Crowley is already in the car because damn, thank goodness, he thought this was never going to end. Aziraphale takes a bit longer to arrive because he's slower. He gets into the car.
He takes a bit more whiskey because he also doesn't want to have the conversation that's coming now and then puts the bottle in the glove compartment, looking at him.
"Uh..."
"So..." Crowley raises his eyebrows and then starts the engine.
"T-This is a misunderstanding." the angel looks at his hands.
"Oooh. A... misunderstanding. Uh-huh?" the demon looks at him sideways.
"N-No?"
"Could be. I was hoping you'd explain it to me."
"M-Me?" Aziraphale looks at him sideways.
"Well, what do you think has been misunderstood? What do you mean?" Crowley shrugs.
"Well, they... Uhm." he looks at his hands again.
"Mhm..."
"You know how humans are. People tend to be weird. A bit. And getideas. And they're my friends and..." I don't have nearly as many friends to make a fuss about this, and it's easier to ignore them and pretend I don't understand, he thinks to himself. He blushes and squints.
"Doesn't that bother you? The ideas. The kind of ideas, I mean."
"W-What do you mean?"
"So what's the misunderstanding, according to you?"
"You know what it is" he glances at him sideways.
"It seems there are several, so since we're at it, I want to know the one you consider important."
"Y-You and I... w-we respect each other" he wipes his hands and sighs into his pants, nervous.
"Don't make this weird by talking about that, Aziraphale" Crowley wrinkles his nose and leans back, rolling his eyes, but doesn't look at him because he's blushing a bit. The angel squints at this scolding. "Uhm... W-What about all those people?"
"What about them?"
"Well, you'll say."
"What do you mean? The people that..."
"The one from the Satanic bookstore, the stripper, Oscar..."
"Ah, some are used to explain some stories I've had to tell and that you might find familiar.
"Familiar..."
"Familiar."
"I didn't find the one about the writer familiar at all."
"Ahh, that" he blushes a little and looks at his hands. "I had explained about him on the way there."
"Really? Doesn't seem like you told me anything given how it turned out."
"H-How not?! Considering the time we have..."
"Well, we have quite a bit now."
"D-Do we? We actually came quickly here and... W-Well, you'd have to tell me other things."
"I'd have to tell you what?"
"Well, how you've been, what you've thought. And what you've been told, besides this!"
"Ah, right" succinct summaries by Anthony Janthony Crowley.
"Right? Is that all you're going to tell me? "Right"?"
"Well, I haven't killed you all as I thought might happen at some point. It's gone pretty well in my opinion."
"Kill us? Why?"
"You're all insufferable."
"For what?! Come on!"
"Weren't you listening to them? Posh" he parks the car.
"You think they were Posh? That's not a reason to hate anyone or call them insufferable!"
"They weren't just Posh" he looks at him sideways and gets out of the car.
"So?" he also gets out, looking at him.
Crowley looks at him over the roof of the car.
"Whaaat?"
"They were like small, impertinent versions of yourself" the demon gestures with his fingers as if they were scurrying over the car like cockroaches and then looks before crossing the street to enter the bookshop.
"Small and impertinent" the angel purses his lips a bit, following him. "Well, that's what I get for introducing you to my friends."
"Not even sure what you like about them" Crowley pauses at the door, waiting for him to open it.
"Well, they're kind and fun. And they dance" he explains as he opens the door. What he likes about them is that they listen to him and treat him well.
"They do? Do you often dance with... Christopher?"
"Charles. I don't dance with anyone, we all dance together" he holds the door for him to enter.
"He seemed to want you to bring him here and..." the demon enters, looking around.
"None of that is going to happen" the angel hurries to interrupt him as he finishes closing the door again, then turns around, looking at him.
"And he seemed pretty frustrated about it" Crowley raises his hands innocently, walking backward into the shop. "Honestly, I knew you were a bastard, but I never had you pegged as a heartbreaker..."
"I'm not a... I'm not what you're saying!" he protests, leaving his coat and hat in their place.
"There's no other name for it,though they deserve it. They seem to understand it and yet there they are, waiting for your breadcrumbs." the demon looks around and then looks at him again.
"But I don't... I don't. I'm not human. I'm an angel. I insist that what they do elsewhere is their business, but with me they know it's off the table" Aziraphale moves his hands in a definitive gesture of denial.
"And then there's..." Crowley drums his fingers on the bookshop counter and then looks at him with a slightly unhinged smile. "OSCAR! who apparently doesn't fit into that category."
"He did fit into that category" the angel frowns.
"Even they consider him your ex" he glances at him sideways and goes to the shelves, browsing the books.
"They shouldn't. Oscar had a wife, children, and even a lover" Aziraphale squints at that, following him. Crowley pauses in front of a shelf and glances at him.
"Did you go to that wedding?" he whispers, because it's one thing for the angel to be an idiot and go gallivanting around, and another for someone to be a complete IDIOT to him and dare to invite him to watch someone else's wedding with someone else.
"Yes, I did go to his wedding with Constance..." he nods. The demon frowns and turns back to the books. We're liking Oscar more and more by the minute. "He was a public figure and started to become VERY successful. He wanted to marry Florence before, but she broke his heart."
"Ah, furthermore" the same indignation as before.
"It was a strange and intense time. Let's say he was an interesting character" the angel looks at him being so indignant and tilts his head slightly.
"I usually require begging you to shut up and not repeat the same stories twenty times... not telling them to me again" the redhead glances at him sideways.
"Begging me to shut up" the blonde protests, frowning a bit. "You're exaggerating!"
"Fine. Okay. Don't tell me. It's probably boring, and I don't want to know anyway" trying a bit of reverse psychology. He turns back to the books.
"It's not that I don't want to tell you, and it definitely wasn't boring" he looks at him with a furrowed brow.
"Sure, sure."
"He was... Well, a bit different from other humans. I didn't like him much at first because he came here with certain airs of superiority, looking at all of us as if he were THE GREAT WRITER. Which he was, though he told us his name was Omar and that he was a lawyer. From the way he argued and defended himself, it seemed true. However, it didn't take me long to realize that his eloquence was more a gesture derived from his own writing ability than from any study of laws, natural or human. He was a free soul.
Crowley looks at him with all that, and it's just that with this way of speaking, he'd like to tell him to shut up and not know more about it.
"He fooled us all with his stories, pretending to be someone he wasn't until, uhm... fame caught up with him. I read his books and fell in love with them, even without knowing they were his. WITH THE BOOKS.
The demon has to bite his lip with that and goes back to the books again, listening.
"And he thought he had been discovered" Aziraphale adds, squinting because the truth is he didn't discover anything, but he's not going to admit that.
Crowley squints because, of course, there was a whole story of double identities and espionage and... high pitching voice: "his eloquence was more a gesture derived from his own writing ability". Well, he could also be super eloquent if he wanted, only he didn't want to because he didn't want the angel to be even MORE ridiculous around him as he seemed with this idiot. But if he wanted to, he could have been the most eloquent of the eloquent. The eloquentest. He could have been called eloquence as a middle name. Everyone would have acclaimed his eloquencely eloquenced eloquence if he had wanted to. But he didn't. That was it.
What is eloquence, Crowley?
Look it up in the dictionary. Jeez!
"We assured him we wouldn't do anything to hurt him" the angel continues.
Rolling his eyes because of course... they have to protect him. He continues pretending to search through the books. Giving about ninety-nine percent attention to Aziraphale and one percent trying to seem cool and uninterested in all this. This would be easier if it didn't seem like the books had been ordered by a forgetful idiot Gabriel or something like that.
"We ended up being great friends. He wasn't so young anymore and needed a woman to position himself properly in society."
Crowley has an idea suddenly and frowns at Aziraphale because if he's right... he's going to his desk, still listening to him.
"Maybe I should get a woman to position myself properly among humans" the demon protests, not even knowing what he's protesting.
"Wh-What?" Aziraphale asks, softly, taking a second to catch his breath, not expecting that statement, looking at him because...
"It makes sense, doesn't it? If I have a partner, it's easier for humans to accept the idea of me existing around them and pay less attention to me. It's like a better alibi" Crowley explains while searching through the books on the table, under papers and behind things.
Aziraphale looks at him with his mouth open because he feels like he just got Crowley back just for him to have this idea now, and one thing is for him to have it Oscar and another, for Crowley to have it.
"HA!" the demon exclaims, having found the stupid book, pulling it from under where it's located. Of course, on the desk. To have it close at hand. "The Picture of Dorian Gray" Could there possibly be a stupider title?
The angel blinks. Crowley opens the first pages to see if there's a stupid eloquently eloquenciated dedication like:
"To the love of my life, the angel with whom I've slept in every corner of this bookshop and whom I've touched and caressed and allowed to do whatever I wanted and not like with you, pathetic loser, third-rate demon. Even in your Bentley, my name has been moaned and not yours.
Yours, Oscar the Wild"
Who the hell signs as "Oscar the Wild" anyway? That's even cringier than expected.
It does have a dedication, albeit about a third as ridiculous as that.
"To Dorian in essence, because the fatality of faith is that the things we believe to be completely true never are, and because all influence is scientifically immoral.
From Lord Henry."
Crowley blinks, not understanding that at all. I mean, he gets the faith part for Aziraphale, but... what's immoral about influence? What the hell is this guy talking about? And why sign "Lord Henry"?
The angel tenses up because that's his copy of the first edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray, signed, and Crowley is telling him that maybe he should get married. And we're not here to take it away from him, but...
Crowley looks at him over the page of the book after reading and not understanding ANYTHING. Intently.
"N-No, I don't think you should get married" Aziraphale whispers.
The demon closes the book, shows it to him, and then puts it in the inner pocket of his jacket. Aziraphale swallows hard, taking a micro step towards him, but not arguing. If this doesn't speak to you of LOVE, Crowley, I don't know what will.
He tilts his head with that micro step and lifts his chin as if challenging him to tell him not to take it.
He didn't say anything!
But still...
He didn't say anything!
"You're listening to me, right?" the blonde asks.
"I don't see why not. It seems to be something that works," the demon responds to the previous statement, causing the angel to roll his eyes. "Well then, what happened to your fiancé?" he blurts out without thinking, because he wanted to say 'ward' but that's not what he's thinking about.
"None of... You know? If you're going to react like this, then this conversation is over."
"Ward. I meant ward," he rolls his eyes, and Aziraphale looks at him for a few more seconds, assessing him, before continuing.
"He fell for the wrong girl."
"He... fell for sure. Wasn't it all a setup?" he crosses his arms.
"I don't think he didn't love them."
"Are you in love with God?" the demon raises an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You're not going to tell me you don't love her..."
"Ugh, fine."
"So? His heart got broken and his ass, apparently, and..."
"Crowley!" he complains.
The demon slumps into his chair like a puppet, huffing, because this isn't going to progress.
"His heart got broken and he met someone else." Aziraphale keeps going.
"Yeah, yeah poor sod. Or good for him, whatever. And you?"
"And me?"
"Well, you. What's your part in all this?"
"I was his friend."
Eye roll from the demon.
"We had a close relationship, but it's not the relationship you're imagining," Aziraphale blushes nonetheless.
"I'm imagining what your friends have told me."
"What have they told you? They... they fantasize."
"That you took him from the club like they take others. And that he's your ex. That you went to the funeral and made a scene..." Crowley moistens his lips and looks at the angel over his glasses. "And that they saw you kiss him."
"Whaaaat? They couldn't have seen me kiss him!"
"Alright, Aziraphale," he responds with a furrowed brow. The named blushes, looking at Crowley all stressed.
"I-It might have happened once, but..." he confesses.
Crowley looks at him again, freezing because he was bluffing about that.
"Not like you're imagining!" the angel adds.
"Then?"
"I don't know! Ugh! Crowley! I don't... wh-what... you! Ugh!" he's pretty panicked about all this.
"What?" the demon's tough, serious, and pressing attitude doesn't help.
"Cr-Crowley..." empty, not knowing what to say, or how to say it, feeling like it's judgment day.
"What?" he insists.
Aziraphale bites his lip because thinking about this is hard enough, now, talking about it. And with Crowley. It's... it's like a nightmare! Because it's not that he couldn't talk about things with Crowley, really, or that he didn't like it.
"You know?" he adjusts his glasses and stands up before he answers. "I think it's better if I go now."
"I think this is rather unfair. But go ahead, leave again. How long will it be? Another hundred years?"
"I don't think they'll allow me, but if that's what you want..." he shrugs. "... call me when you want."
"No, not calling you isn't what I want," he protests.
"Then don't call me," eye roll and hands in pockets, heading for the door.
"No, not calling you isn't what I want! Ugh, fine, fine... just go."
Crowley glances at him sideways while opening the door, as if to say, "Yes, I'm going to leave."
"Crowley..." he pleads, changing his tone to a sweeter one. Crowley looks at him, standing with the door open. "... could you come back?"
"Back where?"
"Here, to talk to me instead of running off."
"Am I running off?" the demon closes the door again.
"Th-That's how it seems."
"Alright," he claps his thighs and gestures with his hands. "I'll stay," he decides because maybe he's rushing things. The angel always seems to go at a pace that frustrates him with its slowness, so "patience, Crowley" he tells himself, sitting back down. "Talk," he makes a hand gesture.
"T-Talk. I just want you to try to understand me, okay?"
Another hand gesture to explain then.
"You've gone over seventy years without talking to me."
"Alright, alright, I'll be patient. Don't flay me."
"Flay you? You're flaying me."
"Me?" eye roll.
"Yes! You were even about to leave all angry again. Another hundred years," the angel adds a bit of drama. The demon moistens his lips and looks at him sideways.
"What am I doing here, Aziraphale?"
"Well, don't leave angry again."
"No," he takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose because that's not what he's asking.
"You're terribly frustrated," Aziraphale sighs.
"Yes, because I don't understand you. I'm not here... " he hesitates. "... jealous, because there's nothing to be jealous of, and it's not like I would be. I was asleep and even if I hadn't been it's not like you are... It's not even like I want you to be. We're not going to talk about that," he turns his face dismissing that topic again and clears his throat. "I'm not your friend either because I'm a demon blablabla and you don't really want to tell me that some idiot broke your heart or whatever. But I'm not an acquaintance either because you don't want me to leave without knowing the story."
"It's complicated," Aziraphale squirms. "But that doesn't make it..."
"What?"
"Let's not NAME things, alright?"
"I don't want to name anything. I just want to know what you want me to do. I can be here and pretend to care about your story or I can leave and let you handle it alone like you've been doing. I can't do both."
"Pretend?"
THE DEATH GLARE.
"I think he thought I was a poor boy who knew nothing of the world, whom he could take under his wing and teach about real life." Aziraphale starts again.
Crowley raises an eyebrow because... uh-huh.
"Could we start this again?" the angel squirms again.
The demon flops onto the couch dramatically and huffs a bit because start again what? If nothing has even started.
"We could discuss this topic with care for him, or we can keep talking about it like it's a Scotland Yard interrogation."
"You're so dramatic. I'm not interrogating you" Crowley protests.
"With your attitude, this doesn't seem like a conversation between..." he swallows. "Equals."
"It never is" he leans back, crossing one leg over the other.
"It's never equal?"
"No, it usually isn't. I always start from a base of manipulation and lies and evil..."
"Oh, come on" Aziraphale rolls his eyes, and Crowley shrugs. "...since when do you pay so much attention to those things?"
He sighs because that's a completely different argument.
"I'm going to fetch a bottle of wine" the angel decides. "Any preferences?"
"No, bring whatever you like" the demon glances at him.
"Alright..." and off he goes to get it.
Crowley sighs on the couch, looking around because, although everything seems to have changed a lot out there as he's noticed in the last month, the bookshop, despite the changes, retains its essence and helps him a bit with the vertigo he won't admit he feels.
Ahaaa. So you like that the bookshop still feels a bit the same.
No! Obviously, there's a lot missing here... a radio and a telegraph and a pharanfena and one of those things that look like a circus tent turned upside down like a horn with those spinning things.
Pharanfena?
Yes! He's going to get one and you're going to see how cool it is and you're going to want one too.
We like the idea of your pharanfena. Well, Aziraphale comes back with two glasses and his bottle of Chateau du... something.
While right now Crowley can't help but wonder if he ever sat with the idiot on this couch and if he leaned over and they kissed like there was no tomorrow. He reminds himself that the angel can do whatever he wants, and that doesn't make him jealous at all, who would be so ridiculous as to want to do that anyway? Ew. The idiot kids from the club and nobody else. And he doesn't even know how that happened to them. He looks at Aziraphale.
No, he didn't sit there like that, certainly. He sat somewhere else and NOT to smooch him.
"Well..."
"Yes?" Crowley tilts his head, assessing him. Because he actually doesn't like him that much, especially if he's an angel. All prim and proper and annoying.
The complete therapy of why you don't like Aziraphale. Alright, alright. The angel serves the glasses, very prim and proper of course. He brings one over carefully and goes to sit in the armchair, crossing his legs.
Well, look at him there all... posh, with his pinkie up, removing nonexistent lint from the armchair and adjusting his clothes so they don't wrinkle before sitting. He even brought a coaster.
Plus, all neatly groomed, perfumed, with his slightly ridiculous shoes and his new waistcoat. Because he has a new waistcoat. You don't know. And all his manners and mannerisms are posh. Oh yes. He brought, who knows from where, some pastries, with a little plate and a golden spoon. Nobody has any idea when or how he washes these.
Crowley is even asking to himself what he was thinking. And if he hasn't gone a bit too far by taking the book, and it's been too obvious.
Will it not be too obvious that Aziraphale will think if you like it when you don't? Maybe a little.
"Well, Crowley. The crux of the matter is that, even if you don't believe it, we've progressed. We had the pact, and we could see each other from time to time to discuss some issues. We had a good relationship, even if it was distant. And you occasionally made me see some things that perhaps I wouldn't have seen otherwise. It was useful to see things from the perspective of the opposing side," Aziraphale explains now a bit more in control, unfortunately interrupting these thoughts of Crowley's, but well, he's not reading them like the rest of us.
Crowley continues to look at him incredulously, reproaching himself because of that London English accent and his know-it-all demeanor, "the crux of the issue, Crowley," he repeats in his mind with a higer pitch, with the good taste you have for everything else.
"And, without any doubt," Aziraphale continues, settling into the armchair after taking a couple of sips of wine. He interrupts himself, "Sorry, darling, Would you like a pastry? There's Strawberry and Lemon."
The demon remains on his mental track, wondering which corner he should have hit his head on or how drunk he was when that question does take him out of the train of thoughts.
"What?"
"Strawberry or lemon," he can't be more fussy if he tries.
"S-Strawberry or..." he hesitates, repeating it while looking at his lips and then his hair as references for the strawberry and the lemon.
"You know? this lemon cream that is quite smooth. We could share them."
"Uh. No, no, you eat them," he answers adding to himself: You eat them because I want to watch you. You can't be thinking that everything seems repulsive to you and start drooling as soon as the idea of watching him eat comes up.
"Oh, well," clearly that's not a tragedy either, the greedy one. The angel smiles nonetheless, bringing the spoon to his mouth with a piece and putting it in his lips.
Crowley follows the movement of the lips with his slightly parted and then clears his throat.
You were telling us why you didn't like this guy at all, Crowley, please continue.
"Mmmm..." the angel licks his lips, enjoying his bite.
Uh... uhm. Uh... ngh. I mean, this doesn't count, it's clearly just a reflex of... I mean, one of those things. Psychological.
In the war of psychology, I thought you established that ANYTHING goes.
Of course not, we're talking about real weighty reasons, not something lascivious he does without realizing!
"What I was saying was, without a shadow of a doubt, there was a clear cordiality between us, much to my chagrin, but you yourself decided to end it."
"I... decided to end it." he repeats, because of the shortage of availability of the only brain cell they all share.
"By leaving."
"And now what?"
"Well, now you're back, and Oscar is no longer here."
"Convenient for you, huh?"
"Well, it's a good thing they didn't overlap because I doubt I could have handled both."
He raises his eyebrows and imagines a threesome because Crowley moves at the speed of light.
Wow... Aziraphale smiles a little, very cynically now.
"Why not?" his gift has always been asking questions, but sometimes it's more of a curse than a gift. He thinks he's going to regret this.
"Because look at how you are and Oscar is dead."
"I'm not in any way! I just want to know what happened."
"He came here and was here while you were away. That's what happened. He was someone important in my life, undoubtedly."
"Oh, someone important in your life who entertained you while I slept, right. Good thing he was there." the demon answers sarcastically.
"Well, someone who was by my side during the tough times while you, preferred to sleep" Eye roll.
"Not that you'd get bored for five minutes."
"A HUNDRED YEARS."
"Against eternity."
"Well, fine" eye roll again. "Nonetheless, you didn't even bother to find out what was going on with me during that time."
"Besides, isn't it what you always say? About not fraternizing and enemies and whatever you say in those speeches that not even you listen to anymore."
"Well, if I was indeed following that idea of not fraternizing with you, but with him instead" boom. Sorry.
Crowley stares at him with his mouth open for a moment.
"It's YOUR fault that I SAY these things!"
"Fine. Understood. I hope you enjoy yourself with your human friends from now on."
"This doesn't work if you're going to take things literally!" Aziraphale rolls his eyes.
"And how should I take them?"
"Crowleeeey! You're impossible!"
"Me?"
"Absolutely, repeating EVERYTHING I've said in my life just as if... I... Like... IF you're not going to cooperate even a LITTLE bit in this, I don't understand why we're having this conversation.
"I came to that conclusion a while ago, and you asked me not to leave."
"But I am cooperating."
"In what way are you cooperating?"
"We're sitting here, talking about a topic that makes me uncomfortable. I'm opening up my heart and telling you my feelings and experiences, and you're not even trying to process them, as if you don't..."
"You haven't told me a single one of your feelings or experiences at all."
"I don't know what you want me to tell you. Maybe you should ask better."
"I've asked you several things."
"And I've answered them all."
"I don't feel like you've answered absolutely any of them."
"For the sake of conversation, ask them again."
"Tell me about the wedding."
"What do you want to know about the wedding?" he looks at him, taking a big gulp of his wine.
"Well, everything, Aziraphale."
"Ask me specific questions."
"Look. You know what? Fine. Fine. Did you fall in love with him?" Crowley asks.
"Ugh" Aziraphale tightens his eyes. "N-No..." he moistens his lips. "M-Maybe a little."
Crowley blinks slooooowly.
"You know? I think... Ugh. I think this topic is counterproductive." Aziraphale complains.
"Why?"
"Because look at your faces!"
"Honestly... I just didn't expect it. Have you ever fallen in love with a human before?"
"No, and I wouldn't do it again."
"The first time is always tough" Crowley says without looking at him, drinking from his wine as if he hadn't just said what he said. Aziraphale BLINKS SLOOOOWLY.
"Excuse me?"
"The bad thing is it doesn't pass quickly" the demon continues as if nothing happened. "But it eventually passes, sooner or later."
"Have you f-fallen in love with... someone?!"
"S-Someone who... again, nothing important or very lasting" he moistens his lips and Aziraphale has even stopped eating to look at him.
"You've been... in love with... whom?"
"Usually because of wrong reasons, I already told you that it's dangerous to grow fond of humans."
"You've been in love with WHO?!" his tone is kind of squeaky. Did it occur to you that making Aziraphale jealous was within your options?
"What does it matter now? They're all dead. That's the point of your argument, isn't it?"
"You know... it's just that... you even have THE BOOK in your jacket! I don't even have..." Aziraphale HUFFS.
"You don't have what?" Crowley looks at him.
"Nothing. Alright. Alright... ALRIGHT."
"It's not like I know much more than a name, and it's not even you who gave it to me" Crowley rolls his eyes.
"Fine, you have the information there" Eye roll. This is an eye-rolling dance. "I don't even have a name. But fine, fine... What else can you tell me about your experience in this? Was it in these hundred years?
"No, I was asleep in these hundred years. But I've lived many more around here, you know?"
Aziraphale just got an ocean of sharks in his head. Hmmm!
"See? This isn't as fun when you're not told everything."
"Crowley... I'm trying to explain, but it's not that simple" Aziraphale huffs again.
"Fine. Keep it to yourself, and I'll keep it to myself."
"I was a guest at that wedding, a confused guest who didn't know what to want from it. I wasn't going to be there instead of Constance, so I couldn't stop it either. I simply saw him and accompanied him, as his friend.
"Alright. Are you okay after that?"
"What followed was harder."
"Aha?"
"Up until then... Well, we're ethereal beings and, in fact, him getting married made everything simpler."
"It doesn't necessarily seem that way to me."
"I could understand that it wasn't for me. Then came Alfred."
"Who is Alfred?"
"The scandalous boy" Aziraphale wrinkles his nose, because Alfred was a blond, young boy, with an innocent face and... someone Aziraphale was very jealous of at the time.
"Oh, so he also had a lover... pffff" he laughs a bit of the absurdity.
Aziraphale shoots him a glare and starts to get up.
"What?" Crowley hesitates, not expecting him to leave.
"Anyway..." he decides, ending this conversation.
"Okay, okay. It's just that..."
"What?" the angel glares a bit.
"Pretty bad luck."
Aziraphale huffs.
"You know him, the lover, I suppose. Or did he also die?" Crowley keeps asking.
"He's still alive, of course" he sits back down.
"Ooh, and how's that going? I... I've ruined people's lives for less than that."
"He is a... "he hesitates, because he would like to use all sorts of inappropriate words. He squints his eyes. "He is... a..."
"It would be easier with a name. You have a distant childhood acquaintance who's a ruthless demon" Crowley shrugs.
"Alfred Bruce Douglas" Aziraphale answers without hesitation, looking very seriously at him with a furrowed brow.
Crowley smiles, because the fact that the angel doesnt even hesitates in considering hiring a hitman is what makes him here sighing for him like an idiot, DEFINITELY.
"He's out there, married to a girl and having a comfortable life, while Oscar is writhing in hell." the angel complains.
"It's not like this one won't end up in hell."
"This one deserves it. Another glass of wine?"
"Please" the demon smiles, offering him the glass.
"It's exasperating how a family can DESTROY a person without even hesitating" Aziraphale declares, pouring the wine.
"Maybe you could tell me how that happened."
"This boy's father supposedly found out about some relationship they could have had between them and left a note at the club."
"The scandal. I can imagine the club couldn't even cover it up" the redhead assesses with a movement of the glass.
"Well, Oscar sued him for defamation, but "gross indecency" crimes are hard to defend."
"So he went to jail and it didn't even occur to you to miraculously get him out."
"It wasn't possible to make him escape like that" the blonde glances at him sideways, and Crowley glances at him sideways in return because he doesn't fully believe that.
"And what was he like?"
"Wh-What?" Aziraphale's a bit surprised by that question because he had already gotten all passionate.
"Him. What was he like?" Crowley asks again.
"I-I didn't like him that much" Aziraphale blushes. "B-But he had a sense of humor and a way of seeing the world different from mine."
Crowley furrows his brow with that again.
"In essence, I think he believed that I hadn't seen anything of the world and was like a poor man locked in my bookshop, getting to know the world through books, and that he could teach me the complicated part of the world."
The demon raises his eyebrows.
"Well, I think secretly that's what he thought of me at least in the beginning."
"Oh, yes, the charitable soul" eye roll.
Aziraphale sighs, and the demon clears his throat because shut up, Crowley, and let him speak, or we'll never get past this.
"We ended up being good friends" and because I was so jealous of the other one, I didn't get him out of jail.
"You know? You use those terms in such unrealistic ways that I'm not even sure what they mean when you say them" Crowley side-eyes him.
"We were two individuals who appreciated and respected each other" Aziraphale defines, glaring at him a bit.
"Right... okay."
"He had a rather unhappy ending" he sighs.
"Well, they always die" the demon shrugs.
"He should still be alive" the angel looks at him.
"How did he die?"
"In a seedy hotel in Paris. Shunned by everyone just for loving someone he shouldn't have," the blonde blushes a little and looks at hhis hands.
"Were you that angry?" the redhead tilts his head.
"M-Me?" he looks at him again.
"Well, to let him die alone. Seems quite ruthless even for you."
"I didn't leave him alone. I was there the day he died."
"And how was that?"
Aziraphale squirms because it was horrible.
"I'd rather avoid it but I know they care about it" Crowley continues, shrugging and looking at him.
"It's God's plan" the angel seems to be trying to convince himself.
"Yeah, yeah, fucking God's plan" the demon makes a vague gesture with his hand.
Aziraphale sighs, because that's exactly what he thought, and in the same way, he had missed Crowley even more in the last sixteen years.
"It's been a few years now, hasn't it? It should be easier by now."
"It is. Yes, it is" he smiles a little. Crowley shrugs and smiles too. "I'm glad you're not dead" the angel murmurs without looking at him.
"For the dead humans?" Crowley takes the glass and brings it closer to his.
"For the dead humans." Aziraphale glances at him and smiles a little.
Crowley clinks glasses with him and looks at the glass. Then squeezes his eyes shut before drinking from it, because he is thinking about someone.
Ugh.
"Are you going to tell me who you fell in love with?" the angel asks after a moment because he's been holding back from asking for a while now.
"W-What?" the demon hesitates, because he thought he was off the hook with this and apparently... he's not.
"It seems fair to me."
"There... there's more than one" he looks away.
"We have time" Aziraphale shrugs.
"Most of them you don't know and you're not going to like the ones you know."
"Even if I don't like" tenses up more.
"Besides, it was a LONG time ago, I hardly even remember. In fact, it wasn't even that important."
"It doesn't matter, I want to know who."
"I said there are several."
"Well, I want some names. Tell me the names of the ones I'm not going to like."
"But many of the names won't even mean anything to you. If I say Helen the waitress it won't mean anything to you.
"I don't want Helen the waitress, obviously, Crowley" rolls eyes. "I want the ones I DO know" Insert angelic look of insistence. The demon moistens his lips because he feels embarrassed.
"It's difficult, alright, and it's... you're not going to like it. I know what you want to do and you won't be able to and it's going to be frustrating and it's better if you just don't know."
"No."
"N-No?"
"No, that's not an option."
"It's been so long it doesn't even make sense anymore" the redhead takes a breath and stands up, needing to move because this topic makes him nervous.
"Yeah, well..."
"It's been more than a thousand years" he states, with his back to him. Another glance. "One thousand eight hundred and eighty-four" Crowley explains, glancing sideways.
"You even know the years exactly..." he squints.
"It's easy to do the math" he shrugs as the angel calculates in his head, one thousand nine hundred and seventeen minus one thousand eight hundred and eighty-four...
"Jesus Christ?!" Aziraphale exclaims, almost breathless. Crowley turns away, squeezing his eyes shut "... fuck."
"Um... it's... you're making this more important than it..." the demon hesitates and still ends up speechless because Aziraphale said fuck! In his presence! It was soft but he heard it! Mouth open.
"That man... ugh" he protests. Well, yes. He has eighty-three years left where he can't say fuck because of you.
"Well, there you go! Now you know. I told you you wouldn't like it" Crowley gestures vaguely and sits back on the sofa, not looking at him.
"Well... W-Well! Although you definitely weren't the only one. A very high percentage of humanity has had a similar circumstance since then."
Rolls eyes, because it does cause him conflict, especially because he's a demon.
"B-But... ugh. Alright... alright, alright. Let's just say you were easily impressed" he'll never talk about Jesus the same way again.
"Oh, come on!" Crowley protests because yes, he was, but it still sucks to admit it.
"And he wasn't just anyone" he squeezes his eyes. "Are you going to tell me an angel on top of this?"
"No. Obviously not" he blushes at the thought of HIM.
The angel stares at him, VERY intensely, thinking of... Michael or Gabriel or... Crowley glances at him for a moment and then looks away. Aziraphale fidgets and wrinkles his nose a little.
"And what was it that you liked about Jesus?"
"Ugh" Crowley protests because that entire sentence is terrible.
"Well... I didn't make it up" Aziraphale protests back because the question is legitimate.
"It sounds like you're about to give me a sermon in catechism" the demon insists, tense.
"It's just a question!" he defends.
"And yet, it sounds like the kind of conversation you'd have with someone you're trying to convert to Catholicism."
"I can't think of many more sinful sentences than "What did you like sexually about Jesus?""
"You didn't say sexually!" the demon almost chokes.
"I thought we could skip that!" the angel yells.
"This is a bad idea" he shakes his head, looking at his glass and decides to down the rest of it in one go.
"Why?" he glances at him.
"All of this is terrible. This whole story is... I shouldn't have even mentioned it" the demon insists.
"It's an interesting story and all of this doesn't solve the doubts I have."
"It was his way of thinking. And speaking" he confesses, looking at the glass in his hand, playing with the last drop of wine.
"Of course, when one is the son of God, one has certain benefits..." he grumbles.
"Ugh! No, that was the worst part!" the demon protests, looking at him.
"The "worst" part, sure... sure. He certainly had the ability to charm everyone... that's why they made him like that" Aziraphale continues, looking at Crowley, who rolls his eyes. "That was his mission and he did it very well, I'm not saying anything bad."
"Look, it wasn't... It's... Ugh, you're unbearable and I shouldn't have told you this."
"Why would I be unbearable? Although certainly, if I were the son of God you wouldn't find me unbearable" he replies, annoyed.
"Because all of this sounds bad when you ask it."
"Because it's me and you can't talk about this with me?" Aziraphale rolls his eyes. "That's what I should have said to you: "All of this sounds bad when you ask it."
"No, because you keep using your catechism voice and telling me he was the son of God when I literally detested that part."
"Well, but the fact that he was the son of God is his essence."
"That he was the son of God was his biggest damn problem" Crowley stands up again, because he needs to move and shake off the nerves.
"Probably if he wasn't the son of God you wouldn't have liked him."
"You don't know that" he glares.
"I said probably."
"And the fact that you keep assuming things makes it worse too."
"So his problem was being the son of our side. Like if I had gone through this with the... Antichrist. Okay. Yeah, yeah, I get your problem."
"You wouldn't say you liked him because he was the son of Satan" he glances at him, because okay, yeah, a little like that.
"No..." he squeezes his eyes shut "Obviously not."
"Even though he probably would have had all the potential and been made for it. Being attractive and tempting."
"Exactly. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I could partly say that Jesus succeeded in his mission EVEN with a demon."
"I can't believe this is making you admire him more."
"Um... Yes, that's it" Aziraphale looks at Crowley with a certain expression, he looks at him for a moment and then looks away because maybe he's misreading it.
Aziraphale squirms because what he's doing is being jealous of JESUS.
"It sounds like this has been good news for you, like you've won. This is what you always say. This is what you always talk about, like you've convinced me and that's not it" Crowley points out.
"Like I've won? Me? What could I" the angel pauses trying to understand, "have won with this?"
"Well, convince me about... I don't know. The supremacy of good or something like that" he makes a theatrical gesture pointing to the ceiling.
Aziraphale takes a sip of his wine.
"This happened almost two thousand years ago and the earth has continued being as it is along with humans. If this were the supremacy of good, it's excessively delayed" he protests a bit.
Crowley hesitates a bit, moistens his lips, and opens his mouth without knowing what to say.
"Probably that's because he shouldn't have died. What I mean is that none of this has to do with being the son of God" the demon summarizes.
"He was very eloquent" the angel admits. Crowley looks at him because he's still not sure what that means. "Eloquence is being able to express yourself verbally in a persuasive and convincing manner."
"A-And... yes, I know what it means" he lies, turning his face away. "Anyway, it wasn't... I mean, it wasn't just that either."
"Wasn't it?"
"It was. A bit, but not entirely" he wanders around without looking at him and picks up a stamp among Aziraphale's books, to see if the image helps him explain. "I was sent to show him the kingdoms of the earth, remember?"
"Yes" he looks at him, waiting for him to continue.
"It wasn't even that many days..." Crowley leaves the stamp and rolls his eyes at himself. "But I talked to him. At first, it didn't even bother me too much because I thought it would be like talking with you."
"Like us" Aziraphale frowns seriously at that.
"Well, it was easy to think that."
"So talking to me is unpleasant?"
"You have learned over time" Crowley smiles sideways.
Aziraphale repeats that in a high pitch voice and the rolls his eyes. "Well, finish your dissertation" he protests.
"Do you have something to do?" Crowley raises an eyebrow now with that urgency.
"Right now?" he blinks, thinking he's changing the subject.
"Seems like it..." he shrugs.
"I want to finish hearing what you liked about the lad" he furrows his brow.
"It took him less time than you to learn" he looks away.
"Learn?" once again eyes roll.
"Well, to be less obtuse." the demon explains.
"I'm surprised you know that expression" He GLARES "You were just as slow to learn."
"That's not what I've been told."
"What have you been told?"
"That it didn't take me any effort."
"To speak properly?"
"To not be obtuse."
"Well, yes, it depends on what you call your "being obtuse".
"Well, you almost fell for it. If not for the almost."
"More like for the complete opposite and you know what? He didn't think they were bad questions. He didn't have an answer, but it didn't strike him as strange that I asked them."
"Do you think I find it strange?" Aziraphale looks at him.
"Lately not so much, but back then they made you terribly uncomfortable, yes."
"Lately you don't know anything, you've been asleep for a hundred years" Aziraphale sighs.
"Until someone mentions holy water to you" Eye rollllllll
"I've made my arguments about holy water perfectly clear to you and they have nothing to do with it being holy, nor with the questions."
"Whatever you say" Crowley glares, leaning on the desk with his bum. "Anyway, you can forget about this topic forever from now on.
"And... did he like you?" he dares to ask.
"And how would I know, one doesn't ask people they like if..." Crowley protests, raising his hands because... that's why he's never asked him and look how well that turned out.
"Well, you should know!"
"Well, probably, how would I know? Anyway, at this point I don't know, pray to him and ask him. Maybe he'll actually answer that" the demon crosses his arms.
"But... did anything happen?"
"Aziraphale, are you asking me if I slept with Jesus?" he stares at him over his glasses.
"Uuuugh!"
"This must have a name" yes, it's called "Oedipus complex", but you've never read enough to know it and anyway, the term hasn't been coined yet.
"Well, this isn't my fault. You got yourself into this mess."
Crowley sighs with that because he always thought confessing was a bad idea.
"Still, it's respectable but did you do that with him or not?"
"What do you think?" he looks at him, a little longer than is comfortable.
"Th-That you didn't..."
"It all comes down to faith" he shrugs.
"No, it all comes down to reality."
"You can't know reality. You can only believe me or not. It's still a matter of faith."
"Well, so?" Aziraphale looks at him because despite season two, he feels like Crowley doesn't usually lie to him.
"Well..." Crowley nods a bit, smiling slightly.
"But then...?"
"Ehm... that."
"You didn't answer me!" the angel protests.
"Yes, I did!" he defends.
"When?!" Aziraphale blinks. "You asked me if I believed it and I said no, and you haven't told me if it was yes or no!"
"You asked me how it was and I said well!"
Aziraphale blinks slooooowly. Crowley turns around looking for something around, looking through the little things there are.
"What's wrong with you?" the ANGELIC HISTORIC SCREAM.
"M-Me?" the demon jumps, startled by the suddenness and turns back to him.
"How can you... how can you...?!" he's scandalized.
The demon takes a step back, scared. He'll swear on whatever you want that he's not, but if he were human he might pee himself out of fear right now by the look the angel gives.
Aziraphale takes two steps forward and moves his arms to cross them, frowning deeply.
Crowley backs away until he hits something on his back. One of the endless bookshelves. Cornered. You're lucky he's not climbing up whatever it is. Yet.
"What's going on in that head of yours?! How didn't you fall to a lower level of hell?! It's... this... did they at least give you a PRIZE?!" he scolds.
"Uhm... "one leg is already rising by itself.
"You're also DECEIVING me by putting on this fake circus of how serious and terrible this is!" the angel gestures dramatically with his hands.
"W-What?" he asks in a whisper, halfway hanging from the shelf. Oh. My. God.
"How dare you ask what? HOW DARE YOU ASK WHAT? YOU ABSOLUTE KNUCKLEHEAD!"
Okay, there goes the other leg up, he curls into a ball, paniked.
"YOU BIG BRUTE, FOOL!"
"B-But..."
"IDIOT!"
Truth be told, he checks if he can climb up the shelf because he's afraid the angel might start hitting him on the head with a newspaper like he's a dog. He climbs up and hisses at him from the highest shelf.
"GET DOWN FROM THERE!"
"Hiiisssss"
"CROWLEY!"
"HIIIIISSSSSS"
"COME ON, MAN!
The demon moistens his lips, squatting on the shelf and doesn't escape through the ceiling because it's you. Aziraphale pinches the bridge of his nose and sits dramatically in his armchair.
When he sees that, the redhead blinks a bit, relaxing, but still doesn't come down.
"This is absolutely..." the blonde begins now with his smooth and more controlled voice, which I don't know if it's scarier.
Crowley sits with his feet hanging, waiting to see what else he says.
"I don't want to know anything else about this" the angel decides.
"Thanks to..." Crowley stops and, don't kill him, turns to the ceiling. "Thanks."
"Get out of my bookshop" he decrees authoritatively in response to that, pointing to the door.
Eye roll but he doesn't move, Aziraphale looks at him sideways.
Crowley pats his thighs and moves his dangling feet.
The angel's stare...
"Uhm..." the demon hesitates, because, okay, maybe he should leave. Oh, look how late it's gotten all of a sudden and it looks like it's going to rain...
Aziraphale pours himself another sip of wine and rolls his eyes. Uuh, wine. That wine was good. He also wants more.
Well, behave like a grown-up and come down. The demon moistens his lips. Uh... yes, now that the angel has calmed down and didn't almost exorcise him with Captain Haddock's insults.
"Jum!" Aziraphale keeps his back very straight, sipping from the wine because he was about to perform an exorcism.
Crowley bites his lip to stop himself from telling him to take it with a bit of bread, because otherwise, it doesn't work...
Eye roll! WTF!
Because even if bread does have a phallic shape, it's not exactly the same thing. He squeezes his eyes shut with that thought.
We're not sure we want to hear the narration anymore.
"Uhm... well" Crowley prefers to hesitate rather than let his brain keep making idiotic analogies.
"I think I want to know other names."
"Really? Doesn't this seem enough to you?" Crowley points to himself, having ended up on a shelf.
"Well, absolutely nothing can be worse" Aziraphale glares.
"Uhm... right, yeah, from there, the ascent was meteoric" badum, tsss...
"There's no ascent for you anymore."
"Uhm. Well, I've had a great time, but..." the demon jumps down now and clears his throat.
"Alright" the stareeeee
"You know, uhm... Call me if you feel it and we repeat it. Or something" he hesitates again, pretending like none of this matters to him.
"Yeah, yeah... goodbye."
"Don't... dwell too much on this, okay?" the redhead looks at the door because he has to pass by him to leave and he's still a bit scared. He clears his throat again.
"Don't dwell on it" Aziraphale repeats, still in a tone of indignation.
"Well, you know..." he hesitates again.
"Mhmm? "he glares again.
"Uhm. when you think too much about it, I mean" he babbles nervously. "Don't... Don't give it more importance."
"Don't give it more importance? Are you even listening to yourself?" the angel protests.
"It's... it's been a long time since this happened and it wasn't even that big of a deal" he feels like with every new thing he says, he's digging his own grave for better or for worse.
"We'll talk. Later" the blonde decides, tired of this and of him, especially.
"Yeah, okay. Okay. It'll be for the best..." he passes by his side, quickly, looking at the floor.
Aziraphale uncrosses his leg, unsure if Crowley is going to stumble. If he does, he makes a somewhat complicated jump and manages not to fall.
"What are you doing, Crowley?"
"Leaving. Ciao, Angel!" he opens the door.
Aziraphale squeezes his eyes shut because... JESUS! And Crowley... disappears like haha the devil's soul.