Why Angels Fall

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent. He'd enjoyed watching the Maître 'D prepare the Crepes Suzette at the table after a wonderful dinner, and as he slipped the last bite into his mouth, he savored the moment. The sweetness of sugar and the bitterness of orange zest danced playfully on his tongue. He opened his eyes and glanced over to see Crowley, staring intently at him, smiling contentedly.

"Well, Angel? As delicious as Paris?"

Aziraphale felt the blush flood his cheeks. He smiled shyly. Crowley remained staring, unblinking, at Aziraphale, who dropped his eyes to the empty plate. The angel giggled as he replied, "Well, this is the Ritz."

Crowley noticed the pink flush, the way Aziraphale averted his gaze, the small glaze of sugar on his lower lip. "Angel," he said, as he gestured ever so slightly to his own lower lip.

"Hmm, what?" Crowley began to reach across the table at the same time Aziraphale touched his own lip awkwardly and noticed the sticky spot. Crowley, pulled back his hand hesitantly. "Oh! Oh my. Silly me, I may have enjoyed that a little too much," Aziraphale chuckled as he lifted the white napkin from his lap and dabbed at the sugar. He looked at the spot on his napkin and felt a cloud of melancholy pass over him.

They'd just survived the Apocalypse, and saved the Earth and all of humanity, but Heaven and Hell had disowned them both. Aziraphale knew that he was now a Fallen Angel. And the last bite of crepes was gone. In that moment he realized that he no longer had a purpose. No more miracles meant no more need for the Arrangement. No Arrangement meant no more need for Crowley, or temptations or blessings. No more Crowley.

No more Crowley.

"Angel. Angel?" Aziraphale jerked out of his reverie as Crowley snapped his fingers. "Oh, Crowley. So sorry. My mind was...elsewhere." The angel's normally cheeky smile had transformed instead into a face full of furrowed concern. "Are you alright?" Crowley asked. Aziraphale forced a chuckle. "Oh yes. Just, you know, the last bite and no room for more." He patted his well-manicured hands on his stomach.

"Of course," the demon replied. "Lift home?"

"Actually, Crowley, tonight I think I might want to walk."

"Alright then. I guess until next time?"

"Well actually..." he paused and took a breath, "would you like to walk with me?"

"And leave my car?" Crowley wrinkled his nose as if he'd smelled something awful, like Hastur or Gabriel. The angel's face immediately fell into a little pout. Crowley hated that face. "Well, I suppose nothing will happen to it at The Ritz." Aziraphale instantly smiled, a smile that lit up the entire room. Crowley loved that face. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Let's go, Angel."

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They stepped out into the chilly night air and began their walk down Piccadilly. Lunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into champagne and dessert. It was dark and the streetlamps cast subtle halos in the thick air.

Crowley pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He wasn't much for the cold, being at heart a snake and a demon. Aziraphale, however, was warm. He thought it was from the many layers he chose to wear, but every few steps his arm would casually brush against Crowley's, and he'd feel even warmer. The demon could feel the heat radiating from his friend and slowed his pace to walk a little closer.

"All those fancy clothes keep you nice and warm, don't they? How many layers do you have on exactly?" Crowley reached over and lifted the edge of Aziraphale's coat to look underneath.