Nostalgic

Nostalgia

Aziraphale and Crowley exited the restaurant, jumping in the Bentley for possibly the millionth time together and started heading down the street in silence. The Angel stared out of the window, reminiscing in the evening. Most of the night was going swimmingly but blamed himself for making it awkward. Aziraphale wished he could prove to Crowley how much he did like him. Maybe another movie, but what would films do if it just made Crowley question their relationship. He thought he always went out of his way to make Crowley smile. "God," he prayed in his thoughts, "if I don't make him happy going to dinner with him, then please, show me what would," cause the world knew Aziraphale would do everything for Crowley. He switched his eyes to the driver. Caught in traffic, Crowley was almost asleep at the wheel.

 Aziraphale realized Crowley's hair was almost the color of the wine. Side by side, closer than across a table, it was noticeably more brilliant. The red captured the light from the streetlamps and shined a beautiful color of Asters. He was staring and Crowley started shifting in his seat in the quite.

"Sorry. For the scene. Did mean it like that. I know you, I should start acting as I do." Crowley murmured softly as if breaking the silence in the car would destroy both of them. He still stared out towards the car in front and didn't dare look back at the angel. Aziraphale sighed. "Maybe we should drink less. Films seem good with me. We could go back to Lido. I promise I won't be uh - unbelievable drunk at least not all the time we're together." He smiled at that and eased the Bentley up a few yards. 

Aziraphale eyes just doughed at Crowley blaming himself for something he did. "Don't blame yourself." He said softly.

"Then who? It was me who got us into the Armageddon and what not. Hard not to blame myself for everything." Even though he covered his eyes with black-tinted, it was obvious that Crowley was disturbed. Was this the alcohol? Aziraphale didn't understand. Crowley was so cold and forward, it was hard to see him be all fuzzy emotionally. 

"Stop that. Stop the Car"

"If you'd stop ogling me you'd see the car has been stopped for the past fifteen minutes." Now,  Crowley looked over at Aziraphale and noticed his stern, sad expression. He quickly buried his face in the steering wheel. Again, Aziraphale thought of his mannerisms and found an oddly pleasant reminder that the demon was still there with him. "I'm so sorry, Angel, my pride is getting the better of me. I need - I need to shut up, don't I." Crowley got up and straightened himself out, and returned his gaze towards Aziraphale. "It's just all the chaos has gotten my bones twisted up, I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe the wine wasn't the thing I needed after all -"

"Crowley, stop that," Aziraphale stated sterner than before and the demon tensed, "Stop blaming yourself and the wine and fucking pay attention to me and not the bloody road." He softened a little bit to seem less angry than he was, "You, despite your tenacity for disaster and guilt, are a stupidly solid bloke and I love to go places with you and see fucking Braden Copper movies... But you got to get a grip of yourself, Crowley, and tell me what you're happy going on from here with. Cause I'm in the dark. I don't care if alcohol is involved or not I just want to see you as happy as you were before heaven and hell hit the fan." Aziraphale signed again and placed a hand on Crowley's shoulder, trying to cool any burn he might have caused with his words. Aziraphale couldn't handle himself when something he said hurt anyone, especially Crowley, but hated to see his one and only friend in such pain.

It was quiet again for a while down the road.  Aziraphale never took his hand away from Crowley and in return, Crowley continued to look as disturbed as he was before. Maybe because of the Angel's presence in the Bentley or his words striking a chord, Aziraphale couldn't tell, and just stared at Crowley, the perfect mess he was. He couldn't help but remember all the times they've fought. They've bickered in the Met, on many occasions crossing the English channel, he thought the even bickered in Lido, over the people receiving awards. Aziraphale could help but wonder if their positions as demonic and angelic made them naturally juxtapose in everything. Then why would he always want the best for him? Always liked to see him smile and laugh. Oh, Aziraphale was confused and his stomach was full of butterflies. 

Soon they came to Aziraphale's book store and the car stopped. The Angel gave a glance over to the Demon and started to crack open the door to leave. Before he could slip out, Crowley latched a hand to Aziraphale's. 

"Um- YOU" He blurted out as if he didn't realize he was speaking," You wouldn't mind if I stayed at your place tonight?" Crowley spoke sheepishly. "If anything I want to start off the rest of my time on Earth talking to you, Angel." Aziraphale was shocked by the confession but could help but give in to the request. Crowley's face lit up, let go of Aziraphale's hand, and jumped out of the car.