Friends, this is the final chapter. More than any other part of this story, this chapter was quite literally a labor of love.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had an interesting day... well, day-ish. They've talked a lot about what it means to be human, namely, what physical love is really like. Aziraphale claims that his curiosity about it is merely that of a celestial being who doesn't understand all facets of the human condition. We know differently, don't we?

The duo are now stuck in Tadfield for a couple of weeks. The subject of "sleeping arrangements" has come up - Crowley let Aziraphale make the decisions about that. He also asked the angel to make a decision about whether Adam Young should reset his flat, so that he could actually live in it, and not have to stay in Crowley's flat. The angel declined, revealing that he'd rather be staying with Crowley than living on his own, yet he still has to make excuses about why he's doing so.

And now, there's nothing left to do in Tadfield but wait. Together. What now?

I sincerely hope you enjoy this! It was difficult to write, but as I said, it was a labor of love!

CREATURE COMFORTS AND THE DAYS TO COME

With the Antichrist standing before them, Crowley saw an opportunity to jostle his oldest, dearest friend out of his tacit denial... of his fears, desires, truths. "Is there anything you'd like to say to Adam about the arrangement of your flat?" he asked the angel pointedly.

Adam looked at him expectantly, with a face that seemed to suggest he was totally ready and willing to help…

Aziraphale looked back and forth between Crowley, Adam, and the ground, uncomfortably. "Oh… well…excellent question. Thank you, Crowley. Erm… well, Adam… I think…"

Crowley was holding his breath.

"No," Aziraphale said to Adam, finally. "You did a marvellous job. I absolutely adore the changes."

"Okay," Adam shrugged. "I've got to go find Dog. Keep in touch, okay, guys?"

And with that, he ran off.

Angel and demon watched him go. After a few beats, Crowley said, "You absolutely adore the changes?"

"Well, of course I don't... his Earthly presence is much grander than my own pedantic needs. Besides, he's the Antichrist. I'm an angel. Can't very well ask him for help."

"And you're still against the idea of either one of us miracling it fixed?"

"Well, yes… just doesn't seem a kosher use of our unique powers for something so trivial."

"Right," Crowley said, and he dared to reach out and grab Aziraphale's hand. "Message received."

The angel and the demon did not walk hand-in-hand to the inn.

Not because they were afraid of being seen, and scandalising R.P. Tyler, who scrutinised them anyhow, and, it might be said, was still not quite caught up with the twenty-first century in some matters.

Although, when Mr. Tyler got close, he said to Crowley, "Have we met? I've got the strangest feeling…"

"No, I don't think so," the demon responded. "Just got one of those faces, I guess."

"Mm. Right. Well, enjoy your day, gents," Mr. Tyler said, walking away uneasily with his dog.

When he was out of earshot, Crowley said, "He saw me yesterday, driving a flaming car. Asked him for directions. Nice bloke."

"Ah," Aziraphale said.

No, they did not walk hand-in-hand to the inn because that simply was not the way they did things. How many decades (centuries, even millenia?) had they perhaps wanted to walk hand-in-hand, and yet they walked side-by-side, and talked about the landscape, the town, and what this area of England had been like before any civilisation had touched it.

In fact, they hadn't walked anywhere hand-in-hand. They had stood in that spot in the field, after Adam Young had bounded away, for about ten seconds…. hand-in-hand. There was a moment of warmth that passed between them, that had only ever expressly been seen when they were both a little drunk. Aziraphale had turned to face Crowley, and had, for just a few seconds, added his other hand to the mix. Then he'd pulled it away.

"Shall we find an inn?" Crowley had said.

"We shall," Aziraphale had said, and just like that, they let go of one another, and began walking down the hill.

No-one "talked" when they checked into The Friar's Repose together, the church-rectory-turned-B&B, and Aziraphale did not complain about the décor, nor the tile, nor anything else. And it never occurred to him to request two rooms. It was simply a quiet place where the two of them could spend the next fifteen days, and make important decisions about the Days to Come.

"I suppose some of that's already been decided," Aziraphale said, sitting down on the foot of the bed, with Agnes Nutter's second volume laid out carefully beside him. He sat, as always, with his hands in his lap, and he did not make eye contact.

Crowley tossed the room key aside, grabbed the antique chair from underneath the faux-antique desk, turned it around and straddled it. He leaned his arms coolly on the back, and said, "I suppose it has. You've decided, at the very least, literally where we go from here. When we get back to London, anyway. We go back to my flat."

And he was not surprised when Aziraphale began talking again about having the kitchen redone, as well as the parquet – in fact, it made him smile. It would have been easy to see the angel's excuse-making as a backslide, an insult to the progress they'd made, but Crowley had never been a greedy sort of demon. He took his victories where he could find them. The fact that Aziraphale could have, at any time, miracled fixes to his living space, yet chose not to, and could have avoided all of that by asking Adam just to reset everything properly, yet chose not to… it spoke volumes. It said a lot, and said it loudly.

Besides, Crowley knew his friend well, and could see that Aziraphale's animated, feigned chagrin over what was wrong with his flat was actually masked excitement over getting to stay in Crowley's for a bit longer. Neither of them knew what would happen when the entire flat was fixed to Aziraphale's liking, but Crowley had an inkling that it never quite would be.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale said, timidly.

"Mm?"

"Do you think we should talk, now that we've got nothing but time?"

"About what?" But he knew the answer.

"I'd like to talk about myself, if I might. And a bit about you." Aziraphale sighed then, and seemed to pluck up a bit of courage. "You know, I've learned a lot from you."

"And I from you."

"I mean, just today. Or… part of a day two weeks from now, and part of today…"

"I get it. And I mean the same thing."

"I even learned from you today a little more about love," Aziraphale said, lightly, smiling. "But then... well, that's nothing new."

"Again – and I from you."

"Honestly, though, thank you for teaching me about, you know… taking solace in the shag, as you put it. Seeking joy, as I think of it. And how it only works if two people are already…"

"You're welcome," Crowley said, quietly, lightly.

"Learning more about the creature comforts, the things humans do because they feel good… it's good, isn't it? It's good for me. As an angel who trades in love. As a celestial being who lives amongst humans, and seeks to do so more seamlessly."

"Yes," Crowley said, nodding, just giving his friend space to talk.

"And I think it's good for me as…" the angel trailed off, and then took a deep, nervous breath. "Oh Crowley, this is so hard for me to say."

"Take your time, angel," Crowley shrugged. "I'm not getting any older."

Aziraphale thought about his words, and then continued. "It's good for me as, well, simply a sentient being who feels love. Who receives love. Who… loves someone."

"I see."

"Someone who loves someone would definitely benefit from knowing more about the creature comforts, wouldn't you agree? To share more? Become better versed in someone else's pleasures and needs, and ways that they exhale?"

"Yes, I would agree."

"I've always enjoyed food – that particular creature comfort is something I've never apologised for! I use living amongst humans as an excuse for why I love it so much, but it's infinitely more gratifying when I can admit that I enjoy food because I enjoy food. It's stimulating to the senses, makes you feel warm, satisfied, and sometimes inspired."

"Well said!"

"You're a demon, so you don't make excuses for why you sleep. You enjoy sleep because you just do. I suppose because it's relaxing, and can be rejuvenating. There are dreams to be had, and sheets to sink into."

"Exactly."

"Lately, I've been sleeping a lot more than I ever have, and you've been much more voracious and creative about food."

"True."

"Tell me, Crowley, why have you been enjoying food so much more?"

"Well, I suppose, through your influence, I've started to see how it's a bigger affair than just finding something tasty and filling your belly."

"Wonderful. And I'll admit, I've been sleeping because of your influence, and finding that it's a bigger affair than just being unconscious for a time, and escaping one's problems," Aziraphale said, gesturing with both hands, smiling lightly, seeming very satisfied.

"Good. I'm glad."

"Food for the taste, and sleep for the relaxation – they both feel good! No excuses, and isn't it glorious!" Then, Aziraphale's face fell. "And yet, I'm staying in your flat because mine is being repaired."

"Yes… what are you getting at?"

The angel looked at the floor. "Earlier, with Adam, you gave me a way out. You gave me an opportunity to actually go back to the way things were. And I chose to move forward with the way things are now."

"Yes, you did. I'm happy you did that."

"The point is, Crowley, we both know that my flat needing renovations is not the reason I'm staying at yours. We both know that the renovation reason is ultimately ridiculous and unneeded. I should be able to say that I'm staying at your flat for reasons that transcend reasons."

"Ineffable reasons?" Crowley asked with a smirk.

"Yes! And yet, I still feel the need to talk about redoing my kitchen and the parquet floors, and I'm not sure why. I should stop. I know I'm not fooling anyone. Oh, Crowley, I wish I could stop – I don't know why I can't."

"I know why. It's all right."

Crowley did understand – he'd understood very well from the beginning – well, not The Beginning, but certainly for at least a few centuries. Aziraphale was not ready – full stop. He was not ready to say that he wanted Crowley's company, and ached to be near him, and felt lost unless they were together. Truth be told, Crowley wasn't ready to freely admit those things either, but it was mostly because Aziraphale wasn't. And so, the demon was going to let the angel keep on using the redoing-his-flat excuse, until he was ready.

"I expect that I'll feel so much better living with you, once I can let go of the kitchen and the parquet excuse, but for now…"

"No need to explain. I get it."

There was a pregnant pause, and Aziraphale looked pained.

Crowley wished he could reassure him.

"And now, here we are," the angel said, casting his glance about the room. "In an inn. Sharing a room. Sharing a bed, maybe. And no-one, not even the man who saw you driving a flaming car, seems to think it's strange."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes, but… Crowley, I don't know what the next two weeks hold for us – somehow I don't think even Mistress Nutter's manuscript could tell us. But what I do know is that…" Aziraphale took a deep and uneven breath, before continuing. "No one has ever given me more creature comfort than you, nor ultimately, more individual moments of joy."

"Wow."

"And I would like very much to continue… seeking joy. With you. Do you see?"

"Oh, I see." Of course he saw.

"It seems right, now that we're here. It's like fate brought us to it, doesn't it feel that way to you?"

"Yes, but I'm rather surprised…"

"Just let me talk. Please."

Crowley clammed up, and gestured for his friend to continue.

"But here's my dilemma. There's still a sizeable part of my brain telling me that I need to learn about the physicality of love because it's part of my job as an angel… even though I no longer have a job as an angel. I keep telling myself that I need to experience all aspects of love. If I'm going to be living amongst humans indefinitely, I'll have to understand their foibles and whatnot. I'm fighting a very strong instinct right now, to tell you just that. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"No," Crowley said. "Not at all. Not considering where you're coming from."

"Thank you for that." There was a pause, and the angel continued, "Crowley, I don't know what your expectations were when we checked in…"

"I had zero expectations, Aziraphale."

"But I don't think I can fully seek joy, if I'm still feeling the need to express excuses about why I'm seeking it."

"Okay," Crowley said, easily.

"One should not have to justify oneself in order to seek joy."

Crowley smiled. "No, one should not. Yet another element of what makes love magnificent. There aren't reasons - it just is."

"The urge to rationalise will leave me someday, I'm sure of it. And when that day comes, I've no doubt that you'll show me a new creature comfort that I can enjoy for itself, without excuses, much like food and sleep. Until then, I'm going to continue to be an angel about things, because I don't know yet how else to be."

"Okay. And I'll just keep being a demon, how's that?"

"A capital plan," Aziraphale said, with a twinkle in his eye.

There was a long silence, and Crowley asked, "Are you done?"

"I think so."

"You can keep talking if there's more to say."

"For now, I believe I've said all that I am capable of saying. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Honestly, never better, angel. Only, I think we should we get a bite to eat?"

Aziraphale smiled. "Yes. I thought I saw a lunch special across the street of Osso Bucco. I adore Osso Bucco."

"Me too."

The Osso Bucco was passable, as was the wine, though Aziraphale transformed the latter straight away into something much more befitting of two supernatural beings. This particular frivolous miracle was worth the frivolity.

The company, however, was divine. Or hellish.

Either way, it was really, really interesting.

"I know it's been a long day with a lot of questions already," Crowley said, his speech slurring a bit. "But there's one thing I'd still like to know, angel. What the hell are you going to do with that manuscript? You can't really still be planning to turn it over to the Archwanker Gabriel!"

"Part of me would like to give it to Beelzebub, for all the good it will do either one of us," Aziraphale answered, also slurring.

"Well… we could just keep it. Or you could. In your book shop, I mean. You could just tell both sides we failed to find it."

"I could. But that's a pretty big burden, having something like that lying about. Just ask Anathema."

"Your job, for six thousand years, has been to oversee the blessings of mankind. And you're worried about keeping track of a stack of papers?"

"That was a cumbersome job, but this is something else. Knowing what's to come, and trying to work out what to do about it… a whole different Cricket match."

"A whole different ballgame, you mean? Yeah, well, I guess you're not wrong. So what do we do? Or you… what do you do? It's your bloody book."

"I don't know," Aziraphale said, sighing, worriedly. "The right thing to do would be to just give it to Gabriel."

"Aw, bugger the right thing!"

"Crowley, truth be told, there's something else that worries me more than what to do with Mistress Nutter's manuscript."

"What's that?"

"It's the big black lie you told Beelzebub."

"I told you – I am not the one who told that lie!"

"No, but they have this awful theory, and you didn't bother to disabuse them of it. You let them think it was true, and that you're part of it! You know very well that neither of us is a thing belonging to a Third Domain of some sort, that I'm still an angel, and you're still a demon. To what lengths will they go to find out more? What will happen if they, I don't know, misinterpret some evidence?"

Crowley sighed. "I guess I didn't think it through," he admitted. "I just wanted bloody Posterity to have its bloody book."

"Well, I think that after our Tadfield stint is over, we should be especially vigilant. We should look for signs that hell are poking about, trying to punch holes in reality, or the like."

"Yeah, you're probably right. What do we do if they start doing that?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Aziraphale said, worry colouring his face. "But, we worked out how to thwart the apocalypse, we can work this out, too. If it comes up."

"Oof. It's gonna be a weird few years, I think."

Aziraphale held up his glass. "To Days to Come."

Crowley smiled, clinked his glass, and they both sipped.

I hope you enjoyed this little adventure! Let me know what you think!

Also, as I've said, I'll be writing a sequel soon... stay tuned. Heaven and Hell clashing, angel and demon falling (more) in love, all of it with some dire consequences... keep your eyes open!

Thanks so much for reading! Love love love!