Chapter Text
Chapter Eight: Home Movies
At first the screen was just static, then weaving and repeating lines before Crowley gave the television a good thump and the picture resolved into a view of Aziraphale’s shop from somewhere above the doorway.
“Do you really have a security camera?”
“Of course not. I couldn’t risk Heaven checking that sort of surveillance. Besides, it’s tacky.”
The footage was black-and-white, but they could hear the sound of Aziraphale’s gramophone playing something soft. On the screen Aziraphale was near-by, dusting the shelves and humming along. Suddenly Crowley burst into the shop. He had a bag from Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death that he tossed in Aziraphale’s direction. Aziraphale fumbled but managed to catch the bag. He glared at Crowley.
“And a ‘good morning’ to you too, my dear,” the screen Aziraphale said coolly.
But the recorded Crowley didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he seemed too distracted to notice much of anything. He paced with anxious energy from a tall bookshelf to Aziraphale’s desk to the mid-sized television he had finally convinced Aziraphale to get. As he went, Crowley touched things, tossed around trinkets and moved them from one meaningless place to another.
Aziraphale watched him with a frown and took a look inside the bag Crowley had given him. “Oh, how lovely! Fresh croissants! I didn’t know Nina served these.”
“She’s trying them out,” Crowley muttered while he built a precarious pile of used teacups. He waved his hand and the cups flew through the air toward the kitchen.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished. “The shop is open! You know better than to be so obvious with your miracles!”
Crowley collapsed onto his usual seat on the sofa and let his head flop over the back of it. “Obvious, huh? Maybe I AM good at avoiding the obvious.”
Now Aziraphale looked concerned. “What do you mean? Is everything alright?”
There was a long silence on the screen, but from where Crowley sat watching it, he had a plenty loud soundtrack pounding in his ears. He was starting to remember this now. It hadn’t gone well.
Beside him, Aziraphale looked just as red-faced and uncomfortable. “Do we have to do this?”
Crowley winced but nodded. “I don’t think we can go home until we remember what brought us here in the first place.”
On the screen their past selves were dancing around each. It was so strange to see it from the outside. Past-Aziraphale was asking questions and past-Crowley was evading them. The same thing they always did in one direction or the other.
“Crowley, stop being ridiculous and tell me what’s bothering you!”
Crowley firmed his jaw and finally looked right at Aziraphale. “Nina asked how long we’ve been together.”
Immediately Aziraphale’s face went tense. “Oh. Of course. She wanted to know how long we’ve been friends. It’s nice that we can tell people about that now. You know, the parts humans would understand.”
Nina hadn’t been asking about their friendship. Crowley remembered. She’d been coy and teasing, with a bit of mischief, asking if he and Aziraphale...No, assuming that he and Aziraphale were a couple. Romantic. Like humans liked to do.
And right now Crowley could still feel the ghost of the feeling that question had given him. It was like colors had shifted down the spectrum, like he’d finally seen through an optical illusion that he’d never thought to question.
Angels didn’t love like that. Demons didn’t love at all. Crowley knew that. It was obvious, the most obvious thing in creation. Why would he even consider an alternative? But even while he’d thought that, he’d felt an incredible giddiness filling him. His thoughts had caught up soon enough.
Angels, demons, Heaven, Hell. Crowley had built his whole identity around not giving a toss about what any of them thought. Why should this be any different? Of course he felt love! He loved a million stupid little things, stupid big things, and...and one magnificent bastard of an angel.
It was an astonishing revelation, burning bright across Crowley’s brain. But it was also obvious. It fit into place in his heart with simple familiarity. He wasn’t just in love, he’d been in love for a very long time.
Now Crowley watched that revelation as it swept through the Crowley on the screen. He saw himself crack a small smile in wonder.
“Do you ever think about love, angel?”
And this was when things had started to fall apart. When Aziraphale had physically recoiled from him, immediately babbling about the nature of angels and loving all things. It was painfully clear how panicked he was.
It was also awful to watch. Crowley looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Could’ve done without these memories, honestly.”
“...I’m sure,” Aziraphale said. “It’s a difficult rehash for me as well. I’m sure we’ll do our best to forget them the human way once things are back to normal.”
Crowley ground his teeth. “Right.”
He knew he should stop, that Aziraphale was scared, but the feeling was just so BIG. They could be in LOVE. They could sit close and laugh and tease like always but also touch! They could meld their spirits and lives around each other! They could bloody KISS! Maybe even more!
And Crowley grabbed a throw pillow and nearly ripped it apart with the force of his paradigm shift. Surely Aziraphale would understand! Surely Aziraphale would see!
“It’s just,” Crowley said, “I know we can be anything now. It’s not weird to be considering, ah, significantly new ideas. Definitely new. Not long-held and suddenly staring us in the face or anything.” Crowley bit his lip and darted a glance at Aziraphale. “It could be, you know, allowed.”
“Yes, allowed but not welcome!” Aziraphale cried, suddenly sounding absolutely wretched. “Why are you doing this, Crowley? I know how you feel and...and there’s no need to hurt me like this!”
Crowley’s face went slack, then angry. He stood and paced toward Aziraphale. “Hurt you?! How can you possibly...I’m trying to…”
“No!” Aziraphale looked fierce and pained and heartbroken. “Stop it! We CAN’T touch!”
And in a desperate bid to keep a piece of distance between them, Aziraphale grabbed a book and held it up like small shield.
In the footage, everything started to go grainy. Crowley saw the book begin to glow and the light of it expanded outwards. Soon the whole screen was white, then black as the tape ran out.
Crowley didn’t move. At some point the sofa had shifted under him into some very familiar cushions. There was a smell in the air from millions of well-loved pages. If he looked around he knew he would see his home, or at least the closest thing he really had to one. But he didn’t look. He wasn’t ready.
So. They’d gone through all that nonsense over the idiotic idea of a demon being in love. Sure. Why not.
And he was going to have to apologize for it. For pushing, for hurting Aziraphale, for putting him in such a vulnerable position. And it would be awful, but they would be fine. Sooner or later. Their friendship had been through worse and so had Crowley’s heart.
There was a sound next to him, something startling enough that Crowley moved without thinking. Aziraphale was sat close, one thigh pressed to Crowley’s, and he was sobbing.
“Angel!” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulder and, stars, it felt so warm, like it both healed him and hurt him in the same touch. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re out, we’re safe. It’s...It’s going to be okay now!”
But Aziraphale just cried harder. “Why, guh, why are you so good to me?”
“I’m not—”
“You ARE! You’re nice, you’re kind, you’re generous and gentle and loyal and forgiving! And I don’t deserve it!”
Crowley hesitated. His usual instincts had him snarling at the compliments, but he couldn’t bring himself to play games of good and evil right now. “Stop, you don’t...Of course you deserve...Stuff.”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t deserve it because even after everything you’ve given me, I always just want more! And even when you finally couldn’t ignore my greed anymore, you still tried to be so kind about it.”
He sniffed hard a few more times but managed to calm down a little. He looked at Crowley with watery eyes. “Oh my dear, I hate that my feelings have become such a burden to you, but I have to say it just this once. Properly.” He took Crowley’s hands and the touch was like cozy fire-crackers. “Crowley, my darling demon, I love you so very much.”
Abruptly the fire-crackers were in Crowley’s chest and making a lot more noise. “Ahhh. What was that?”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to play dumb, silly. I don’t know when exactly you figured out how ardent my passion for you is, but I assume it was sometime before the shopkeepers’ association meeting I organized a while back. I know I was upset at the time, but I suppose you saved me quite a bit of embarrassment if you weren’t interested in returning my feelings.”
While he spoke, Crowley began glancing around the shop. Were they really out of the romance-fantasy lands? Everything felt normal. Well, most things. Apart from the obvious one holding his hands. Crowley could hear the outside traffic and a passing young woman using an impressive amount of swears to describe an album she liked. He could see a plate with the half-eaten scone Aziraphale had forgotten a month ago which Crowley kept putting in more and more obvious locations to see when it would be noticed. Things felt boring and flawed and real.
But also blessedly momentous.
Aziraphale was still speaking. “But you see, Mr. Arnold was already quite afraid of snakes and you made yourself into such a big one, my dear. Perhaps we could send him a gift basket? To help him start leaving his flat again?”
Crowley frowned and swiftly put a hand over Aziraphale’s mouth. Then he had to clear his throat twice before he could get past the thought of angel lips. “Wait. How in the world could you be in love with me? We just spent several relative weeks taking a thorough look at what you find attractive and I very obviously don’t fit the bill.”
He removed his hand and Aziraphale blinked back at him incredulously. “What are you talking about, you complete dunderhead?”
Aziraphale stood and walked among his shelves. “I was looking for characters to fill my fantasies for all the time I knew I couldn’t have you. Is it truly surprising that I was drawn to heroes who were…”
He picked up a copy of Hamlet. “Dramatic.”
At another shelf he pulled out two volumes from a set. “Proud and Clever.”
Under a pile of papers, he found and fished out Frankenstein. “Strong.”
Aziraphale displaced a pile of paperbacks and held up a worn copy of Dr. No. “Exciting.”
He stacked the books in front of Crowley then sighed and opened a box beside the telly that was clearly hiding his DVD collection. He held up Star Wars. “Brave.”
And then, more gently, he took out Everything, Everywhere, All At Once. “And Wise.”
Aziraphale tenderly put the films on top of the books, but didn’t meet Crowley’s eyes. “They were always characters I enjoyed, but I loved them for how they reminded me of you. I built imagined worlds with them. Always deeper and more substantial, to serve as better substitutes to keep me from reaching out to you. First for our safety and now...Now as a twisted form of respect for you, I suppose. To keep me from imposing.”
Oh no. Crowley could feel actual, blessed tears forming in his eyes. He coughed. “You know, I’m a demon. You...You probably shouldn’t try so hard to respect me.”
Aziraphale looked up, clearly ready to be cross again, but he blinked at the doubtless unforgivably sappy expression Crowley could feel growing on his face.
“I, um,” Crowley scratched at his hair. “I didn’t. Know. I didn’t realize that you felt...Or that the shopkeepers’ meeting was supposed to be, ah, special.”
“I turned it into a Regency ball, Crowley,” Aziraphale said breathlessly.
He shrugged. “That seemed like something you would do.” His voice got quieter. “And I wasn’t trying to reject you or confront you or whatever when I came in here talking about love.”
Aziraphale came closer. He perched on the arm of the sofa without taking his eyes away from Crowley for a moment. “Then what was it? What were you trying to say?”
Crowley was silent for a long moment. He was scared. Oh humanity, was he scared. Why was it so hard to give an answer that they both basically knew? “I wanted...Nina said it and she was right. And I didn’t know. Maybe it makes me an idiot but I didn’t know I even could feel that way, let alone that I already did.”
He looked up high to keep his eyes from leaking. It was okay, this would be fine. Aziraphale had even gone first. “I, I hated seeing you with them. Those fantasy lovers of yours. I didn’t even know why, it just felt like I’d lost something...well, precious.”
Aziraphale gave a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry you had to bear that pain. If it helps, they’re all quite definitely my exes now, if they were ever anything else before.”
“Yeah, well, half of them still managed to give you hickeys in the meantime,” Crowley muttered.
“And you made them explode into confetti.”
“True.” Crowley smiled. “That part was fun.”
The silence came back, but it was lighter now. Because, after all, what was there really to be afraid of? This was Crowley’s best friend. They were a team. A bond. A relationship already formed. A new name wasn’t going to take anything from them, just give.
And Crowley could give too.
“I love you, angel.”
His voice cracked a little on the last word. But that was only because it felt so good to say. Aziraphale’s expression instantly changed from gentle placidity to a tearful giddiness.
“Really?” Aziraphale squeaked.
“Really!” Crowley replied, just as enthusiastic.
Aziraphale bounced and fanned his face. “Oh my! I’m all aflutter!”
Crowley grinned. “I feel like I’m being electrocuted, but in a good way!”
“I feel like I need to kiss you very hard and immediately!”
Crowley whooped and pulled Aziraphale in by the lapels, more mashing their mouths together than kissing, but they figured it out eventually. Then the kisses became STUPENDOUS...and then heated…and then notably on more and more skin typically covered by clothing.
0-0-0
“So Han is the cynical smuggler who helps them, but Luke is the one who becomes a Jedi.”
“And gets that novel light-based sword?”
“It’s a lightsaber, but yeah. Honestly, how can you possibly know so little about Star Wars, but still want ‘Hans’ to—OUCH! No pinching! Exposed nipples are not an excuse for pinching!”
“After the number of swats, gropes, and bites you’ve already given my behind, I hardly think you can complain. Just like you can’t complain about what media I’m acquainted with when you didn’t know about one of the most famous authors in English history!”
“There can’t be THAT many people who know her books!”
“She’s on the ten pound note, Crowley!”
“Wait, really?”
“Yes! Let me fetch one from my wallet. Sorry to lean dear, I just—ACK! Fiend! That’s it, nipple pinches for you for all eternity!”
“Oh fine, far be it from me to resist divine punishment to...Well, I guess I can get on board if you’re going to do it like that.”
“Far be it from me to resist temptation. Still, I don’t want to spend the entire day abed. I want to show you off to the world too.”
“Yeah? Yeah. I’d like that. We could do a picnic at St. James?”
“Oo! Perhaps I could read to you and stroke your hair?”
“Why not? After all, I know you have great taste in stories, angel.”
And they kissed, again and again, happy to keep writing their own romance.
The End