Chapter 7: No Straight Angels

~~Aziraphale~~

They had made it back to the bookshop. Alarms had sounded in Heaven as they descended the escalators, making them finish the steps manually when the power to them cut. It had been too late for anyone to catch them. And once they were on Earth, they knew all sorts of ways to avoid being caught. There was safety in numbers, and Heaven wouldn't dare wage war on them in the middle of London surrounded by humans. They hoped.

That didn't stop them from putting up new wards, closing the bookstore to only allow the three of them. Muriel had excused themself to the kitchen. They were beginning to learn to read social cues. It was clear that Aziraphale and Crowley had things they needed to discuss.

"You escaped but you came for me," Aziraphale whispered once the safety of their sanctuary was in place.

"I got your message," Crowley said, holding his hand up, showing the ring on his charred finger.

Aziraphale took a hesitant step towards Crowley. He still didn't know if the demon would forgive him. He had made a right mess of things.

"May I?" he asked, holding both his hands out, palms up.

Crowley placed the backs of his hands on top of his, and he pulled the miracle to him, letting it slide into Crowley's skin. His hands healing first, and then spreading up his wrists and forearms.

"They did this because of me." He didn't meet Crowley's eyes. "They made me watch, to see if I was holding back. I would have given them everything they wanted if I could have, to make it stop."

"I know," Crowley said, he pulled his hands back and turned away.

"Did you want to change? I could give you a minute."

They both knew Crowley didn't need the privacy for a clothing change miracle, but Aziraphale could tell that it was all a bit much. He felt it too.

"I'll make some tea," he said and made his way to the kitchen.

As he walked in, Muriel stood there, holding a tray with two cups and a pot full of perfectly steeped tea.

"Get back out there. I did not risk my life twice today for you two to ignore each other," Muriel said and handed him the tray.

Aziraphale took the tray back out with him. Crowley was sitting on the couch, dressed in black again with his head down, and he was spinning Aziraphale's ring on his finger.

He set the tray down and sat next to him.

"Crowley, I'm …"

"I almost killed myself," Crowley said, and Aziraphale flinched. It was probably the reaction he was after.

"I know. I watched it almost happen."

Crowley's eyes flew up to meet his. "How? I thought you were being held in that room."

"I was, but not the whole time. They thought they could keep me under their thumb. Turns out, I've spent too much time with a rebellious demon; it seems to have rubbed off."

Crowley's lips twitched, but he didn't respond.

"I have so much to tell you, but this feels so fragile. I'm afraid if I say the wrong words it might all break."

"There are things I need answers to. I don't understand a lot of what happened. Why it happened. But first …" Crowley's eyes lifted to meet Aziraphale's, and they looked so vulnerable. "Can I have a hug?"

"My dear boy, you can have as many as you like."

Aziraphale shifted closer on the couch and reached out to wrap his arms around Crowley. It was awkward at first. They'd never hugged before, and sitting felt less than ideal for the full effect, but Aziraphale had never felt anything so wonderful. Crowley's arms slid under his and around his waist, and then he rested his cheek on the top of Aziraphale's head.

It was amazing how quickly bodies created warmth when they pressed together. The feeling started in his heart, and it spread through his body, filling him down to his toes. The emotion bubbled up until it had nowhere to go, and Aziraphale started crying.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He sobbed, and Crowley's arms tightened around him.

"Angel," he whispered. "I don't want your apologies."

Why would he? Aziraphale had hurt him not once but twice at The Metatron's insistence. He was the cause of Crowley being captured and tortured. Maybe one day they could be allies again, but to hope for more than that, Aziraphale shouldn't be so greedy.

"Of course," Aziraphale said, and he tried to pull back, but Crowley held him tight.

"I would forgive you anything," Crowley continued. "You idiot."

Aziraphale shuddered, and he thought he felt Crowley's lips brush over his head, but it was probably just him readjusting his head. Still, Aziraphale's heart pounded faster.

"Still, I have so much to tell you."

"Is there danger tonight?" Crowley asked.

"No, I think the wards should keep us safe inside the shop. But we may be trapped in here for a while until we figure out what to do next."

"Well, the company in this jail cell is much preferable to my last one."

Aziraphale pulled back, and this time, Crowley let him.

"I'm the reason you were there."

"I'm probably going to be mad at you again. But I've spent the last who knows how long I was in there thinking I would never see you again."

Aziraphale took his hands. There were so many things he needed to say, but Crowley needed him not to lighten his own load but to carry some of what Crowley was carrying. He stayed quiet for a moment, trying to sort thoughts into place. He rubbed his thumb over Crowley's hand and smiled when his thumb brushed his ring.

"S'pose you want this back now?" Crowley asked, his voice low and rough.

Aziraphale did not want the ring back. He liked seeing it on Crowley's long finger. Like a piece of himself that was forever attached to Crowley. He knew now all of him was forever attached to Crowley. He had seen the paperwork to prove it.

A few months ago, he would have taken his ring back. Scared what it would have meant to tell Crowley to keep it. He spent his whole existence being scared. Of what would happen. Even if the happening could be good. It wasn't how he wanted to live anymore.

"I'd like you to keep it, if you like." He smiled up at Crowley.

"I like," Crowley responded simply, and he squeezed Aziraphale's hands. "Did you mean what you said?"

Aziraphale winced, remembering the horrible things he'd said to Crowley the last time he'd seen him. But before he could answer, Crowley kept talking.

"About kissing me?"

Oh.

"That was about the only thing I did say to you in Heaven that was true," Aziraphale answered. He could feel the warming on his cheeks. "I'm afraid …"

He stopped when he met Crowley's eyes. There were so many things swirling in his head. Would Crowley be upset when he found out everything Aziraphale knew? What would he think when he found out how much he'd been lied to about? Would he understand it was all done to protect him, or would it be the final straw? Aziraphale couldn't bear the thought of hurting Crowley anymore. Tonight, he needed a respite; they both did. So Aziraphale found himself leaning in, and he pressed his lips to Crowley's.

This was not the bruising kiss they had shared before, but it burned just as hot. Aziraphale's lips gently brushed over Crowley's. Oh, this was marvellous. His heart beat fast, and he placed one of his hands on Crowley's chest to feel the demon's heart beating just as quickly.

Crowley wrapped his arms around him, and Aziraphale sighed as Crowley twisted, and he found himself draped over his lap. It felt like his whole body shook as he slipped his hand into Crowley's hair, his perfect partner kissing him with such tenderness. He could discorporate.

Aziraphale could feel the tremble echoed in Crowley's lips as they kissed. He soothed his darling with gentle touches, fingering the silken hair he had longed to touch for millenia. How new and wonderful all these feelings were. How close he'd been to never tasting this. It made him ravenous for more.

"Crowley," he cooed, not sure if he was trying to get his attention or whisper a prayer.

Crowley pulled back, keeping him in his arms. His eyes were so pretty. It wasn't something Aziraphale would have ever said out loud before. Even though he'd painted his room the same shade, it was forbidden to say out loud. Now he was determined that nothing would be kept from him.

"Your eyes are the most beautiful thing in all of existence."

"Shut up," Crowley answered, but it was soft and the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings about the compliment.

Aziraphale grabbed the ends of Crowley's bolo tie and pulled him back down, kissing him again. Getting lost in the new sensations. The feel of lips, thighs against his lower back, long strong arms wrapped around him like a blanket. He felt loved. He felt whole.

~~Crowley~~

Crowley looked out the window through the blinds, the sun had come up on another day. It was both ominous and glorious. He was with Aziraphale, and he knew they were safe—for now—but it was hard not to wait for the other shoe to drop. Falling was like second nature to him now, but Aziraphale had just taken him higher than he'd ever been, and the view was terrifying.

He knew they needed to talk. He just really hadn't wanted to. He didn't think Aziraphale was going to let him get away with it. But he did. And he kissed the angel senseless, or the angel kissed him senseless. It could probably be declared a draw.

But now that the talk had been put off, it was even more daunting. Staying in the dark felt like the safer option, so he'd let the angel have a moment of his own with a cup of reheated tea.

"Crowley," the soft voice was accompanied by two arms that wrapped around his middle. Heaven had never felt this good. "I think it's time we talked."

Aziraphale took his hand and led him back to the couch where he sat stiffly. The urge to put a pair of glasses on his face was strong, but miracling up a pair to hide behind felt like a step back he wasn't willing to take again.

"I'm afraid I don't know where to begin," Aziraphale said, fidgeting his hands on his lap.

Crowley in turn tried to put the questions he had in some semblance of order. He searched for a safe starting place, and when he found there was none, he sighed.

"Did you know I wouldn't come with you? When you asked."

"Yes. I knew you would be upset. I didn't know you would … kiss me." His cheeks blushed pink. Surely from the memories of the ones they'd just shared and not the mess he'd made of the first one.

"Then why ask me?"

"It might be better if I tell you what happened with The Metatron before that. He told me something about us."

"Angels?"

"No, us. You and I."

"What would he know about us?" Crowley scoffed.

"He knew the special way we are connected."

"We stopped Armageddon together; I think everyone knows we worked together by now."

"Are you going to let me finish?" Aziraphale admonished him, but there was no real ire in his tone.

Crowley made a noncommittal sound and adjusted in his seat.

"You and I weren't made like other angels," Aziraphale started.

"There's something wrong with us?"

Aziraphale flashed him another look, and he held up his hands to show he was done.

"Well The Metatron told me that you and I were connected. That if one of us were to … expire, permanently, the other one would follow."

Crowley didn't interrupt but it took everything not to. Why would he believe that? It seemed like such an obvious play.

"Let's just say he was very convincing," Aziraphale answered after seeing the look on his face. "And when I was in Heaven, I found our files, and it's true. We are linked. We weren't made like the other angels, Crowley. God made us together, at the same time, splitting the ingredients down the middle to make two loaves instead of one. We are each a half of the other. But She didn't limit our powers to half. We have the same as any other angel, or demon in your case, but together …" Aziraphale began ringing his hands so fiercely that Crowley couldn't help but reach out and put a calming hand over them.

"That's why our miracle to hide Gabriel worked so well."

"We are like one being … but more." Aziraphale punctuated with a flare of his hands, and then dropped them back down to his lap just as quickly. "It's like twins. They start out as one, and then split apart to become two separate entities."

Crowley made a face. "So, what? I'm your brother?"

"No, dear, no," he said firmly, and his insistence made Crowley smile. "That is perhaps too human of an analogy. Think of it like the stars. When you made a star you used the same process for them all. Some used more and some used less depending on the size you wanted them to be. Imagine you took the sun and split it into two stars but you gave each piece all the shine and heat of the original creation. But that is too much for each of those little stars, so the only safe way they can access all of themselves is if they are together."

It hardly made sense. Aziraphale was his other half? Like some sort of ineffable husband ordained by God? Except it made all the sense in his heart. Had he not always felt more whole when Aziraphale was with him? "So, then I'm your bad half?"

"No, Crowley. If anything, I'm the bad half. I've hurt you so much. I thought I was being silly. That the way I felt for you couldn't possibly be the way you felt for me. I was trying to protect you and all I did was make it worse. We were never meant to be apart."

"Was it even our choice then?" Crowley scowled, and the look on Aziraphale's face made him immediately regret voicing the thought.

"Love is always a choice. We could have just as easily served a divine purpose as friends, or even just coworkers. While I can't deny the pull I've always felt toward you. It is our time together that brought the fondness. Surely, you didn't like me right from the start."

"Quite right. You were very annoying," Crowley teased.

"I was not, you, you …" Aziraphale caught on and shook his head, but his indignance turned quickly to a smile, accomplishing Crowley's goal to release some of the tension between them.

Crowley tried to wrap his mind around what Aziraphale was telling him, and before he could slot those pieces in place, Aziraphale threw more at him. He told him about their files combining to create a new file. The directive on that new file to keep them together. And how they were Earth's protectors. Crowley felt the mantle settle on him easily. He never really felt like a demon and even less like an angel, but a protector of Earth? That was a job title he could live with.

Had God known how much they would love it when She made them? Why hadn't She told them? And his fall, Crowley couldn't even start to process what that meant in all of this.

"If all of that is true, why did they take you to become Archangel, and then not let you be Archangel?"

"I was never going to be an Archangel. They wanted us apart. They knew they couldn't control us together. That was what they were doing with me in that room. They brought in other angels to see if they tried performing a miracle with me if it would be as strong. When it wasn't, they tried using you against me to make me perform better. I think they're planning something. I can't figure out what it is."

"But if God wants us to be together, then why is Heaven trying to keep us apart?"

There was something they were missing. Crowley stood up and paced the room. He ran through the time since Aziraphale left, able to look at some of it with a fresh perspective. Aziraphale stood up as well and watched him anxiously.

"The holy water," Crowley said, suddenly horrified.

"What?"

"You saw me with the holy water. You watched as I just about killed us both!"

"But you didn't."

Aziraphale took Crowley's face in his hands, stopping him from spinning around to pace back the way he'd come.

"I find that I might need to lie down."

"You don't sleep, angel."

"No, I don't believe sleep will help revive my weary heart, but I think lying down will."

Crowley still didn't understand. The angel was looking at him with a softness around his eyes, eyes that were staring directly at his lips.

Oh!

"Ngk, right," Crowley replied.

Aziraphale took his hand and led him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Crowley had only ever been in there when Jim—Gabriel had stayed there. It felt entirely different being in there now.

It was strange to think about that time being easier. Simpler. It hadn't felt that way then. Hiding an archangel with no memory felt very scary. Crowley was almost nostalgic for it. And yet as he watched Aziraphale take off the clothes Heaven had sanctioned for him until all he was left in was a white vest and white boxers with a tiny band of tartan around the leg holes, he couldn't help but feel like the trials of the present were worth it.

Crowley felt weird taking off clothing that was only a miracle. He could have snapped his fingers and vanished them, but that quick display of skin felt too much, too fast. So he peeled off his clothes one piece at a time, letting them drop to the floor, only then vanishing off to wherever they went when he wasn't wearing them. When he was down to just his pants, he took a step toward his angel.

"S' a lot of new in a short amount of time. We don't have to go so fast, not with us."

If there was one thing he'd learned about his angel through the years was that Aziraphale took time with everything. Each decision was weighed and measured, and if anything felt rushed, he had the tendency of shutting down. Crowley's heart couldn't bear that happening again. Not with this. Not when he was finally able to call the angel his. Truly his.

"I appreciate your concern. And I guarantee you that I do not plan on rushing anything. But I do know that we have both just come from very stressful situations, so as much as we both might want … more … I am content with less for tonight."

"Less?" Crowley asked.

"Not a lot less, mind you. I still wish for you to kiss me until, what is the phrase? Ah yes, until I can't see straight."

"Got it, no straight angels."

Crowley closed the distance between them and kissed Aziraphale. The sensation was so much more now with their skin touching. It was like a match was lit under Crowley's skin, and it spread through his body.

A knock came at the door.

"Ello? Do you two need anything? I'm going to settle in with a book," Muriel asked through the door.

"We are tickety-boo in here; please enjoy your book."

Crowley started laughing, the absurdity of the whole situation hitting him at once.

"Tickety-boo?"

"Is it not?" Aziraphale challenged him, his voice dropping low.

Crowley moved and crawled into the bed, holding open the covers for Aziraphale.

"Come on, angel. I love you, but I'm not conceding to tickety-boo."

Aziraphale didn't argue; instead, he did a quick little hop that warmed Crowley's heart and joined him in the bed where they spent the next few hours forgetting everything else.