CHAPTER 4
London, 1984
They never spoke of it again. It hurt Aziraphale to admit that he was back to the routine of millennia ago, sometimes he looked for the archangel, sometimes he watched him from afar, he liked to see how his appearance changed depending on the place and the time. He liked to observe him.
He had noticed that Raphael had started wearing sunglasses, dark lenses, gold frame, he wondered why. It was already the tenth time he had found the archangel sitting on that bench in St. James's Park. Raphael was wearing light jeans, a red shirt, too many buttons undone for an angel, and white Nike trainers, as always in keeping with the trends. His hair was a bit long, falling slightly over his shoulders, tousled waves, his eyes hidden by a pair of aviator glasses.
He had been watching him for some time, the redhead sighed with some annoyance, was he waiting for someone? Who dared to stand him up? Aziraphale searched in his head for a reason to approach, any subject, any demonic uprising lately? New news from Heaven? Then he found the courage to approach, maybe it wasn't the best news, but it was an excuse and the humans could benefit. He made it to the bench without sitting down, looking straight ahead, towards the lake.
"My side is sending some demons to Yorkshire next week... Their aim is to try to create unrest between police and striking miners. After 17 years without speaking, it was the only excuse the demon could think of.
"Sit down." He said after a few seconds the archangel, staring into infinity, his voice was neutral, monotone "Or are you planning to run away again?" he grimaced, a twisted, pained smile.
The question hurt, it felt like a slap in the face and though he had the urge to turn and walk away his feet didn't move. "I thought you'd like to know...Aren't you expecting someone?"
"Yes." The archangel lifted her face, looking at him through the dark glass, a half smile forming on his lips. "I was waiting for you. I was waiting for you to dare to come out of hiding." Had the comment earlier been a test?
"Angel..." But the half-smile had rubbed off on him too, relieved. He sat on the bench looking at the difference in posture. Raphael was taller, but from the way he slumped in the seat they looked about the same height. The demon maintained his upright posture and cleared his throat. "Well, Yorshire..."
They went back to their agreement, back to the conversations in St. James's Park, back to their collaborations, back to the plans...
Aziraphale realised that the years he had been without the archangel's presence, life had felt less pleasant, the books read in that period were less interesting, the restaurants had little to highlight, and he realised the reasons why. The books were more striking when he shared his opinions and theories with the archangel, he enjoyed the snorts of boredom when he told him for the third time the same book or scene from several different points of view. He enjoyed having him around when he ate, being able to give his opinion on flavours while the other would rather enjoy a drink or order something for himself and end up giving it to Aziraphale without even tasting it. A simple ice cream bought from a street cart seemed like the best delicacy in the universe if he could watch the angel's eyes roll as the ice cream began to melt, the "I told you we should have taken more napkins" or her giggle as Aziraphale began to stain his fingers. Of course Aziraphale responded dryly, of course he acted offended, and of course he pretended not to notice how the angel watched him eat, but he liked it all and had missed it.
Eventually he began to understand why the archangel always wore glasses, and on more than one occasion Aziraphale had wondered if he noticed when he was staring at him, if Raphael had been aware that when his lips were stained with wine the demon could do nothing but look at them... But he never knew if Raphael was looking at him. In all these years they had met only in St. James's Park, at most in a nearby coffee shop, on one occasion Raphael had walked him back to the bookshop.
"I'm just saying you should listen to more modern music," said the archangel, walking slowly, side by side. Aziraphale hugged a perfectly preserved first edition against his chest and Raphael had his hands in his pockets.
"And I tell you I prefer the Classics, besides, I don't like Bebop..." He stopped at the door, under the sign, looking at the archangel and bit his lip. "Well... It's been a nice afternoon..." he lifted the book "Thanks for this... You really didn't have to."
"Shut up... It's better in your hands than in that antique shop..." He rolled his eyes with a smirk. "It's going to get dusty anyway but you'll take better care of it."
"Why can't you just say you're welcome?" That gesture meant a lot to Aziraphale, the archangel had seen the book, had remembered him and had bought it for the demon... It warmed his chest, because Raphael remembered him when he wasn't around. They settled into a comfortable silence. "Would you like to come in? I have some bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape that I keep for special occasions and..."
Since that night, since the kiss that they had never spoken about, they had never been alone in one place. They always met in public spaces, of course Aziraphale had never been back to the Mayfair flat, he didn't even know if Raphael still lived there, he hadn't even gone back to the Bently, that's why they were walking. Of course Raphael hadn't set a foot in the bookshop since, and the demon had to admit that he had missed him. He missed his presence even when they were silent, missed feeling his scent when he left... And maybe it was time to have that closeness again. Aziraphale looked at him fearfully, a glimmer of illusion crossing his face but this time it was the archangel who stepped away. The red-haired angel's arms were wrapped around his sides more defensively, protectively. Aziraphahle would have given anything to see his eyes at that moment, cursed those sunglasses though he supposed that was the function. More than a decade ago he had hurt the angel, he remembered the pain in his eyes when he walked away and Raphael had made sure he couldn't see him again. The demon wondered if when Raphael took a step back he could see that same pain in his blue eyes.
"No, I'm sorry I..." His voice was weak "I don't think that's a good idea..."
" It's ok..." The demon's mouth felt dry, he felt guilty, hurt. Suddenly the night air was incredibly cold and the silence uncomfortable, his eyes burned and the seconds felt like hours. His gaze was fixed on the archangel's face but he was looking at the ground.
"I'm sorry I just don't... I can't... I can't... I don't..." Raphael was trying to explain himself, he was searching in his head for the right words. He didn't want to reveal too much, he didn't want to expose himself again because the truth was that that night in his appartment was still very present in his memory. What if he was misunderstanding it again? But he couldn't be sure that in the bookshop, with all those memories, he would be able to stop himself. He couldn't afford to lose the demon's company for so long again. He couldn't bear it if something happened again and he had to pretend that nothing had happened. He couldn't forget.
"Uh..." Aziraphale tried to speak in a calm voice, after all it was what he deserved, it wouldn't be fair to get angry at the angel for establishing a distance that he himself had created. "You don't have to explain... Good night, angel."
"I..." Raphael looked up again. After a couple of seconds he nodded. "Good night Aziraphale."
They both turned away, cursing as they walked away.
However, their meetings continued, always in public places, but they tried to see each other at least once a week. The week they didn't meet, they both got into a terrible mood. Perhaps that was why Aziraphale went to the meeting called by his superiors in a bad temper.
He couldn't suppress an "Ugh..." at the sight of Lingur and Hastur's attire, he had to suppress a grimace of disgust when their scent flooded his nostrils, why did they assume that after their fall they couldn't meet certain standards of decency, etiquette and décor? They handed him that damn basket, Aziraphale could feel the buzzing in his ears from his anger. Somehow, after receiving the gift from hell, he knew all the steps to follow as if it was something he had studied for years. He went to the convent, handed over the basket and in less than two seconds he was back in the bookshop.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." he cursed over and over again as he dialled the archangel's number on his antique landline phone.
Raphael was driving at full speed through the streets of London, as usual Queen was playing "Don't stop me now" on the radio. Suddenly the supreme archangel appeared in his car.
"Gabriel!" He startled as he slammed on the brakes, it was a miracle that no one collided with them.
"Raphael... I will never understand why you use these transportation method..." Replied the opposite looking at the car with aversion.
"Well... if I am to live among humans I must transport myself as they do, it's not bad, it's fun and..." But he fell silent as he saw how Gabriel looked at him. "Never mind... What's the matter? Any mistake in my last memo?"
"No, not at all. You've been among humans a lot, it's true and you've done such a remarkable job" A full smile appeared on the purple-eyed archangel's lips. "I've come to give you the good news, you'll be going home soon."
"Home?" The redhead raised an eyebrow until something clicked in his head. "Oh... sure, to Heaven, home... May I ask why? You know no other archangel could do my job here..."
"That's the good thing! There won't be any work to do, everything you've put into practice these years, all your knowledge can soon be applied with your brothers." The red-haired one looked at him without understanding a word. "We have reliable information from below... it seems that the end is near. And it looks like the demon... Aziraphale will have something to do with it. Do your duties still allow you to keep an eye on him, or would you prefer we send someone else?"
"No... I'll handle it." He tried to play it down by waving his hand. He needed to catch up with the blond.
"Are you sure? An archangel shouldn't be in charge of guarding a demon, you know that. Maybe it's a job for a Principality or a..." Before Gabriel could complicate things further Rapahel cut him off.
"I've got him under control, besides, if he's involved in... this... we need to be even more careful, I know his manner, his... way of proceeding, leave it to me."
"Perfect then." Gabriel smiled again showing all his teeth. "See you soon Raphael."
And, just as he had appeared, the supreme archangel vanished. He drove home as fast as he could. He tossed the sunglasses on his desk and that's when his phone rang. It took him a while to get it out of his tight trousers but...
"Aziraphale?" He answered quickly.
"I think we need to talk..."
Once again, on his bench in St. James's Park. Once again a black clad figure perfectly seated on the left corner of the bench, on the right corner, the red haired one seemed to slide into the seat.
"So that's it, that's the end." Aziraphale finished explaining the plan, the final plan.
"We have to do something. There has to be some way to stop it... slow it down..." Said the red-headed one looking at the ducks on the lake.
"We can't." He repeated once more.
"It's easy for you, what will I have left? You have all the good ones, Bowie, Freddy... You don't have Mick but you will if this happens... And me? I'll only have celestial harmonies." He said exaggerating both words with annoyance.
"Raphael stop it, if anyone heard you talk like that..." Of course he couldn't tell her that all he had been able to think about during the night was that they would never see each other again, he would be missing him.
"There will be no nice restaurants where they know you, no pretty cafes..." The archangel turned to look at him through his glasses. "No more old bookshops."
And he stood up, walking towards the exit of the park. As much as Aziraphale liked to watch the archangel's way of walking as he left, this time he followed him. Aziraphale was convinced it would be impossible to change his mind, but the archangel had invited him to lunch.
"So, what are you in the mode for now?" Said the demon wiping himself with the napkin.
"Alcohol" The archangel tapped his glass with a smiling spoon. "Quite extraordinary amouts of alcohol."
"Fine, I'll call the waiter and have him bring us..." he was already in the process of raising his arm when the archangel stopped him by putting his hand on it.
"In heaven they don't enjoy wine very much I want to take advantage of it while I can..." he looked at him over his glasses "Do you still have bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape at your place?"
And, with the archangel looking at him like that, finally being able to see his eyes, asking to go to the bookshop again, knowing that they only had eleven years left to be together... How could he refuse?
oOo
I hope you are enjoying it. Please feel free to post any criticisms in the comments, how would you like to see it continue? A big part of the story will be after the apocalypse-who-wasn't-it's up to you how long it takes to get there. Would you like a slower development of the events to stop the apocalypse (similar to this chapter) or would you prefer a faster development of everything?
I guess in the first way it could be about 15/20 chapters and in the second way about 10.
I'll read you in the comments. Thank you so much for making it this far.
Atte. Morgan
