An Ineffable History

Chapter Eighteen: Something so Flawed and Free

Devil's Dyke, London, 2019

Surprisingly enough to everybody, it worked. Somehow- whether through luck or talent or be it by Her plan- they managed to fool both Heaven and Hell. They celebrated that evening at the Ritz, "to the world," Aziraphale had said, I love you. After they had finished dining Aziraphale insisted that they should go to St. James, for old times sake. And Crowley had agreed without argument, smiling fondly at Aziraphale in a way that made his cheeks flush. They walked together, side by side, but not close, and Aziraphale couldn't help but notice the distance between them with a pang of disappointment. They walked next to each other with, hands swinging lightly at their sides as they vaguely took in their surroundings. Aziraphale thought that, for just a moment, he heard a bird singing in a nearby tree, surely he must have been imagining it; but maybe he hadn't- as at the same moment, Crowley turned his head towards the direction of the sound and brushed the back of his hand against Aziraphale's. Aziraphale seized the opportunity and took Crowley's hand, entwining their fingers. Crowley didn't say anything, didn't look at Aziraphale or their entwined hands, but he shifted an infinitesimal bit closer, shortening the distance between them so they could walk, hand-in-hand, through the spots they had frequented for the past three hundred years. They wandered for some time, with no particular place in mind. Eventually, as if by some twist of fate, they ended up in front of the bandstand. Crowley stiffened, his grip tightening in Aziraphale's hand, as if he was assuring himself that Aziraphale was still there. He looked at Crowley, saw his stiff posture and the way he purposely avoided looking at Aziraphale, and Aziraphale realized he had to make up for something. He coaxed Crowley into the bandstand and stood in front of him the way he had not a day ago when he rejected Crowley's offer. He kept a tight hold on Crowley's hand, and moved his free hand up to the side of Crowley's face.

"May I?" he asked, tapping Crowley's glasses gently with one finger. Crowley nodded slightly and tilted his head down so Aziraphale could gingerly slide the glasses off Crowley's face, revealing absolutely stunning saffron yellow eyes.

"You offered to run away with me." Aziraphale said simply. "And I said that I didn't like you, that there was no our side, that it was over between us." He held Crowley's gaze, the demon's expression gaunt and hollow. "I was trying to save you, to protect you from what I saw to be a doomed plight. But I hurt you also, and that is something I have never wished to do and something I hope I shall never do again. Crowley, my dearest," he gave Crowley's hand a comforting squeeze, "I will go anywhere with you, as long as we are together." It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as soon as Aziraphale spoke the words. Crowley stared with him with a melancholy expression for a moment before he took Aziraphale's face in his hands and kissed him desperately, pulling Aziraphale close against him.

"Angel." Crowley sighed against his lips.

"Crowley."

In the books and fairytales that Aziraphale had in his shop, this would be where the story would end- with a desperate and loving kiss- but he had a feeling that this wasn't the end, not quite yet.

Aziraphale noticed it gradually, the way they crept into each other's lives. First, it was the two white-winged mugs that found themselves in Crowley's flat next to a tea kettle that Aziraphale was certain hadn't been there in any of his earlier visits. Then it was the small plant or two that Crowley snuck into a sunlight corner of the bookshop- flourishing where they sat in their pots. Then it was the pair of glasses that Aziraphale found sitting on his desk, and the jacket that he left at Crowley's flat one evening. Slowly but surely, they began to take up more space in each other's lives until each room had something shared- an amalgamation of dark and light that somehow matched despite all logic saying otherwise. They spent far more time together, both of them reveling in being able to enjoy the other's company openly. They would walk together, hand-in-hand through St. James Park, each time sending a slight thrill through Aziraphale as they recalled events that had happened in the past, shared experiences that only they were left alive to remember. Days like those would usually be followed by a dinner out at some restaurant that one of them had heard about and decided to try, and then they would either go back to Aziraphale's bookshop or Crowley's flat and then indulge in far more...pleasurable, activities.