DISCLAIMER: Good Omens, its assorted angels, demons and the like, are the beautiful brainchild of Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Thank you, kind sirs, for lending us your babies with which to play with for a while :)
A/N: As always, my thanks to all you wonderful pepes for taking time out of your way to read and show support for the story. I appreciate it so much, especially right now. To be honest, there's some stuff going on in my life at the moment which is really tough and editing this story has been a virtual godsend. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving up some of your day to spend with it. It makes me so happy to share it with you all :)
Here's hoping that you enjoy the chapter!
~X~
~Sunday, April 7th - 2019~
A.Z Fell & Co's
Nine months to the Apex...
Crowley had invented selfies. So, it would hardly be a surprise to anyone that he did of course, have a number of social media accounts.
He had quite a collection of them, in fact and had for some time. Of course, none of them had ever been able to include Aziraphale. Not whilst they had both been kowtowing to their respective realms. This had changed following the Armag-Don't-even-bother. Crowley did in fact seem to relish the chance to plaster all his social media platforms with pictures of himself and Aziraphale; a sort of systematic 'fuck you' to the powers that be.
He had a rather ridiculous number of followers. Aziraphale hated to think just how he had attained quite so many.
Aziraphale had cause to wonder such things, because he was in fact engaged in something of a desperate act. An act he never before considered himself ever having been brought to, come Hell or... well, high water, appropriately enough.
He was stalking Crowley's Facebook page.
Very slowly. On his rather antiquated computer. With its very poor Internet connectivity. (Poor Aziraphale had no idea he could link up to the Internet on his new Smart Phone, of course; which would have reduced the inherent frustration that he was experiencing on account of his computers seemingly inexplicable need to buffer every few minutes).
Aziraphale never paid much attention to 'social media' in the past. That sort of thing was of no particular interest to someone like him. It seemed very facile and superficial, really. He couldn't quite understand Crowley's appreciation for the seemingly unabashed 'showing off' mentality of it.
Aziraphale spent an inordinate amount of time looking through Crowley's photos. It had, as a direct result, made him feel extremely naïve, narrow minded and ignorant.
Such captions of the two of them eating out at some restaurant, where Crowley had written: "Dinner out is always a treat with this one. Even when I'm shouting." And a whole mess of things prefaced by the hash tag symbol, which Aziraphale could not even pretend to understand. One picture in particular, which Crowley had taken whilst all but falling over the back of Aziraphale's study chair, arm about Aziraphale's shoulders and phone hiked up high above their heads, had garnered quite a few likes and love hearts from Crowley's plethora of Facebook 'friends' read: "When you want attention and he wants to READ. Desperate times, amiright?" #snekvsbook
Aziraphale took his reading glasses off and set them aside. Pinched his fingertips to the bridge of his nose and sucked in a deep breath, cutting off the wave of emotion that swept up suddenly inside of him.
It hit him. Just what it all meant.
Crowley was sharing him. Sharing them.
Unashamedly. With the world as his audience. His confessor.
He wasn't afraid. Not at all. With Hell off of his back, he was proud and staunch and unapologetic with his affections. It was obvious. Obvious from the loving, doting nature of the comments to which he had affixed any number of photographs he had taken of Aziraphale. Not all of which included Crowley.
"When you've worked a full day and still go outta your way to pick up that bottle of red. Hope the bastard knows how lucky he is."
"Nice sunset. Too bad about the bloody ducks."
"Ain't that a smile and a half? Should do his own toothpaste commercials."
"Hair seems fluffier than usual. New shampoo?"
And then, what really clinched it, so far as Aziraphale was concerned. A photograph which he remembered being taken. Not so long after they had imbibed their first inaugural sip of champagne at the Ritz, having swapped back bodies following their near executions at the hands of their respective realms. A picture Crowley had insisted on taking of the two of them; his smile slightly giddy, Aziraphale's soft and light as ever. Champagne flutes a merrily hoisted towards where Crowley's phone had been perched at the end of his distended arm.
The caption read: "When you realize you damn near lost everything, but gained everything instead. Cheers to you, ya bastard."
Aziraphale had quite a time remembering when last he had cried. He wasn't at all sure that he had. Not really. Not truly.
He did then.
"Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing."
And just enough of a bastard to not at all be worthy of you, my dear. Not in the very least.
Crowley's relationship status was set to "It's complicated."
~X~
~Monday, April 8th - 6:00pm~
The Greenhouse - London
He had arranged for a quaint table at one of his very favourite restaurants. It was quite pricy.
Needless to say, Alice was every inch out of her element. She relaxed considerably however, the second she approached the table and saw the gentleman she had come to recognise as Alexander Fell rising from his seat and smiling in such a reassuring manner that it immediately set her nerves to rest.
"Good evening, my dear." He said and in doing so, just about reduced her to dribbly goop in her seemingly more unsuited by the moment K-mart brand high heels. Because... wow. She had heard Anthony's stories of course and he had been quite definitely correct in saying that a picture of Alex did not do the piece at all the justice it deserved.
He was a little chubby. He wore a tartan bow tie. His outfit looked smart and well cared for but considerably outdated. His hair was stark white, though he did not appear to be much older than his late-forties and it looked as soft as a cloud with ever so slight curls towards the tips.
His eyes were beautiful. There was no other words by which to adequately describe it. The effect of his smile; warm, genuine and ever so deeply imbued in those soft and gentle looking blue-green eyes was almost debilitating.
Oh my God... if he's not the absolute cutest fucker what ever existed.
"You look lovely." He further remarked and though it was quite obvious (at least from her limited human perspective) that he was as camp as a row of tents, she still found herself blushing.
"Alex. It's so nice to meet you, finally." She stepped up to the table. "Alex" took her ever so gently by the hands and lent a brief kiss to each of her cheeks. He gestured for her to turn, so as to permit him to assist with the removal of her coat. She melted a little more. "This is very fancy, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's very nice." Alex (Well, Aziraphale as we best know him) remarked, folding Alice's coat across his arm. He shuffled over to pull her seat out, tucked it in once she had properly installed herself and then gestured towards the coat room. "Do make yourself comfortable. Won't be but a moment."
Alice took a sip from her water, found herself sitting up much straighter and tighter than usual. She cast surreptitious glances about the restaurant; at the dim lighting, the ever so elegantly dressed persons perched up at near every table. It had a sort of quiet air to it what most restaurants she ordinarily frequented did not possess. Soft music played in the background. It was terribly... ambient, she supposed.
And quite so far, the nicest dinner date she had ever shared with a man. Platonic or not. And all she'd had was a sip of water.
Aziraphale returned from the cloak room, smiling still and slid down properly into his own seat.
"Thank you once more for agreeing to meet with me. I hope you don't think it terribly presumptuous, but I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Dom Perignon 2006 to share over dinner. My way of saying thank you for putting you in no doubt something of a terribly awkward position."
He had no sooner said this, than had a waiter appeared with two glasses of champagne. Aziraphale beamed radiantly at him, much as it seemed was his way with near everyone and uttered a soft 'Thank you' as the young man deposited their drinks upon the table.
"Oh, my god. Um... thank you." Alice said, smiling. Chuckling a little as she picked up her glass. "Thank you so much. That's... that's really sweet."
She held her glass out to him and they tapped them together. She took a sip. It was quite easily the most delicious drink she had ever tasted in her entire life. She actually put a hand to her chest as she lowered her glass back to the table.
"To be honest," She said. "I feel a little out of my depth. I don't... this isn't normally the sort of place I come to."
"Rest assured, that everything is on me tonight. You are granting me a kindness. It is the least I can do after messaging you out of the blue, like that." Aziraphale plucked his serviette up off of his place setting and whipped it out to its full length, laying it across the plain of his lap. Alice mimicked him, quietly relieved that a waiter hadn't taken the opportunity to do so. That might have felt just a little too awkward. "Please, do take a look at the menu. Order whatever you like."
"Oh, no, no I couldn't possibly. I'll just have something li-" Alice's eyes just about bugged from her skull as her eyes locked on something partway down the centre page. "Oh my god, they have lobster!"
"By all means, order it if it pleases you." Aziraphale said, looking plaintively unconcerned as he glanced over the menu for any recent additions he hadn't yet taken stock off. He had his set favourites, of course but it was always good to extend your palette where possible.
"It's far too expensive."
"Nonsense. If money can be spent on providing some further enjoyment to the world, then it is money well spent." He took another sip of champagne, took one finger off of the glass to gesture towards her menu. "I insist. If you do not order it, well I shall have no choice but to order it myself and set it down in front of you. Or send it home in a doggy bag or some such thing."
It raised a question of which Alice, and a few of the girls at the Grange had been pondering for some time, though hadn't felt at all comfortable raising it with Anthony (Aka: Crowley). It seemed she was now in as good a position as any to get the skinny.
"If you don't mind my asking," She said, setting down her menu and taking another sip from her glass. Aziraphale raised his brows amenably. "Speaking of the money thing... I mean... Cumquat drives this restored old Bentley-"
Aziraphale's brow twitched ever so slightly. "Cumquat?"
"Oh, that's what we call him at work. He didn't like Ant. Said it was too 'creepy crawly', whatever that means. So he got Cumquat." She lifted her own brown meaningfully. "Because he's a bitter little fruit."
Aziraphale thought this terribly apropos and could hardly keep from chuckling in response to it.
"Anyway... he drives this old Bentley which is in perfect condition, he wears designer clothes and expensive shoes and has a flat in the posh area of town..." Alice raised her hands in a universal expression of confusion, cocking her head slightly to the side. "Clearly he's doing all right for money. Why then is he working a low income job at a nursing home?"
Aziraphale didn't feel it would make much sense to inform the young lady that it had been he himself who had all but manipulated Crowley into joining the workforce, because he was a recently expunged demon from Hell who was finding his days hard to fill. And that the only reason for Crowley being so affluent in the first place was because he had magicked up every single pound that he had, rather than sincerely earning but a dime of it. The angel thought quickly on is feet however, and offered up in favour of an honest explanation:
"Ah, well. You see... Anthony came from something of a wealthy family." He paused a moment as the waiter whisked up to the table and deposited a bread roll to each of their side plates. Aziraphale made a cut down the middle of his and applied a good lashing of butter to each still warm portion. "He had quite enough to set himself up, but he had a... falling out with them some time ago."
Alice gave Aziraphale a sympathetic look, reaching across the table and cupping her palm about his wrist.
"Because he's gay?"
Aziraphale dithered on this a moment before rationalizing that there was an element of truth behind Crowley's being discharged from Hell on the basis of his affiliation with an angel. Though it did of course have nothing whatsoever to do with sexuality, but rather with his consorting with the enemy. Again, quite a bit more difficult to explain to a human.
"Well... you might say that our relationship played a part in it, yes." He finished spreading the butter onto the piece of bread and took a small bite. Savoured the creamy texture and the warmth which flooded his mouth before swallowing and then dabbing the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief. "But Anthony, as you can no doubt already appreciate, knows his own mind far too well."
"Doesn't he just?"
"He's very self-sufficient. And when he works, he works hard. He's quite proud in that sense." And so, having naturally stumbled headlong into the very queries of which he had been so desperate to make, Aziraphale set down his bread, winding his fingers together and hesitating but a few moments. It felt terribly wrong to put someone in this position. And yet he simply could no longer abstain from doing so. "How has he been? I'm so terribly worried about him."
"I think we're all a bit worried about the bitter old fruit, to be honest." Alice said, leaning back in her seat and taking another sip from her champagne. She was started to feel significantly more relaxed. The alcohol was helping. 'Alex's' easy manner was the main contributor. "He's going out almost every night. Drinking to the point he can't drive but insisting he can 'sober up anytime he wants'. I'm surprised he's not in the early stages of kidney failure yet."
"Yes, he did always enjoy the odd tipple." Aziraphale remarked, finding the fact that Crowley was taking himself out and about to conduct his heavy drinking to be the truly bizarre factor in this scenario. Crowley had always enjoyed drinking and given that he had been doing it a long time, his tolerance for alcohol was ostensibly greater than that of most any human. It no doubt looked incredibly startling from an outside perspective however. "Is that having an impact on his work?"
"Well that's just the thing. No. Not at all. He's amazing at work. He's so dedicated. We could honestly use a few more like him." The waiter drifted briefly up on the tides once more to ask if they would like some more time to peruse the menu. Alice advised that they would. He drifted on back whence he came and she continued: "He never comes in hungover. Not that you can tell, anyway. Always well presented and tidy-"
"Oh. Is he taking care of his work uniform? I've been concerned that he might end up ruining it by accident."
Alice shook her head. "Fine. It's fine. It's always clean. Works out any stains he gets on it. Doesn't seem to be an issue." She sipped from her glass again, wondering if it would be too forward to ask for a top up over dinner. This first one was going down far too easily. "He hasn't been hooking up with anyone. Just so you know."
Aziraphale blinked; quite honestly unfamiliar with the term. "I beg your pardon... hooking up?"
"Going home with people. Snogging anyone. You know. Had his offers though. Random Soccer Mum seems really keen. Wouldn't be surprised she follows him into the Men's one night, tries to have her wicked way with him up against the sink. Think it would be obvious, wouldn't you? That he's not... well, you know. I mean that walk, for one." She was babbling, though not from anxiety such as she had been expecting. It was simply that 'Alex' was so easy to talk with. "Suppose she think's she's got a chance of 'changing him'. Good luck with that, I reckon."
It should not have come as such a relief to Aziraphale to hear that Crowley had been... well, was faithful really the right word? It wasn't as though they were traditionally engaged with each other in such a way so as to naturally exclude the possibility of 'hooking up' with others but still... He acknowledged that it did come as a relief. That Crowley was not in fact drinking himself into such a state that copulating with a human seemed a reasonable thing of which to partake. Alice could see that this has been welcome news to the man she believed to be called 'Alex'. He looked far the more saddened than he did pleased by it, however. And it was strange, because she could almost swear that his was a sadness which seemed to leach right on into the borders of her own heart and set up shop there. As though it were... contagious.
"Well it... it hardly comes as a surprise that he would receive offers." Aziraphale sipped much more deeply from his wine than he had intended. But rather felt as though it had been needed. "He's very handsome. Very clever. Terribly good company."
"Yeah, but he's so loyal, hun." Alice said, taking up her own roll and splitting it down the middle. She felt a little rough for doing it by hand but 'Alex' didn't seem the least bothered. "He doesn't even flirt with anyone. He's just civil. Think you're the only one he's got eyes for."
"I see." Aziraphale considered the other half of his roll and felt an ever so strange and wholesomely unfamiliar thing. The sensation of having lost his appetite. "Has he... I mean... has he spoken to any of you as to why we're spending... time apart?"
Alice had taken rather a too large a bite of her bread roll. She tucked in another sip of her champagne to help soften up the overzealous portion and managed to get it down without embarrassing herself too much. 'Alex' was kind enough to pretend not to have noticed. "He's pretty private about that sort of thing. Said you're taking a break to work through some stuff." She wondered just how much she should tell the ever so endearing man sitting opposite her. 'Anthony' would likely be mad, should he have found out but what point was there in leaving things hanging like this? They were clearly both miserable from being apart. If it could help to fix any of this mess. "...He did have himself a right proper teary after karaoke the other night. Stupid bastard sang that song 'Clarity', nearly had the whole place bawling. Got back to the table, we're all blubbering all over each other, telling our break up stories. In amongst all that mess he goes and says that he feels like you're... ashamed of him."
Aziraphale could not have felt the more confused and astonished by this then if it had been spoken to him in Ancient Sanskrit. "But that... but that's absurd."
"What he said was, is that he feels like you're afraid to properly invest in him because you're afraid of it 'changing' something about you. We... kind of just assumed that meant you were... still in the closet, or something."
"Well, it's not so incorrect an assumption." Aziraphale acknowledged, thinking that even now he was having ever so trying a time attempting to extract himself entirely from Heaven's lint lined ephemeral pocket. Say what you want but the hooks they sank into your spirit sunk deep and held fast. "Perhaps I am a little... afraid. But that's my burden. It should never suggest that I'm ashamed of him. That he could actually... feel that way..."
Alice, comfortable enough by this juncture to rest her elbow against the table, set her cheek to her fist and gazed warmly at the eloquently spoken man across from her. He seemed ever so sweet. All the hardness, anxiety and rigidity that might have otherwise captured her body and held court over it in an otherwise unfamiliar setting, just seemed to have sluiced away in the time she'd been sitting there. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. There was just... something. Something... ineffable, about him.
"I think he feels like you're worrying about what everyone else in the world will think, rather than putting him and your relationship first. Which makes a bit of sense, when you think about it." She waved her hand about and took a smaller sip from her glass, trying to make the most of the modest amount remaining in the base. "I mean, I know you don't know me and it's not really any of my business but he's absolutely crazy about you. He loves you to itty-bitty bits."
Aziraphale felt his heart near slam to a stop in his chest. He was quite certain the shock resonated right on through to his face; so resolute was its nature.
Love.
Not felt. Not understood to be present, to be underlying their every interaction with one another. But spoken aloud. Given form. Prescience.
Acknowledged.
Like the pictures.
Shared. Shown. Paraded. Celebrated.
"It's Complicated".
"He... said that?"
She could see it had come as a surprise to him. Which seemed a very strange thing, for two person's who had supposedly been together quite as long as they had. Did they never say it to one another? Perhaps that was something older gay men were particularly reserved about?
"Said it on the first day we met him. He can be a bit shy but he got all cute when he was talking about you. Thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. He's so proud of you. I think he just wants you to be proud of him too."
"I am proud of him. I'm terribly proud of him."
"Does he know?"
"I should hope so." Aziraphale said, with the look of someone who was rather the more uncertain as to whether such a thing was true or not. And more the concerned by the moment that the answer was perhaps not.
"Maybe don't hope. Maybe just tell him? Sometimes people need stuff spelt out to know that it's true. Especially a little hot house orchid like Cumquat." The waiter returned to the table, bringing a small plate with an even smaller sampling of food upon it. Alice was naturally somewhat confused by this. "Oh, we haven't ordered anything yet, though."
"It's a complimentary taster." Aziraphale smiled, gesturing towards the saucer with his hand. "Please. Help yourself."
Alice did as was encouraged and took a small forkful of what appeared to be a sampling of some fish based dish from the menu. As the flavour swirled about on her tongue, she felt what little of her that hadn't already melted into goop disintegrate entirely.
"Oh my goodness, that is divine."
Aziraphale smiled with soft irony as he took another sip from his champagne flute. "Or close enough." He said, more so as to amuse himself and gestured for the waiter to top up their glasses. Alice groaned softly, waving a hand at the flush she felt developing on her neck.
"Honestly, though. If Cumquat's stupid enough not to take you back, can I have you?" She could have done much worse than to be treated like a Queen every day. It was quite enough to make her good and certain that she was going to be divesting a stout clip about 'Anthony's' ears the following morning at work.
Aziraphale chuckled, glancing off to the side in not so much an embarrassed manner but rather a more thoughtful one. The idea of Crowley not... taking him back was more the pressing concern that such an otherwise contrary statement evoked. It was like a pinprick; seeming small and innocuous but one which had sunk in much deeper than it otherwise appeared to have done.
"I'm quite certain there must be suitable young gentleman who would glean more from your charming company than I myself, my dear." He smiled, reaching across to pet his fingers kindly to the back of her hand; chipped nail polish be damned. "Perhaps someone who you might also enjoy looking across the table at, rather than seeing this fussy, white haired old man staring back at you."
The champagne must have gone a little to her head, because Alice found she set her flute down just a touch too hard at this. Some of the delicious liquid within near splashed out onto the table and what a waste that would have been!
"Oh my God, you are not old! And you're just making me love you more when you go and say adorable stuff like that." She supped a drop which had escaped from her glass off of her knuckle, unconcerned now as to composing herself to any such unimpeachable standard. "I can see why Anthony's so smitten with you."
"Oh, I hardly think that he's smitten." Aziraphale said, now quite definitely flirting with the borders of embarrassment. He found himself taking yet another more offbeat sip of his drink than he might otherwise have considered necessary.
"Then you're reading the cues all wrong." Such as earlier, Alice stinted as to whether or not she needed to be telling Anthony's jilted partner all the messy particulars of her colleagues various daring-do's. But having sat with the lovely man a while now, she cast a derisive 'fuck it' to the collective universe and decided that it was quite worth whatever it took to bring this pair of dopey sweethearts back together again. "You know, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but-"
"What?" Aziraphale asked, eyes widening, setting his glass down. He looked so positively alarmed that Alice actually reached across the table to cup a hand about his wrist.
"He got into a fight the other night." The news did not come as any sort of salve to whatever alarm 'Alex' was currently nursing. He looked quite as much as though he were about to spring from his chair and launch himself out through the nearest window. "It's okay, he's fine. He was just mouthing like he normally does. Got himself a fat lip for his efforts. All but cleared up the next day, weirdly..."
Aziraphale hardly felt at all reassured by this. Oh, it wasn't as though it was the first time it had happened, of course. Crowley was quick witted, clever and prone to wielding his words in much the same manner that other less civilized beings might have wielded a dagger, or similarly sharp, cutty thing. It stood to reason that a lot of less cognitively established individuals would take exception to his fast tongue and particular brand of sarcastic tenderizing and respond in far less orthodox a fashion. This was particularly true of when they might have been out and about and drinking to excess. And this they had done quite a bit throughout the years.
Aziraphale had lost count of the times in fact, which he had been forced to step in. Though he was an angel, he was no stranger to violence. All frontline celestials were trained in their own particular brand of pugilist arts and he had once been one of the more adept at doing so. (Though he supposed not many cared to remember such a thing. He was not the least boastful about it and preferred the peaceful quiet of more gentile pursuits. You might say that his was a flaming sword more the often sheathed rather than paraded about at head height and heralding to all far and wide that it was a blade quite merrily prepared to shear limbs from otherwise needing torso's.)
But Aziraphale could fight, yes. Though he did prefer to think of it as rather defending oneself and others; redirecting energy, whence required. He could disarm, subdue, subvert and waylay any number of flying fists, feet, broken bottles, wicker chairs and the whatnot and had done so many a more time than he could truthfully recall. Crowley was quite aware of Aziraphale's innate propensity to stand between himself and whatever harm might otherwise befoul him and more the likely took advantage of it, the angel thought.
Crowley was not a fighter. He was a terribly good instigator and provocateur, but he was the sort who would prefer to shove an otherwise useful shield between himself and trouble. And that shield was, more often than not, Aziraphale.
Aziraphale had not always been at his side throughout those six thousand years, however. He was no fool and had no delusions as to this being the first time in history to which Crowley had received a cuff about the ear for giving cheek where it ought not have been bandied. It hit harder however, for this was a time when they were ever so much more isolated than they had ever been and more the such responsible for each others wellbeing. It reminded him of that very first time in the Garden of Eden, when Superbia had glanced their ringed hand off of the side of Crowley's face. Had set the seemingly confident serpent to trembling; a creature who clearly intended to present themselves as unshakeable but had indeed a tremulous core which was not so accustomed to harsh treatment.
A demon, yes. But vulnerable. So wise, so clever, so the more holistic in his consideration of most everything but beneath which dwelt something incontestably soft. And wanting. And ever so much in need of protection.
Aziraphale was failing him.
"Oh, that's so not like him. He hates confrontation. And I'm usually there for him to hide behind on oft occasion confrontation finds him." He set his glass down, tilted his head back and took a measured sigh. It was the most composed gesture Alice fancied she had ever seen. Ever so English and upper class in some ways. Ever so terribly refined. And quite tremendously brave, in others. "I'm ever so worried about him."
"Is this the first time you guys have had a big fight where you haven't been talking?"
"We've had a few. Nothing quite this serious, however. And to be honest, I'm usually the one giving the silent treatment and he's the one picking up the pieces." Aziraphale plucked up his courage, feeling a very strong need to share with someone; to divulge some of the emotional complexity of the situation and see whether they might, in their clumsy human way, assist him in navigating what was ever so unfamiliar and rather very human like muddy waters. They were good at this, the humans. They did it all the time; or so books and television told him. "It's just... I worry for him being left to his own devices. He's very clever of course but he can also be... quite vulnerable in his way. He doesn't take care of himself all that well and..." He realized, quite so soon as he had begun that he'd hardly a clue as to where he was going and turned back to his champagne, taking a rather more unapologetic gulp which near drained it down to its bellows. "I sound positively ridiculous to you, don't I, dear?"
"No, not at all," said Alice. Nearly two glasses in, one small taster to her name and not nearly enough food to keep up with the alcohol that she was quite the more unaccustomed to. She was feeling the slightest bit giddy and more than just the slightest bit emotional. The lower lids of her eyes had started to feel a little heavy; a little blurred. That... sadness. It seemed a very real thing; much as might have been a drug injected directly into her veins and working its way through her heart and brain and whatever else such substances stole claim to. His sadness was like that, she vaguely thought, sipping once more from her glass and wondering even as she did just how big a cup of coffee she would need to balance this all out. It polarized her senses.
It had to have been his eyes. They were... soulful.
She could completely understand where Anthony was coming from.
"It's dreadful to know that I've hurt him so badly. And to be quite honest I..." Aziraphale stuttered, feeling once more that ever more intrinsic need to permit himself some lenience. To share with someone, so as to help alleviate the pain what he was feeling inside. He was acclimated to it in some ways; he'd had a good six thousand years to learn how to compartmentalize, after all. But this... this situation was rather more catawampus than most any of which preceded it. "I'm not at all sure how I am supposed to go about fixing it this time around. I've always found it rather the simple process to forgive Cr-Anthony but I suspect that forgiving me is something he may not be able to do quite so easily. It's..." He bit his lip, a gesture Alice found so utterly adorable that her already sluggish body near schlepped beneath the dinner table to see it. "...hard to give him the space he wants, when all I want is to go to him. I'm accustomed to being able to fix things and now... now I don't rightly know where to start. I fear I've done irreparable damage."
"I'm sure it's not irreparable." Alice said, who, having had so many dozen irreparable relationships herself, was rather an uncontested authority on the matter. "Whatever problems you guys are having is reconcilable, surely? You're not beating the living shit out of each other. You're not lying and stealing and cheating on each other and doing drugs and abusing one another. It sounds like you're just having a little bump in the road."
"A rather big bump." Aziraphale stated with a nervous chuckle which belied the very real feeling of helplessness rooted at its core. "One large tree that's fallen right onto the road and there's no means to drive around it."
"Then get on out and hack it to bits with an axe. Chainsaw the bastard. Pull it apart with your bare hands if you've got to. Just don't give up on it." Alice sighed, wiped at her welling eyes. Her period was due and she was already emotional but this. She had expected some pompous, arrogant stuff shirt to whom she would only minimalistically tolerate the company of for the better half of an evening. Not a pompous stuff shirt who was so completely as sweet as pie and lovely and more the gentleman than anyone she had ever met in her entire life. It was too much. "I'm so sorry." She nearly sobbed, waving her hands at her eyes as tears threatened to spill out over her lower lashes. "I know this is going to sound so completely stupid but... I just wish I could fix this for you. I don't even know you but I hate that you're hurting! You seem like... such a lovely person."
"Oh my dear, please don't cry," Said Aziraphale, passing over his spare handkerchief and gesturing for her to take it. As she wiped her eyes, he took her hand between his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I didn't ask you here so as I could impress upon you to intervene on my behalf with... Anthony. I simply wanted to know if he was all right. That is all. I would never ask for you put yourself in such an awkward position."
If he thought this would help, he couldn't be the more wrong. His genuine kindness and compassion was enough to cause Alice to tear up all the more. She had dated her fair share of bastards, users, abusers and cheaters. She had pinned her heart and her hopes on drug addicts, on liars, on passive aggressive underhanded bastards who would comment slyly from the corner of their lips that she could lose a bit more weight or that her bum wiggled just that too much when walking to the bathroom after sex.
That two perfectly lovely men like Anthony and Alex had found one another and yet found some reason so as to remain apart, was preposterous. It might have made her mad, if it didn't feel just so terribly wretched about it all. The world was thick with scum. She herself still felt stained most days with that scum.
How could they not see how lucky they were?
"Oh my God... now I just want to help you out more. Can I give you a hug?"
Aziraphale was not Crowley. He certainly wasn't one to turn down the offer of a hug if it were to come from anyone other than the person he most earnestly wished he could be holding at that moment.
He rather felt he needed a good hug. It was quite certainly thanks in return, he thought, for the generous serving of Sous Vide Butter-Poached Lobster which graced the table to the accompanying rapturous squeals of his much appreciated confidante sometime after the fourth glass of champagne.
"Can I ask you something?" She had queried at some point over dessert. Forcing Aziraphale's attention up and away from the dark chocolate ganache tart he was picking at distractedly. Ever so much a definitive indicator as to there being something terribly wrong in the angel's chemical makeup. "What do Anthony's eyes look like? None of us can get his glasses off of him to get a look."
"Beautiful." Aziraphale said simply, without thinking. Without apology. They were as round as the inlay of a saucer, as yellow as the harvest moon and ever the more missed by the moment.
He plucked a corner from the edge of his tart and left it where it fell sidelong and impotent upon the plate.
The chocolate, he thought, tasted like sawdust.
~X~
A/N: Thanks for reading everyone, always very much appreciate the time spent :) Feel free to leave a comment or a favourite, or a follow; if you enjoyed. I hope you all had a very lovely and a very safe holiday season and I shall see you in the next update!
With all my infernal love,
~MadamMortis~ xxx ooo