An Ineffable Love Story

Until I See You Again 💜

Things had been going wonderfully well in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship. Over the past two weeks, they had been inseparable. The couple had dined at the Ritz several more times, strolled through St. James' Park holding hands, and, much to Crowley's delight, kissed in a thunderstorm. Often, tangled up on the sofa in the bookshop, Crowley would fall asleep as Aziraphale lost himself in a story. It was perfect.

Unfortunately, things didn't stay that way.

Aziraphale had to go up to Glasgow for a series of lectures on fourteenth-century literature. On account of Crowley's burning hatred of this period of history, Aziraphale was leaving his demon at home.

Just before he began his three-day absence, the angel kissed Crowley's forehead as he slept on the sofa and left silently. He would miss the demon, but he wiggled with excitement as he sat in the taxi to the train station. He did love fourteenth-century literature.

Crowley woke up, expecting his angel to be beside him, but he had gone. He had a vague memory of a kiss, but he didn't know if his mind was playing tricks on him. The demon was alone again. Just like you deserve, whispered the little voice in his head, the words dripping with malice. He's seen sense at last. He doesn't want you, and he won't come back.

Feeling cold and empty, Crowley stood up and looked around, before miracling himself back to his apartment. It wasn't as nice as he remembered, but then again, nothing was as nice without Aziraphale. He felt numb, abandoned.

Crowley put on his black silk pajamas, climbed into bed, and buried himself under a mound of blankets. He wouldn't come out, he decided. He couldn't face existing without the angel. Crowley closed his golden eyes and sank into his horribly familiar dreams of darkness and torture and loneliness.

•••

Aziraphale was getting worried now. He had thoroughly enjoyed the lecture series, and had forked out quite a bit of money on buying a crateful of ancient books. They needed a lot of restoration, he thought happily. He could get started tonight, with his demon cuddled up next to him.

But he couldn't find Crowley. The angel had expected to find him waiting in the bookshop, with that cute excited look on his gorgeous face. He'd say, "Angel, you're back!" and then he'd kiss him and they'd sink into the couch and wouldn't move for hours.

Hopefully, Aziraphale checked his answering machine. Yes, that was it, Crowley had just popped out and he would've left a message to let Aziraphale know when he'd be back.

His voicemail was empty.

The angel paced the bookshop floor, agitated. He flapped his hands at his sides, muttering fussily to himself, until he came to a decision. He had to go to Crowley's flat to check on him.

What if Heaven or Hell had come to find him? What if he lay, dying, and Aziraphale never arrived to help him? He snapped his fingers.

Crowley's apartment was dark, and it took Aziraphale's eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloom. He was in Crowley's plant room, which was covered in floor-to-ceiling shiny black tiles, and its occupants cowered in terror of their owner's wrath. The angel walked along a hallway until he came to a door. He knocked politely, and when there was no answer, he turned the handle and crept inside.

There was a huge four-poster bed with dark drapes, and underneath at least five soft blankets was a dejected lump of a demon. Aziraphale approached uncertainly, and sat down next to the lump, which he prodded gently with one finger.

A shock of red hair emerged, followed by Crowley's face. He looked terrible — his beautiful eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were covered in tear tracks.

"My dear! What on Earth is the matter?" exclaimed the angel, his heart brimming with concern.

Crowley looked sheepish. "I thought... you weren't coming back. And even if you did, youwouldntwanttoseeme." He mumbled the last phrase under his breath, embarrassed. He doesn't even like you, hissed the voice. He's only here because he's an angel and he feels guilty. You're not special. You're nothing to him.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Why would I do that? Crowley, I love you. I need you. I've spent the last three days missing you so much I thought I'd explode."

The demon looked down. "I just..." he struggled to explain. "I just feel like I'm not worthy of your love, and any minute I'm going to wake up and these last two weeks will all have been a dream."

Aziraphale gently stroked Crowley's cheek, then lifted the demon's chin up. "You have never been more wrong," he said, then kissed him. The pair leaned in, pressing into each other as if it had been three years since they last saw each other. Crowley flopped back onto the bed so the angel was on top of him.

They separated, smiling. "I'm sorry," Crowley whispered.

"Not good enough," the angel responded, grinning coquettishly. "You need to do the little dance."

The demon obeyed, getting to his feet. "You were right, you were right, I was wrong, you were right." Crowley twirled and gave a curtesy.

"Beautiful." The angel smirked, before becoming serious. "Please try not to think like that, my love. I want to spend every minute of eternity with you, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

🖤🤍

~912 words~
This one was a bit darker but it has a happy ending! (I promise I won't break your hearts like Season 2 Episode 6 did.) I hope you liked it — please follow and comment if you did, it means a lot to me. Don't forgot to come back tomorrow for at least one more part! Thank you so much! xx