A/N: Continuing right on again from the last chapter ^_^

As awful as Aziraphale felt for the thought, he couldn't help but take a bit of comfort in knowing that Crowley was also struggling to come to terms with everything. The shared uncertainty at least made him feel less like he was being ridiculous. Or that he ought to have everything worked out by now, since in the end it didn't feel as though it ought to be so complicated.

And it wasn't complicated, not really, but at the same time it so very much was. Aziraphale found himself torn between wishing for space and solitude to try and figure himself out, and never wanting Crowley out of his sight again because now he had even more to lose than he ever had before.

All in all, this led to a rather edgy angel despite all his attempts to seem calm and collected.

One thing Aziraphale did know for certain, he very much loved the feeling of Crowley's hand on his. It was simultaneously grounding and reassuring, that wherever this led, they'd be figuring it out together.

"Back to the bookshop, then?" he suggested. "Or would you rather go round to your place? We should talk a bit, and I'd much rather not be so out in the open."

"Ngk," Crowley agreed. "Naw, better go to yours. I haven't cleaned Ligur off the floor yet, bit damp."

"I'm sorry, you haven't...?"

Crowley was fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt sleeves now, not seeming to want to meet Aziraphale's eye. "Ah, right, erm... well, there wasn't time to get into the story, what with you being discorporated and then the Apocalypse and all, then the swap..."

"Yes, well, I should say there's time now. What do you mean about Ligur? The duke, isn't he? One of the really nasty ones?"

Crowley snorted. "They're all really nasty ones, angel. Look, it's nothing to be too worried about, he's gone now. Made sure of that."

With a harrumph, Aziraphale stood and straightened his coat. "I think we'd best head to your place after all, dear boy. I can help you tidy the place while you tell me exactly what you're so cleverly trying to not tell me right now."

"It's really nothing," Crowley weakly tried, already hurrying after the angel. "Even gave Hastur the slip—"

"Hastur?" Aziraphale gasped. His stomach began to tighten. "So during your trial, that's what they were talking about? All they said was that you had killed Ligur and I couldn't exactly ask for more details when I was the one meant to have done it. That was at your home? Crowley, they came for you at home?"

"Don't," Crowley hissed, gazing quickly around them and then putting a hand carefully on Aziraphale's back, "get all worked up, angel. That little 'insurance policy' I got from you, you remember? What in the blazes did you ever think I was going to do with it, hm? I said it was for if everything went pear-shaped, and it did, just like I knew it would, and I used it exactly the way I always meant to: defending myself. Now Ligur's dead and I'm not, so keep calm and I'll tell you all about it, I promise."

And he did, in hushed tones until they reached the car, and from there to the flat in Mayfair. Aziraphale's head was positively dizzy with it all. The ill feeling in his stomach only intensified, both with horror at the fate Crowley had so narrowly avoided, but also with guilt that he had ever doubted Crowley's intentions for the holy water.

"So you see I really did want it to use on them," Crowley couldn't help but pointedly remark as the two stood over the now congealed pile of what used to be a Duke of Hell in the main doorway.

Aziraphale spared him a half-glance but couldn't really protest the defensive tone. Not when his own assumptions had been responsible for quite a long rift between them.

"Yes, I do, and I do apologize, Crowley, but surely you must realize how it sounded and what it would have done to me. It was very wrong of me to assume and not to listen, but... Crowley, if you knew the nightmares it conjured... Perhaps not even intentional use on your part, but what if you'd simply..."

"What? Gotten careless? With this? Would the humans get careless with a nuclear reactor?"

"I did hear they misplaced one recently..."

Crowley brushed him off. "Knowing it was you who'd given it to me and knowing you'd sit there all sadly blaming yourself about it if something had gone wrong? Really, angel. I like being alive. Of course I was going to be careful with it!"

Properly chastised, heart still constricting in a terrible way just to think about Crowley facing down actual Dukes in his own flat, without any backup at all, Aziraphale nodded and looked down at the mess. It might have been Crowley, oh he couldn't even imagine... Crowley, alone, unprotected. If he hadn't given him that holy water in the end— Aziraphale's vision blurred and spun. Two hands came to grip him by either shoulder, keeping him upright, then a softer voice said,

"Aziraphale. I'm sorry, I'm really not mad about it anymore. I was for a while but it was a long time ago and it all worked out, yeah?"

"I might have lost you anyway. I was just trying to keep you safe, and I... I might have been the reason you..."

"Still here, though, see?"

"You couldn't have fought them off without it, you— you would have—"

Crowley straightened. "Now hold it, let's not forget I am the wily serpent, aren't I? Only had enough holy water to take one of 'em out, had to get away from Hastur the old-fashioned way, and was right clever about it if I do say so myself. Trapped him in the ansaphone and everything, it was brilliant! Even you would have liked that one, angel."

He was obviously trying to lighten the mood a bit, but Aziraphale was having a hard time feeling any sort of amusement. All he could think was of their argument by the water that day so long ago, how Crowley had been reaching out for help in getting some way of protecting himself against significantly stronger enemies, and how Aziraphale had not only assumed he had plans to hurt himself if necessary, but had in fact left him defenseless.

...Trapped him in the ansaphone?

...The ansaphone...

Aziraphale's head shot up in shock and indignation.

"Now wait just a moment!" he exploded, making Crowley let go and take a startled step back. "When I called you, you said..."

Crowley grimaced with guilt, which was more than enough to confirm Aziraphale's sudden suspicion.

"You said you had a friend over!"

"I mean... what was I supposed to say instead, eh?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that Hastur the Duke of Hell was attacking?! How about that?"

Crowley's grimace shifted to a frown, more serious than chagrined. "And what if I had, what then? What would you have done?"

"Why, I would have arrived immediately to help you, what do you think I would have done? Crowley—"

"There you go, and that's exactly why I didn't say anything, angel." His expression was still so serious and somber, something haunted flashing in his eyes so that it quieted Aziraphale even in his outrage. Crowley turned away, resting one arm on the front door and tipping his head forward to lean against it.

Aziraphale waited a beat, then softly said, "Crowley?"

"Couldn't risk it. The only reason I went along with the swap was because—well, for one thing, there was literally no other way out of our little mess—but I knew Beelzebub would be hurrying things along and they wouldn't have time to get really evil. 'Sides, they didn't know you were an angel."

"I'm afraid I'm not following."

Crowley huffed. "Look, you're not scared of anything, but sometimes you should be. I know you, angel, you go up against an enemy, and you want to fight. Me, I'm a coward, I'd rather run away any day, and that's the only reason I'm alive now. You would have tried to fight Hastur, and maybe you would have even won. You're no slouch with that sword and he hasn't had a proper fight in ages, but if we'd lost?"

Crowley's hands clenched into fists. "You, in Hell? And them with all the time they wanted to— Forget the end of the world, that would have been— no, I would rather the world end."

Aziraphale was still trying to catch up on the idea that Crowley thought he wasn't scared of anything. Obviously the only choice he would have had would be to fight Hastur and kill him if necessary if that was what it took to save Crowley and who knew how many humans, but that was hardly courage, so much as... well, the only viable option.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale stepped closer and carefully settled a hand on Crowley's shoulder. He felt the demon tense, then loosen slightly under his touch. "There's so much that I'm afraid of," he admitted gently. "Not least of which is losing you, either to the demons or the angels or... anything at all. Hastur frightens me a great deal. And yes, you're right that I would have fought him. But what I'm most afraid of isn't him, or even being killed by him—"

"Try 'tortured for all eternity'."

"And yes, that is a truly petrifying notion, but even more than that, I fear something similar happening to you and me not knowing you need help because you kept it secret. If I could have done something, but didn't. Oh," he said, straightening suddenly. "I know what I want, then. If this is going to work between us, Crowley, this is what I want. Won't you look at me, dear boy?"

He waited as Crowley turned himself slowly back around, then carefully reached up to slide Crowley's glasses down enough to make real eye contact. Crowley blinked slowly but didn't protest.

"No secrets," Aziraphale said. "Not like that, at least. You don't have to tell me absolutely everything, we're both due some real privacy if we want it, but if we're going to be together, I want to be together. If you're in trouble, it's my trouble, too."

Crowley's eyes flicked down. "I can't put you in danger."

"My dear boy," Aziraphale said with a soft snort of laughter. "You must admit we've been putting each other in danger from the beginning, whether that was ever our intention or not." He sobered. "I'm sorry, Crowley, but I must insist on this. Please don't try to protect me, not like that. Don't keep things like that a secret, and I promise to do the same, no matter how difficult I admit it may be. Whatever one of us faces, we'll face together. Alright? Please."

Crowley's yellow-red eyes focused back on Aziraphale, regarding him silently for a moment. After a while, he nodded.

"Yeah, alright then," he agreed. "But I want a promise in return."

"That's fair. What is it?"

"You're the fighter, and you're damn good at it, and you're clever to boot. But being sneaky and wily is the game I've played best from the very beginning, and if there's trouble, there won't always be time to clue you in to what I'm thinking. So what I need is for you to trust me. If we're in a tight spot and I tell you to do something that doesn't make any sense or maybe even goes against everything you want to do, please... please just trust me."

Aziraphale thought it over, slowly nodding. "But you wouldn't use that to trick me into letting you sacrifice yourself?"

"No sacrifices. No tricks."

"Only plans that end with us both coming home in the end?"

"I promise."

Well, he couldn't very well trust Crowley on all other things but not trust him on this. Aziraphale beamed and held out his hand. "I promise, too. That's the new Arrangement, then."

He was rewarded with a relieved smile from Crowley, then an amused smirk. The demon took his hand and squeezed lightly.

"The new Arrangement."