May 1, 2020: London
"I'll see you when all this is over," Aziraphale's voice said softly over the phone.
"Right," Crowley sighed. "I'm setting the alarm clock for July... Good night Angel." Crowley sighed again as he ended the call. "Well, that was a thing," he grumbled.
He had meant what he had said. He had had every intention of trying to find something to do before turning in for a few months until Aziraphale called, but now he wasn't sure he even had the energy for that.
"Stupid angel and his rules," the demon muttered as he picked up his phone again. He briefly considered ringing his best friend back and teleporting himself over to the shop through the phone line, but what was the point?
'Absolutely out of the question,' Aziraphale's voice echoed in his head.
Had he imagined it or had the angel sounded a bit disappointed? It didn't matter. Sure they'd been spending more time than together than ever since the end of the world didn't happen,(1) but it wasn't like much had really changed.
Yes, they weren't constantly looking over their shoulders anymore and they didn't have to pretend they weren't friends if anyone addressed them as such now, but when it was just the two of them almost everything had remained the same. With the exception of a few more friendly touches on the arm or hand peppered into their interactions, and a handful of hugs(2) nothing had changed in Aziraphale's attitude towards him. At least not as he may have hoped it would.
Well it's not like you've exactly advertised you're looking for more, an annoying voice he thought had a tone a bit like Anathema Device scolded him from the back of his mind. Crowley suspected the witch was onto his feeling for the angel but if she was she hadn't said anything and he'd be blessed if he was going to broach the subject by calling her out on her knowing little smirks.(3)
"I said I'd slither over to the bookshop and WATCH HIM EAT CAKE!" he shouted out loud to the voice in his mind. "How much blunter to I have to be for Satan's sake?!"
It wasn't like Aziraphale needed to put it together that he was madly in love with him, but it would be nice if he at least realized the demon missed his company, just as it would be nice to think maybe, just maybe, Aziraphale missed him too. He thought that might be what was coming when he saw the bookshop number on his caller ID, but no. The angel was apparently perfectly happy locked down by himself with his books and baking.
Crowley huffed. "Fine! If he doesn't need me, I don't need him. No point making m'self look desperate and pathetic."
Putting the phone down and resolving himself to start his nap early Crowley sauntered through his flat to his plant room to give them all one last watering and scolding before turning in.
"I swear if any of you even think about going wilty or brown while I'm asleep there will be HELL to pay!" he snarled, fixing them with a withering glare until they were all trembling then slunk out of the room, snapping himself into his black, silk pajamas as he went.
Aziraphale sighed as hung up the old rotary phone.
Oh dear, he sounded so disappointed, he thought. I hope I wasn't too adamant in my refusal.
For centuries Crowley and Aziraphale had played the same game of cat and mouse, always dancing around one another and being careful to not appear too eager to spend time together. It had been the key to their success with the Arrangement for a thousand years and while there was technically no need to keep up the charade any longer, well, old habits die hard, especially where breaking the rule was concerned.
"You're still an angel," Aziraphale told himself, tapping his fingers nervously on the desk. "You can't just go flouting the rules and setting a bad example willy-nilly... That's his job."And Lord knows I tried to make that clear, his subconscious provided unhelpfully.
Aziraphale was sure Crowley had understood him. At least he hoped he had. Of course he couldn't just tell him to come over. That's not how this was done! Crowley did the tempting, Aziraphale refused, then Crowley would rephrase the offer so it was clearly to Aziraphale's benefit to accept and then he would relent. THAT was how the game was played. But Crowley had sounded so disappointed...
"I'm sure he'll come around," the angel told himself decidedly, finally relinquishing his grip on the phone receiver in its cradle and stepping away from the desk to fix himself a cup of cocoa. "Besides, he said he's not going to sleep for another two days. If I don't hear anything by then, I suppose there's no rule saying I can't call him back to say goodnight before he turns in."
Satisfied with his own circuitous logic for the time being Aziraphale settled down into his favorite arm chair with his mug and tried not to think about whispering goodnight to the demon who had given it to him, and what it might be like to do so while running his fingers through soft locks of flame red hair.
GOD VO: Although it is a biological fact that angels and demons have no need to sleep, it doesn't mean they can't enjoy it. The demon Crowley considers himself to be an expert sleeper, the way his best friend, the angel Aziraphale, considers himself an expert on fine dining (another indulgence which, strictly speaking neither angels nor demons have any need for). This is partially because, unlike most demons, Crowley possesses an outstanding imagination which allows him to experience incredibly vivid dreams when sleeping hard enough. Approximately two hours after tucking himself in and setting his alarm clock for 10 a.m. on July the First, he was off to dreamland.
1 Unless you counted the time they had spent together as Nanny and Brother Francis looking after Warlock, but Crowley wasn't entirely sure he did, that was still work-related.
2 Exactly six hugs, which Crowley absolutely HAD NOT been reliving in his brain the last few weeks in isolation.
3 That was if he ever got to see her again, which, at the rate Pestilence's triumphant return from retirement was going, he was starting to question.