It ties us together, but I've never been more afraid

Chapter 14: In the Church

Aziraphale was tired. He knew why he was so tired, being in war meant a lot of people were suffering and dying, and Aziraphale had been working over time. He tried to help as many people as he could, he really did, but it made him so tired.

His fatigue and chronic pain wasn't really helping anything. Neither was standing in front of some Nazis with a gun pointed at his face.

"You can't kill me. There'll be paperwork." Aziraphale complained but the three standing in front of him didn't care. He sighed, knowing that discoperation would not do anything to help with his pain (it might actually make the fatigue worse). Suddenly it felt like his feet were burning, but it was a distant pain.

So Crowley was doing something stupid.

Of course right at that moment they heard the door slam open and when Aziraphale turned to look he saw Crowley walking (hopping?) Down the aisle. That's why his feet felt like they were burning up.

"Oh! Sorry, consecrated ground. Oh! It's like," Crowley started as he walked closer and closer to the group of them, "being at a beach in bare feet." Aziraphale rolled his eyes slightly. The hopping around that Crowley was doing certainly wasn't helping his knee issues at all. Every time Crowley's right leg hit back on the ground Aziraphale could feel a distant sharp pain in his knee.

He wanted to tell Crowley to stop it, but it's not like he had much of a choice.

"What are you doing here?" Aziraphale asked. The last time he saw Crowley they went back to his place for a few drinks and he ended up sleeping in Crowley's bed.

How he had drunkenly managed to convince Crowley to sleep on the couch so he could have the bed by himself he didn't know, he didn't remember much of that night after Crowley had miracled him up a pillow for his back.

"Stopping you getting into trouble." Crowley said to him and something clicked a bit in Aziraphale's brain.

"I should have known. Of course. These people are working for you." Who else would the Nazis be working for if not someone demonic.

"No! They're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running around London blackmailing and murdering people. I just didn't want to see you embarrassed." Crowley said and Aziraphale tried not to think about the fact that Crowley seemed to care about Aziraphale's reputation, at least to a point.

"Mr. Anthony J Crowley. Your fame precedes you." One of the Nazis said and Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley again. When he had changed his name? Why hadn't he told Aziraphale that he did?

Why did Aziraphale care so much?

"Anthony?" Aziraphale questioned and he saw Crowley's face fall a bit as he still hopped around, trying his best not to completely burn his feet off.

"You don't like it?" Crowley asked and Aziraphale could hear a slight worry in his tone. Why did Crowley care if he didn't like it?

"No, no, I didn't say that. I'll get used to it." Aziraphale reassured quickly and Crowley gave him a little nod.

"The famous Mr. Crowley. Such a pity you must both die." Fräulein Greta said. Aziraphale couldn't entirely focus on what she was saying and turned back to look at Crowley again.

"What does the J stand for?" He asked and Crowley half shrugged.

"Er..." Crowley said while he stalled slightly. "It's just a J, really."

Anthony J Crowley and A.Z. Fell. They both had rather odd names for themselves. What would sound better in the future? A.Z. Crowley or Anthony J Fell? When they got married who would take whose last na-