to live the life we both want.”
“What do you want?” Crowley interrupted.
“I would like more kisses, for one.” Aziraphale smiled, reaching for Crowley’s hand. “Dates, walks in the park, holding hands, normal human things for courting couples.”
“Angel, no one has said courting in centuries.” Crowley huffed jokingly. “It’s old fashioned.”
“Well, I do say we are the most old fashioned beings on this earth, darling.” Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowley’s hand.
Crowley sucked a breath in through his teeth.
“Anyway, I need to tell you the rest of it.” Aziraphale continued to hold Crowley’s hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “I got to planning. The angels trusted me, and I began to dig into files and such. I distributed the information that I gathered, about the Fall and about Gabriel’s disappearance, I made sure every angel knew the truth. I introduced them to some earthly delights, everyone has one. I started speaking with Shax, and we began further peace talks. It was going so well.”
Aziraphale smiled like the rest of the story pained him. Crowley squeezed his hand back.
“There was a revolt. The angels overthrew Metatron. I panicked and began to consult with Muriel. Did you know that they were a former Archangel?” Aziraphale paused, letting Crowley shake his head before continuing. “Anyway, I gave them back their memories, they’re in charge now.”
“What about the Book of Life?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah. I took that on my way out.” Aziraphale beamed. “As insurance.”
Crowley laughed. “As insurance.”
“Yes.” Aziraphale squeezed his hand. “Someone taught me that long ago.”
“So, have you left Heaven a big mess for Muriel?”
“No!” Aziraphale said hastily. “No, the angels adore them. Everything is fine.”
“What about the second coming?”
“That is…off the docket for now.” Aziraphale sighed. “Maybe forever, now that we’ve done our miracle.”
Silence settled in the shop. The clock in the corner continued to tick.
“I suppose you’ll want me to do the apology dance.” Aziraphale said, dropping Crowley’s hand and making a move to stand.
Crowley stood first, reaching his hand out to Aziraphale. The angel stopped moving, his head snapping up towards Crowley, a question in his eyes.
“Our last dance got interrupted, angel.” He smiled. “Would you join me for one more?”
Aziraphale placed his hand in Crowley’s. He stood, moving his other hand towards Crowley’s hip, but paused.
“Darling, who is leading?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley snaked an arm around his neck. “You are.”
Aziraphale’s hand rested on Crowley’s hip, then moved up towards his waist. Crowley hummed, a slow but gentle waltz.
As the night ended, Crowley was swaying with his angel, his forehead resting on his broad shoulder as Aziraphale’s gramophone continued to play Strauss.