Author's note: As of now, I've only seen the show, so sorry about that!
I bought the book, but decided not to read it yet, as I wanted this story to be written in my own style, and I'm prone to adapting the style of any book I'm reading.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new story as much I enjoy writing it! :)
Sleep wasn't something he could do. As an etherial being of energy, he didn't need rest. Not in the way humans did anyway. But he found peace in those little things he had picked up over the years. Just like food, he simply liked to indulge in some sleep now and again- even though meditation would be a more accurate word for it. He never drifted off- always stayed conscious, and he never dreamt.
It also explained why there was a bedroom in his small flat above the bookshop.
It mostly existed for his own enjoyment. Customers never got to see his private lodgings, and there was no need for such an elaborate cover, for, as sad as it sounds, Aziraphale had never befriended any humans. Yes, everyone liked him, and he, in turn, liked spreading love and joy; but apart from that? He had never gotten to know any of them well enough to call them a friend. And it was fine! Momentary pleasantries and small miracles were what he did best. It was his way of doing his job, and reminding the humans life wasn't so bad after all.
The angel had permitted himself the rare liberty of taking off his shoes and coat. With his hands folded across his stomach, he relaxed, and let his thoughts wander. He had helped avert the apocalypse, and lived the horrid, but terribly thrilling, life of a demon for one day. How fascinating it had been! How glad he was they had survived together! How glad he was to know him.
Unbeknownst to the angel, a soft smile lit up his features. He was a being of love, which meant he loved every living thing. However, the love he felt for his counterpart was different. The demon's presence increased his appetite for life. Whenever Crowley was there, Aziraphale felt liberated, and excited. Sometimes, he caught himself admiring this wonderful being of darkness, and hoped he wouldn't notice. Whenever Crowley looked at him, the angel would innocently lower his gaze, but as soon as the demon looked away again, he would shoot him another admiring look, consciously this time, even if it turned out to be the just the briefest of glances.
Crowley on the other hand wasn't home. He only went there to water and demean his plants, when humans were particularly annoying, or to consult his books (most of which had been provided a certain angel). Therefore, he didn't own a bed either.
Once the outer-worldly couple were certain they were safe from their respective superiors, they had gone out for dinner at the Ritz. It was a place both of them enjoyed. Aziraphale for the quality of the food and the love put into it, Crowley for the the excellent spirits, and the rich clientele, filling the air with greed and arrogance.
Once dinner was done, the angel suggested they go to the British Museum. Not for the art, of course. Most of the exhibits they had seen made themselves. Aziraphale even supervised the creation of the Rosetta stone. No, the reason he wanted to go, were the people. If the apocalypse had taken place, none of it, and none of them would be there. A museum was the perfect place to experience quiet, peaceful, everyday life. To the angel's surprise, Crowley agreed, admitting that he had had enough of extraordinary things for a while.
They stayed there past closing time, talking about the old days, and laughing at anecdotes connected to some of the artworks. One thing lead to another, and so they ended up at the bookshop once again, drinking red wine like they had done a couple times before.
It was only in the early hours of the next day, when they decided to sober up and part company.
Up until then, Crowley had forgotten all about his car. The end of the end of the world had been more important- and so had his best friend. However, there was a point when he wanted nothing more than to be alone with his beloved Bentley, and think about the things that had happened.
It was exactly what he was doing now. He had lost any concept of time, and it was alright. He had all the time in the world now.
For most of his journey, Crowley's mind was blank. He simply followed the road with his eyes, until eventually, the inevitable happened, and thoughts crept unnoticed into his mind. He thought about Aziraphale, and the way he looked at him when he thought he wouldn't notice. It was annoying, a little embarrassing even, and it was the sweetest thing Crowley had ever seen.
Yes, Aziraphale was an angel, he loved everything, blah, blah. The demon was tired of telling himself that he wasn't special. As someone who was universally hated by everyone- heaven, earth, and hell alike- a little love felt good. After all, he used to be an angel too, and the only thing that set him aside from the other fallen ones, was that he hadn't forgotten what it was like. He had enjoyed the day in the shape of his best friend for multiple reasons. For one, Crowley enjoyed seeing that heaven was just as terrible a place as hell. At least demons were unapologetically awful, whereas the angels were living behind this sickeningly sweet facade of false praise and politeness. It had been such a joy to see it all crumble, if only for a moment.
But there was another reason why Crowley had liked being an angel again; simply because he got to be the good guy for once. Granted- Aziraphale was just as popular amongst his fellow angels as he was amongst the demons, but still. It was the idea, of being able to make someone happy, or avert a catastrophe without risking his whole existence, was relieving.
The angel had been right- deep down, he was still good. As much as he enjoyed his demonic existence, he hated the one-sidedness of it all. There was more than just good and evil. There was something in between. This was another reason he was glad to know Aziraphale. While he was very dutiful, he wasn't exactly loyal to his side, as he had proven during those past days. He wasn't as awful as the rest of his lot. He was also more than just an angel. He was HIS angel.