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highseas-swede · 8 months

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Becoming Real

Recently Good Omens Prime Twitter account posted a BTS photo of Aziraphale and Furfur and it started the gears in my head turning, trying to parse it. It's only just now that it finally coalesced into a proper thought.

I kept thinking Aziraphale reminded me of something, especially when compared to the other angels. Look at him next to pre-Jim Gabriel, Uriel, Michael... heck, even Furfur, who he's standing next to right now.

Furfur is a demon, but his outfit is impeccable, it's sleek and stylish. The angel's suits in heaven are all pressed and flawless and New.

But not Aziraphale. He's dressed in old human clothes, his waistcoat is worn and tattered and long-loved. Aziraphale is, as Michael put it, like an old sofa. Worn and comfortable. He could choose to look basically however he wants, but instead he chooses to clothe himself in actual human clothes, to eat human food, to enjoy human entertainment - books, music, plays, etc. He does this despite the fact that it actively makes the other angels dislike him and find him unpalatable.

And that's what stuck out to me. Because unlike those other angels and demons, Aziraphale doesn't feel distant from humanity. He might be odd or eccentric to humans, but they don't question his humanity. He doesn't stand out to them in the way that the other angels do when they show up.

It occurred to me that this is because unlike the other angels... Aziraphale is Real.

Have you ever read The Velveteen Rabbit? There's a scene in it where they talk about what it means to be Real:

This made me think of Aziraphale. About how the other angels are these pristine things, kept aloof from the world, and then there's Aziraphale, who is worn and shabby, who's lived on earth for millennia among the humans. He's loved and learned and experienced what being human is like and because of that he's Real in a way that the other angels aren't. Humans have personhood, a sense of agency, a sense of self. Angels and demons have only the divine plan, as Beelzebub and Gabriel noted, that's all they live for "if you can call it living".

But what strikes me the most is how potentially devastating Aziraphale's Realness will be to Heaven. They only succeed at keeping angels in line because they're undistracted from the Great Plan. We see how Gabriel - as Jim - takes to cocoa after trying it. We see how quickly Muriel becomes fascinated with books.

Now consider that this is the angel they're putting in charge of Heaven. This worn, shabby, old sofa of an angel who has an endless well of love, for Crowley, for the world and the humans in it. He doesn't seem dangerous in the slightest. He seems Fragile.

But he is dangerous. So very dangerous.

But it's not because he's a guardian, not because he's a warrior, not because he's the Angel of the Eastern Gate who leads a battalion and was issued a flaming sword. He gave all of that away and it's worth noting that this is the first actual choice we see him make in the show, the thing that sets him apart in Crowley's eyes, and it wasn't even Crowley's doing! Aziraphale made a choice to give the mortals his sword out of compassion and it is a sense of compassion we don't see from the other angels.

His deviations all stem from that initial act. It takes him from being this two-dimensional cardboard entity existing only as part of the Divine Plan and set him on the path to actual Personhood.

It doesn't happen right away, of course, because as the Skin Horse says:

"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But those things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

And doesn't that sum up Aziraphale? He's shabby and worn and he's beautiful to the people who understand and appreciate that being Real means being imperfect, and that every imperfection is still beautiful.

No wonder the angels mock his corporation, his flaws, all the things he enjoys that make him less than what they think he should be. We see evidence over and over that Aziraphale is essentially "ugly" to them. But that's because they don't understand.

Aziraphale's Realness, his personhood, what Crowley has helped nurture from the Wall of Eden all the way to that last desperate kiss, is what really matters. Good Omens has always been about People being fundamentally People. It's the underlying current that ties everything together, for good or for ill. People have agency. People have self-actualization. People have the ability to make their own choices, for good or for evil.

And now Aziraphale has that too.

That's the very real danger he presents to heaven.

Because we've already seen that any angel, given sufficient time and interaction with humans could be like Aziraphale. All it takes is one small opening, one bite from the apple. Whether deliberately or not, Crowley tempted Aziraphale into every step, the way he tempted Eve in the garden. He gave Aziraphale the knowledge of Right and Wrong, presented him with the option, the way he did with humanity. Were they even really human before Crowley? Did he give them free will? His actions cast them out of paradise, but did it ultimately set them free? Has he struggled for millennia to do the same for the angel he's loved so well and for so long?

Does Crowley know how horribly, wonderfully well he succeeded?

Bringing Aziraphale back to Heaven, putting him in charge, was the absolute worst thing the Metatron could have done for keeping the status quo and it's not because of Aziraphale's fighting prowess. It's because of the small Human acts of kindness and pettiness that Aziraphale is capable of. That's not going to go away when he's in Heaven. It's going to spread. He's going to infect Heaven with Humanity. It's going to be so slow and gradual that they won't see it coming until it's far too late.

It's not going to be the way that Aziraphale intends to change Heaven and yet, it will surely ultimately be what really makes a difference.

I wonder too, if maybe that's some subconscious part of it. After seeing Gabriel change, seeing Muriel change, I wonder if there's not some part of Aziraphale that realizes that Heaven is a miserable place that makes miserable people. He'll extend compassion to them that they don't deserve and don't know they're missing and he'll surely go on with whatever his own Plan - with a capital P, of course - is and he won't even realize what he's actually done.

And then, like the ending of S1, like the ending of S2, the ultimate deciding factor will not be who is the best warrior, who is the strongest. It will be about the Human element.

Metatron thought he could control Aziraphale, bring him in line by bringing him back to Heaven. He wants to take away the human element of Aziraphale and shove him back into that Obedient Little Angel shaped mold and he doesn't realize it's not possible anymore. Aziraphale's grown. He'll never fit, he'll never be that again. There is no going back anymore.

As the Skin Horse says: "Once you are Real, you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

And Real things, things with depth and purpose and will, are impossible to ever truly control.

#Good Omens #Aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens s2 #crowley #crowley x arizaphale #Analysis #the velveteen rabbit #what it means to be Real

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halemerry · 10 months

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I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!

I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.

Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.

Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.

Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.

He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.

Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.

Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.

Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.

We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.

The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.

Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.

Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.

Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.

At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.

Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.

It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.

Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'

Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.

"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.

Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.

Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.

Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.

Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.

The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.

His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.

Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.

Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.

Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.

The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.

He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.

Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.

For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).

The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.

The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.

As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.

So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.

There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.

#good omens #gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #kind of #is it meta if its mostly me pointing and yelling?#come suffer with me #you have no idea how many times i had to watch these sequences for this #crowley #aziraphale #the bookshop

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phoen1xr0se · 3 months

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No Nightingales (a Clue!)

Um.

I don't know why it took me THIS LONG to remember that this line is from Romeo & Juliet.

ROMEO: It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Can I please just draw your attention to the last line, please?

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Romeo is telling Juliet that he has to leave now before he is discovered and they are forced apart/he is killed.

Hmm, sounds suspicious to me...

They've been talking in coded messages since... well, always. No nightingales means Crowley is trying to tell Aziraphale that has to go, he's trying to tell him that it's dangerous - but what's promising about this is that if he's speaking in code, Crowley knows they're being watched.

I still can't say for sure what's going on at the end of the Final Fifteen, but I do believe this is a Clue.

#good omens meta #good omens thoughts #crowley #no nightingales #romeo and juliet #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fandom #neil gaiman #shakespeare #ineffable divorce #final fifteen

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esthermitchell-author · 8 months

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I know I'm likely to get some backlash over this... But please just hear me out, first.

I don't believe, for even a second, that Crowley needs a protector. He doesn't need Azi to fight his battles for him, or be his guardian, or anything like that. Maybe the angel he once was might have. But, as Crowley has said more than once, that angel isn't him. That angel is dead, gone, buried. He wants no part of whoever they were.

Crowley the demon can fight his own battles just fine. In fact, in becoming a demon, he has -- by odd twist -- BECOME the protector. As Azi states so clearly, nothing makes Crowley happier than getting to rescue his angel -- getting to be the hero appeals to Crowley on a very deep level. I believe it is what fuels his inner goodness, reminds him he's not JUST the outer shell the world sees, either.

What Crowley NEEDS is a HEALER. Crowley is deeply, fundamentally broken. (Please don't throw things at me. I'm not suggesting he needs fixed in any way. That's NOT what I mean by "broken.") He's been stepped on, cast out, mangled and mistreated in so many ways, by so many people, his soul is a fractured mess of PTSD, pain, and a deep-seated fear of trusting anyone, or making himself even the slightest bit vulnerable. He covers these over with a great deal of sarcasm, snark, and general feigned boredom with whatever situation is currently triggering him in horrible ways.

Crowley is like a combination of grizzled old warrior and beaten dog. He's jumping at shadows, at every possible threat or loud noise, even before S2. By S2 he's slid into a state of hyper-vigilance that's the other side of the universe from healthy (I know... I live there. I can recognize the signs at a glance).

What he needs is a healing touch. Gentleness. A loving touch that tells him it's okay to be broken, that he'll heal with time, and he's good enough just the way he is, right now. He needs someone with that softness. He needs love, and belonging, and to know that it's okay to put down the load when it gets heavy -- the world won't fall apart if he takes a moment to breathe and actually enjoy something.

I firmly believe all of that is Aziraphale. Azi's a healer to his core. I know everyone keeps going on about swords and warriors and protectors, and I'm not doubting Azi's capable of standing on his own two feet and of protecting others. But that's not what Crowley needs. He needs Azi's softness. His healing touch. His gentle words and calm voice. He needs Azi to say "You belong right here, with me, just as you are." I think we'll see that, before it's all over. Azi can't help but be soft and gentle with Crowley. He just needs to get out of his own way, and show Crowley everything he's holding back.

#good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #crowley

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averageanonymous · 4 months

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Summary: Something happened in 1941 in Aziraphale's bookshop. Something they blame on alcohol and adrenaline. Something they make an unspoken agreement to never talk about again.

Note: This isn't smut 😅 Just a little baby spice.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

It's dark, and it's late, and they're both a little drunk and shot through with adrenaline.

Well, what can you expect after an evening that started with blowing Nazis to Hell, swung round to performing a lethal magic trick in a crowded theater without a single miraculous intervention, and culminated in the closest call they've yet had with their... whatever this thing between them is.

So, yeah, you could say they've had a night. So if he makes a mistake, well, it's not like that's such a surprise, is it?

At least, that's what Crowley tells himself...

When he wanders after Aziraphale (who said something about tracking down a book with some really fascinating passages regarding blah blah blah... Crowley had, admittedly, lost track of what the angel was saying, too distracted by the way the candlelight caught in his hair and the way his lips smiled around the words he spoke) into the dark shelves at the back of the store...

When he realizes, standing behind Aziraphale as he searches a shelf, that his heart is inexplicably racing in his chest...

When Aziraphale turns around abruptly with an exclamation of triumph and a book in hand, and Crowley doesn't step back, doesn't move away, even though that puts them barely a foot apart...

When he takes the book, his fingers brushing against the angel's, sending a shock up his arm, and places it back down on the shelf...

When he leans in, so close now to his angel that their breath is caught between them, the heat rising from Aziraphale’s skin warming his own. The only thing between their lips is a question.

Crowley waits.

He holds his breath.

And for a moment, just a moment, reality beckons to him.

Then Aziraphale’s lips touch his own, and anything remotely resembling reality or consequences or a single moment beyond this one, single, solitary moment, is lost to him.

He takes Aziraphale’s face in his hands, runs his fingers up into his hair, soft against his skin. Crowley presses into Aziraphale until the angel's back is against the shelf. Then presses closer until there's no space between them at all. Aziraphale tastes like wine and starlight, and Crowley thinks that if ecstasy tastes like anything, it tastes like Aziraphale’s kiss.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gasps between one breath and the next. His voice is rough. Crowley wishes he would say his name again, again and again, the sound of it like music, like a prayer. Crowley presses his forehead to Aziraphale’s, breathing hard.

Aziraphale puts a hand on his chest.

Then... then something changes.

"Crowley, we can't... I can't..." Aziraphale’s voice is soft, but urgent, desperate. Crowley looks up at the sudden change. Their gazes lock, blue on gold. Aziraphale’s eyes, reflecting candlelight and shadow, run through a dozen emotions, each on display for only a heartbeat.

"I- I need..." he starts, stops. Then, one emotion rises to the top. Aziraphale glances towards the shuttered windows and then back to Crowley. All at once, he looks afraid.

"Angel-" Crowley tries, running a thumb soothingly over his cheek, thinking to reassure him, but Aziraphale shakes his head once, firmly.

"They almost caught you tonight," Aziraphale’s voice is tight, "Because you were helping me with a magic act, of all the frivolous things." He closes his eyes, his brow knitting like he's in pain. "If they found out-" His voice cuts off abruptly as though he physically can't follow the thought through. He presses his hand more firmly against Crowley's chest. Pushes him away.

"I need you to go," Aziraphale says.

Crowley hesitates, then steps back. "Sure," he finally agrees, though his heart feels like it's just been torn straight from his chest, "Right then... I'll just show myself out."

Aziraphale nods. The space between them, nonexistent moments ago, now yawns like a chasm.

So Crowley turns. Heads back to the more well-lit front of the shop. He grabs his coat and glasses. And he tells himself that it was just the alcohol. Just the adrenaline. Just a mistake.

He leaves the shop.

He walks away.

He tries to forget.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Thanks for reading! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for 1941 Part III in S3 🤞

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #fanfic #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfiction #what happened in 1941 #crowley x aziraphale

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thesherrinfordfacility · 6 months

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took me a while to sound out why the final fifteen felt so isolated from all the other arguments that they've had before, but "they aren't talking" might have led me to arrive at why that is. because whilst we have the "so did i" and bandstand arguments to compare it to, the closest that the final fifteen mirrors, for me, is their very first one that we see on screen; the holy water incident (and I'm 100% sure others have observed this but im slow)

the incident where crowley has experienced something that he's playing down to aziraphale, asks aziraphale for something to help him that only aziraphale can give to him, it turns out to be too much to ask of aziraphale, so he refuses, and they split apart. turn all of this around on its head, and you have the final fifteen. (and im going to put the caveat here: no, i do not think aziraphale has been threatened by the metatron and is communicating this in code to crowley, but yes i do think he feels threatened by the metatron; i think he's genuinely eager to take this opportunity, but equally he's not stupid).

so then they go through 79 years of silence, of not talking, and come to 1941, where aziraphale lands himself in a spot of bother, and crowley breaks their silence by coming to the rescue. they get through the church fiasco, and aziraphale enlists crowley's help in the bullet catch ("trust me"), without ever discussing the holy water - all the while, their affection and love for each other is broiling just beneath the surface. perhaps it stands to reason that the same will happen in s3; that crowley will find himself in a Situation, aziraphale turns up to get him out of it - using it as an Excuse - and they end up on the subject of the second coming etc., and crowley reluctantly agrees to help resolve it, but only with the unspoken provision that they, absolutely, do not discuss what happened in the bookshop.

but what about the missing scene of 1941? well, there have been hundreds of different speculations of what could have happened; they actually do discuss the holy water, or there's otherwise a bit of a vulnerable heart-to-heart, there's a kiss, there's an almost-kiss, there's a fight involving the zombies, the derringer comes out to play, crowley gets yanked back to hell again, or gets discorporated... but whatever happens evidently informs on the atmosphere attributable in 1967 - because it's not until 1967 that aziraphale considers his hand forced, cares so much for crowley that he'll do the very thing that he's previously refused to do - gives crowley the holy water - but then puts distance between them again. perhaps the same kinda of thing happens somewhere around ep3/4 of s3; that they finally get to a point where what happened - the kiss, the offer, the mutual rejection - can't be ignored any longer, and a full-bore-full-roar argument erupts at perhaps the most inopportune time, to the point it's just comical, leading them to the point where they finally both understand where they stand with each other, what the other meant, and wanted.

so look, im not saying that crowley is suddenly going to change his mind about going to heaven, in order to track with aziraphale's 180° on the holy water; that doesn't make much sense. and it similarly doesn't make much sense for them to create distance between them like they seem to have done in 1967. if anything, this time it's the impetus they need to get everything out and laid bare, nothing bitten back, nothing squashed down and restrained. "you go too fast for me" suddenly becomes "we're finally on the same page."

#i doubt this is a revelation to anyone else but me #good omens #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #flashback meta #1941 spec #s3 narrative spec

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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Crowley stops with one hand pressed against the door, held back by a nauseating pull in his stomach.

"Do you-" he hesitates, refusing to turn around, and yet there is nothing he wants to do more than retrace his steps and keep trying.

"Do you want that angel back?"

Behind his shades, the world grows blurry with uncried tears he refuses to allow to fall, and his breaths tremble slightly, seeking a familiar smell, taste, the touch of lips against his. He doesn't know why he asks now, the question has been stuck in his head since Eden and turned into a cruel whisper after Job. Centuries of silence and swallowed words, but he opened the gates, and the unasked question is spilling out of his throat without much control.

"I- what?"

Aziraphale sounds breathless, tears clogging his voice, and he hates that he knows he is crying, hates that he is the one who caused it, hates that he is almost crying too.

He still doesn't turn around.

"The angel I was. Is that who you—who you want?" Bitter and angry, and somehow softer than everything he has said so far. "Do you think you will get him back if I return to heaven?"

"Crowley-"

"Answer the question."

Wet heat traces a path down his cheek, and Crowley lifts his hand from the door to catch them before they drip from his jaw. The tears sting in his eyes and on his skin, and he wonders if they would taste like blood or him.

"No. I don't- Crowley, I want you to come with me. I want you to come with me and-- and be with me. Be happy."

There is no heat behind Aziraphale's words, no desperation, only weak resignation and the sound of sadness on his tongue; the fractures running through them are mirrors of each other, sharp beneath his fingertips. Crowley wants to hold onto his fizzling anger, but it's trickling through his fingers like sand, turning to dust before it even hits the ground.

"They don't want me there. I don't want me there. I want-"

you.

It's always been you.

He can't turn around, not because he doesn't want to (God, does he want to), but he knew how this was going to end the second Aziraphale mentioned the offer. Crowley knows him, knows himself, and heaven would rip him apart in ways he knows he would never be able to fix.

It's them or it's himself, and for the very first time in six thousand years, Crowley chooses himself, and he hates himself for it more than ever before.

Behind him, Aziraphale takes a careful step towards him, then another. Crowley's hand returns to the door, a warning.

Let me leave, please. If you ask me to be with you again, I'll stay; you know I will.

"I'll be waiting, angel."

He savours the taste of it on his tongue, melts it until it mixes with the taste of him, their kiss, and for a second, the world stands still.

Before either of them can say another word, before he can turn around, before Aziraphale's hand can land on his shoulder, Crowley pushes the door open and allows the world to keep turning; he steps outside, and it swallows him whole.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #come children it's time for your daily aziracrow angst served hot by yours truly

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doodlejoops · 10 months

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"I Forgive You."

Ok I got the beginnings of some thoughts here. The early beginnings. Like, just a sniff of 'em. I've half-jokingly said that Aziraphale's "I forgive you," might have unintentionally given Crowley some protection from Heaven, and I rewatched the final scene today with the mindset that he did it on purpose and I HAVE THOUGHTS. The Metatron said that if Aziraphale wanted to work with Crowley again, that "might be considered irregular." He may have meant if Aziraphale came back to Heaven. To me though, this sounds like the Metatron is making it clear that Heaven does not approve of and will not allow Aziraphale to work with Crowley again, regardless of whether or not he returns to Heaven. You could even read this as a threat. Stay on earth with Crowley, and we will put a stop to it. Come to Heaven and bring him with you, and we'll make him an angel. After all, Heaven is not stupid enough to have missed the fact that if there is one being left on earth that could put a stop to the Second Coming it's the maybe-definitely-ex-archangel Crowley, right? He's got to be assimilated or destroyed. I rewatched the confession this time around imagining that Aziraphale knew that Crowley was in danger. If he brought Crowley to Heaven, even though he knew he didn't want to be there, he would be safe. He was desperate for Crowley to accept this offer. But Crowley didn't, and then he confessed, and Aziraphale keeps looking over at that damn window knowing that the Metatron is watching. Aziraphale knows that, should they remain on earth, Heaven would likely kill them both. But as Supreme Archangel, he has the power to protect Crowley, even if that means they have to be apart. Aziraphale's hurt is genuine, he hadn't expected the kiss, and it made everything that much harder for the both of them, and he might not have meant for the words to come out as they did. But maybe the Forgiveness of the Supreme Archangel stands for a little something. I'm not saying that Crowley has been reinstated as an angel against his will or anything. But I still can't help but wonder if he now has some sort of divine protection. He wouldn't come to Heaven, but Aziraphale can at least protect him on earth. I DUNNO. I told you it was just a sniff. But I think about the importance of this line a lot.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #good omens theory #i forgive you #that one line ruining my LIFE

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lineffability · 8 months

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Kiss Roulette: 25. A kiss that's an accident <3

—but you poor dear, how much work you burden yourself with from a sense of guilt; I see you bent over your work, your neck bared, I'm standing behind you, but you don't know it—please don't be frightened if you feel my lips on the back of your neck, I didn't mean to kiss it, it's only love which can't be helped . . .

Franz Kafka · July 31, 1920, Letters to Milena (1952)

-;-;-;-

"It- it was an accident?"

"An accident? Crowley, dear, you-" Aziraphale wrung his hands, his face as red as Crowley's hair - as Crowley's face, too. They stood awkwardly, like startled deer, Crowley leaning backwards, Aziraphale tall as a statue risen from his desk chair. "You kissed me."

"Only on the neck," Crowley protested weakly, regretting the words immediately: they were an admission. Because of course Aziraphale was right - he had kissed him.

The thing was, both of them had only realized this after the kiss had been placed and left there, forlornly, while Crowley had drawn back in shock and bared his guilty, rogue lips.

Slowly, Crowley had blinked. Slowly, Aziraphale had turned his head.

Frantically, they had jolted into action - and frozen in it.

He had kissed him.

On that soft neck, the nape of it, where cloudy tufts of hair gave way to soft skin, and a little scrub, too, harder hair which had pressed against his lips, which had touched the angel ever so reverently.

Why had he done that?

Aziraphale had been deep in thought, concentrated on his work, but that was not it: he had looked guilty, repentant, with his head bowed so low and his tea not even touched, even though Crowley had taken care to keep it warm for him.

Aziraphale had not apologized for leaving. Crowley had not apologized for staying behind.

But here they were now, back together, feeling both wrong and so very right, and it was different.

Aziraphale showed his repentance even if he didn't voice it, choosing instead to throw himself into the task of averting the Second Coming. Crowley showed his regret even if he didn't voice it, staying close wordlessly, never leaving his side, ready to protect them both if need be.

But that's not the thing that was different - they'd drawn apart and then close again more times than humans could count, ever so hopeful about their inevitable togetherness. Even if this time had hurt more than ever before.

It had hurt more than ever before because it was different, afterwards.

Feelings had been voiced - lips touched - bodies shaken.

And then they had been thrown back together, and it had happened again. Just once more. Lips touched. The bodies shook differently, the second time, a soft trembling that gave way to tears no longer held back. Softer, gentler. They hadn't voiced any feelings that time, but they had kissed them.

And then they were back together: a team.

But they still hadn't spoken about it. Not the first kiss, not the second.

And now the third? Did it count? Crowley wanted to evaporate into a drain.

He'd just wanted to alleviate the pain, to take a little weight off the heavy, heavenly head. Aziraphale's skin tasted of ambrosia. Still of Heaven, not of him. Still an Archangel.

Never all his.

But Aziraphale smiled. There, before him, after he had thoughtlessly kissed his neck, Aziraphale was smiling at him through his embarrassment, and his wringing hands stilled as he took a step and placed them on Crowley's arms. His gaze was open, almost curious.

"Why did you do that?"

Crowley squirmed. "Don't- c'mon, do I have to- why?" He took a breath. "You know why."

"I do?"

"You do."

Aziraphale nodded slowly, once, a small smile still on his lips. He didn't press on. Instead, he moved his hands along Crowley's arms, upwards. They came to a rest on the nape of his neck.

"Will you do it again? In... in the future?"

"In the future?" Crowley's voice came out a little thin. Future sounds good. The future of the world we will save. Our future.

Aziraphale assented. "On the neck."

"Y- y..."

"Like this." Carefully, Aziraphale leaned forward, into him, and ghosted his lips across the nape of Crowley's neck. He heard him inhale.

Their lips hadn't even touched, this time, but Crowley trembled. Shook. Needed to voice it.

"I will. I will do it again."

"Good."

Aziraphale pulled back. He exhaled, shakily.

"I kissed you," Crowley admitted at last, if a little unnecessarily, and lifted his shoulders helplessly. "I didn't mean to, but it... it can't be helped. It's only..."

"Love?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that."

They kissed again, then: lips on lips, gently, contently, as if the world wasn't ending. Briefly, Crowley wondered if it counted as their third or fourth kiss, but decided it didn't really matter. He was feeling optimistic: he hoped he would lose count soon enough.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #my writing #inefficable #good omens fanfiction #my drabbles #for you fable my love #i couldn't help it #was scrolling tumblr in the passenger seat and came across this quote and remembered this aak

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foolishlovers · 5 months

Note

hii could i request some of your favoruite human au fics? nothing specific :))

ahhh always!! i have so many!! 💜

Postcards From Paris by ghostrat (12k, G) Crowley has just moved into his Mayfair apartment and finds a postcard addressed to the previous tenant. With no return address, he's left to collect and read the mysterious A.Z.F.'s adventures across Europe, where he hunts for bizarre bibles and rates ridiculously expensive wine in his free time. The question is: How will A.Z.F. react when Crowley finally gets his return address and writes back? --- It was different, he knew, to accidentally read someone else’s postcard versus intentionally perusing one in place of good newspaper over coffee. Crowley decided he was allowed that indecency, to balance out the good deed of safeguarding the mail in the first place. He kicked his feet up onto his desk, scooped up the takeaway coffee that was brought around by their newest intern, and settled in to read some of the most densely crowded handwriting he’d ever laid eyes on.

London, Libraries & Love by wolftea (13k, E, WIP) Smiling warmly at the huddles of students, Aziraphale made his way over to Crowley, who was leaning against his desk. Crowley was dressed in layers of all black (as per usual), his red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail (not as usual, he often wore it down) and he was twirling Aziraphale’s fountain pen between his fingers. “Mister Fell.” Crowley drawled, but the warmth in his amber eyes and the upward curve of his mouth betrayed any attempt at appearing nonchalant. Aziraphale found himself grinning. How on Earth had he ever disliked this man? “Crowley.” He said, eyes crinkling as he plucked the pen out of Crowley’s hands and put it back by his notebook.

New Approaches by FeralTuxedo (19k, M) Aziraphale Fell, Professor of Creative Writing at Tadfield University, welcomes the attendees of the First Conference on New Approaches to Genre Fiction. Among them is keynote speaker and best-selling thriller author Anthony J. Crowley. Aziraphale has not seen him for twenty-five years. Sometimes, he can still feel the ghost of their parting kiss on his lips. Or: Exes reunite at academic conference. A Human University Professor/Author AU.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (27k, T) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (41k, M) Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers. Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye. A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

Fledging by FeralTuxedo (53k, M) Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy. Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him. A human AU/kid fic.

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (70k, E) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

South Downs by summerofspock (76k, E) Blackballed from the industry ten years ago, Anthony Crowley jumps at the chance to star in a new Regency romance miniseries with well-known gay actor Aziraphale Fell in the hopes that it will help him restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley has played all sorts of characters and for the life of him, he can't figure out why he's struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

Or Be Nice by charlottemadison (151k, E) Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbours. And…it does not go at all well, until it does. A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way. +++ “So what’s your deal?” “My-my-my deal?” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m a bookseller, is my deal.” “Oh,” Crowley replied, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound. “It’s just, I couldn’t help overhearing, and --” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You really are an accomplished musician. But I thought -- for after 11PM -- perhaps we could reach some arrangement?” “Arrangement?” Aziraphale felt his his smile turning forced. “Such as, perhaps, playing the drums before eleven? Instead of after?” Crowley stared blankly at him. In fact he stared for so long that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he'd lapsed into ancient Greek again, which he was known to do in bad dreams or during panic attacks.

#i could probably make another 20 parts but!!#i wanna gush about all these individually ngl sjsjsj #anon #answered #good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic #good omens human au #aziracrow #aziracrow fic #foolish recs

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aziraphales-library · 3 months

Note

Hello, thank you for the work you put into this blog. It might be a bit early, but are there any S2 fix-it recs yet?

Hi! We have a plentiful #fix-it tag now! Here are some more to add...

you're the victim of your crime by JustNerdyThings (T)

It's a simple decision, really. It's simple in the way things rarely are, in that it's not much of a decision at all. Whatever Aziraphale might stand to gain by staying in Heaven, it cannot possibly compare to what he's already lost down on Earth. So Aziraphale leaves. He miracles up his letter of resignation, pretends to clear out his still-empty desk, and leaves. And he hopes against hope that somehow, someday, Crowley might forgive him.

hungry work by CCs_World (E)

“You must understand,” Aziraphale had whispered. He was on the doorstep of the bookshop, months after his departure, looking in at Crowley — disheveled, both of them. Broken, both of them. Afraid, both of them. Hopeful, both of them. “I understand, Aziraphale,” Crowley had said back. They had stretched out a hand to Aziraphale. “Come on. Let’s think of a plan together.” And they had. Somehow, miraculously, ineffably, a second apocalypse had been averted. Heaven and Hell were cut off. They were free — truly free. And they had all the time in the universe. So, naturally, they left London. OR: After the Second Coming does not Come, Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs. However, living together is difficult when there are over 6000 years of tension between them - tension which must be resolved if they are to have their happily ever after.

Trembling with tenderness by HolRose (T)

When the former demon Crowley is surprised in his Mayfair flat by a visit from his erstwhile boss and their ex-Archangel partner asking for assistance, Crowley has that familiar sinking feeling that something he did in the past has come back to bite him on the arse. When the current Supreme Archangel materialises in his flat shortly afterwards, Crowley knows the time has come for them to really talk at last. Just as soon as they’ve got rid of their visitors, that is. A post Season 2 fix-it fic in which they communicate properly, and Aziraphale demonstrates just how crafty, and also loving, he can be. This is one for those who might like something genuinely soft and romantic after the ending to Season 2.

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth by arabellas_court (E)

Aziraphale unfolded the piece of paper slowly beneath the horrid lighting. He cleared his throat and looked around, the corners of his mouth faltering just a second when he landed on Crowley. He looked down at the paper. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth—” “Jesus Christ,” Crowley grumbled. “No, dear, he came later, remember?” ------ Crowley knows his worth. He can't take Aziraphale back immediately after how hurt he's been. And for once, Aziraphale has to work for that forgiveness. Both of them are a mess. Both of them go to therapy—unexpectedly, together. Angst with a happy ending.

Snogging on Heaven's Door by Tetrisbiene (M)

What if Aziraphale actually said, 'Do it again. Please. Right now!'? A Post-Season 2 Fanfic. Aziraphale has to go to Heaven to thwart the Second Coming, and Crowley just can't let him go alone. Follow the pair as they meet old and new faces, go to heavenly meetings, sow mischief, and tempt some angels to fall in love with humanity. May the two find a flat surface to talk things over with each other before this big promotion can tear them apart. This is the story of our ineffable idiots in a roller coaster ride of emotions, heavenly bureaucracy, and stolen kisses against doors. Have some angst, some stupid puns in the chapter titles, and an elevator ride that's basically an excuse for me to write a cheesy alternative ending to help me get over the actual finale.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you by sunrisesinthesuburbs (T)

Aziraphale stares back at the Metatron with renewed optimism. “I know where my loyalty stands, Sir,” he starts, even managing a small smile. “And I do not need to prove myself to them. When the Time comes, they will enjoy what I’ve been working on.” He sounds convincing, really. Honest, reliable and responsible. Crowley decides this is a good time to whistle: “Someone’s getting all professional up here.” Aziraphale dares to peep in his direction, hoping to convey with one brief look everything he is thinking about: ‘Shut up, will you? I’m trying to do something here.’ Crowley smirks, of course. He really is so annoying. “Well, Aziraphale, you may not need to prove yourself to them,” the Metatron reaches for something inside his jacket, “but you need to prove yourself to me.” Aziraphale fails Heaven's test (of course), and now he has to fix an even bigger mess. Throw a messy break up and a Second Coming in the mix and, somehow, you get a getaway car and a cottage in the South Downs. A lot can happen in a day. (Post Season 2; my very own attempt at fixing things.)

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fix-it #mod d

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groovynightstrawberry · 3 months

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Against All Odds

Rating: E

Word Count: 41,862

CW/TW: References to past domestic violence and child abuse

Summary: Human AU.

Az is eleven, and his world is falling apart. His best friend is walking away from him, and Az can't find a way to make him stay.

Thirty-five years later, there's a familiar face at Aziraphale's new job, and it threatens to break his heart all over again. Can they do it better this time?

Excerpt:

“I assure you, I’m quite capable of keeping my work relationships professional,” Aziraphale told her.

“See that you do,” Michael said. “Right, so, we have the sales team over here. Bee’s the manager, but they’re off today. We have Hastur, Ligur, Shax, Furfur, Dagon the supervisor,” she pointed them all out with hardly a pause, completely failing to tell them his name. Aziraphale rather suspected she hadn’t bothered to learn how to pronounce it. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

“And here we have the top man, star salesperson of the year, Crowley,” Michael continued. “Or we do, when he bothers to show up.” They’d stopped by a painfully neat desk. Unlike the rest of the sales department, which was a riot of photos and fidget toys, this desk only held a single potted plant.

“I’m under here!” said a voice. From under the desk, Aziraphale realised, spotting the bottom of a pair of shoes. “Idiot cleaner pulled out all the cables again...” The owner of the voice shuffled out, backwards. Remembering his remark only minutes before, Aziraphale very pointedly didn’t watch as the man in exceedingly tight jeans emerged.

“Got another newbie, Michael?” the man asked. He picked up a pair of sunglasses from the desk before turning around. Aziraphale froze. The red hair, those golden brown eyes... The eyes disappeared behind the sunglasses before he could more than glimpse them, but one glance was enough.

Anthony. His mouth formed the name, but no sound came out. Thirty-five years disappeared in a flash, and Aziraphale was standing in a churchyard, watching his best friend walk away.

Read the rest on AO3

#good omens #crowley x aziraphale #good omens fic

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phoen1xr0se · 9 months

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Good Omens S2E6 - Aziraphale's perspective

Taken from my fanfic 'Don't Fall Away From Me', on AO3 (link below). Apologies for any broken hearts in advance, but I hope it fixes some too. Most of the dialogue is taken from GOS2E6 but everything else is all me.

Artist credit: @mistysblueboxstuff

Aziraphale

Forty-one days earlier.

"Go on. The day can't get any weirder."

Aziraphale swallowed, turning to exit the bookshop, coffee in hand. The last thing he wanted right now was to leave Crowley's side and the sanctity of their little world - he knew that the significance of what they had just witnessed between Gabriel and Beelzebub would not be lost on the demon, and he desperately wanted to talk about it with him. When Aziraphale had intuitively reached for him, he was sure he had seen Crowley give a small nod, as if to say, "I know, angel."

The thought that he might finally give a voice to what they had been dancing around for years made him feel as though he was in a freefall - Aziraphale took a long swig from the sweet almond coffee to try and ground himself and glanced back at the Metatron.

"Sit, sit, dear boy," said Metatron, gesturing to a small table and chairs.

Aziraphale sat, hands fluttering anxiously. He put them back on the coffee to stop himself and took another sip.

"Now, I shall get right to the point. It seems we are down an Archangel." The Metatron smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Do you have any thoughts on who might be best suited to replace them?"

Aziraphale paused. Why was the Metatron asking him for advice? "Well... Michael?"

"Oh, don't be silly! No, no, no, no, no. There's only one candidate who makes even the slightest bit of sense."

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"And that's you."

Aziraphale blinked. Had he heard that correctly? "Me?"

"Well, yes. You're a leader, you're honest, you don't just tell people what they want to hear. It's why Gabriel came to you in the first place, I imagine."

Aziraphale's mouth dropped open in astonishment, struggling for words. He had always believed that those qualities had contributed to his exile from Heaven, and yet the Metatron was telling him that these were reasons he should be... promoted? In charge? Surely there was no way that this offer could be genuine.

The Metatron continued, before Aziraphale had a chance to pick that thread apart. "There are huge plans afoot, enormous projects, and I will need you to run them."

Aziraphale paused. In a flash, he remembered what Crowley had said four years previously about The Big One. Us against humanity. Left in the hands of Michael, or Uriel, or any of those bad angels, he could only begin to imagine what would befall Earth. Humanity wouldn't stand a chance. The angels didn't understand anything about what it truly meant to be human... or even what it meant to be good.

"You are just the angel for the job." The Metatron smiled, and in spite of himself, Aziraphale thought that he was probably right about that.

But no... he couldn't leave Earth. His bookshop. Crowley. This peaceful, fragile existence. "But I... I don't want to go back to Heaven. W-where would I get my coffee?"

The Metatron's eyes grew steelier and Aziraphale realised that he understood that this wasn't about coffee. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. How much did he know?

"You know..." Metatron phrased the words very carefully, "as Supreme Archangel, you would be able to decide who to work with. I've been looking back over a number of your previous exploits..." Aziraphale swallowed nervously, "and I see that in quite a few of them you formed a de facto partnership with the demon, Crowley."

The name hung in the air between them. Aziraphale glanced away. Apparently he knew quite a lot.

"Now, if you wanted to work with him again, that... might be considered irregular, but it would certainly be within your jurisdiction to restore your friend Crowley to full angelic status."

The impact of the statement took a while to register. Aziraphale blinked. In his mind's eye, he flashed back to the first time he had ever interacted with the angel-that-had-been-Crowley. It was at the creation of the universe, and he recalled with a pang the joy on his face, the sheer exuberance and excitement that had left a lasting impression on the more junior angel. Crowley as an angel had been magical, magnificent to behold. And Aziraphale knew better than anyone that Crowley had never deserved to Fall. Crowley had no memories of his time spent as an angel, but Aziraphale remembered. He remembered it all.

He was so lost in thought that he missed the triumphant glint in the Metatron's eyes.

"I... well, I don't quite know what to say," began Aziraphale, but Metatron held up a finger to halt him.

"It's just an option. One of many powers you will have as Supreme Archangel. A word to the wise, though..." Metatron leaned in conspiratorially. "There has been some talk that this partnership is all simply a part of Hell's... how shall we put it... long game."

Aziraphale was lost. "What do you mean?"

"Well there is a rumour that Hell assigned some specific demons to tempt angels away from Heaven..." Metatron paused, choosing his phrasing with care. "I personally didn't believe it myself until the utter disaster with Gabriel. Quite a shock, I can tell you. I never thought Gabriel would be vulnerable to demonic influences, but I suppose you never can tell..."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. "I can assure you -" he began, but the Metatron interrupted.

"Oh, my dear boy, I am certain that you would never fall prey to a demon's wiles. You are far too intelligent for that." The Metatron looked Aziraphale coolly in the eyes, but there was a question there. A question Aziraphale didn't want to examine too closely. He looked down at the coffee in his hands, and recalled the night he and Crowley had spent in Job's basement.

Are you... trying to tempt me?

Not at all, angels can't be tempted, can you?

The taste of those ox ribs. The way once he'd tasted it, he'd realised he was so hungry, not just hungry, but ravenous. Starved.

Aziraphale pushed the thought away, but as soon as he pushed it away, another thought barrelled in to take its place. The first time Crowley had convinced him to try wine, promising him that a drop wouldn't hurt. The first gift he had ever been given, a book, his first material Earthly possession, gifted to him by Crowley. The way Crowley had convinced him that there was no point in doing Good if they were always cancelling each other out. The way Aziraphale had done so many small, little, bad things because Crowley had assured him it didn't matter. Each memory was like a gut punch.

But no.

No.

He knew Crowley. Yes, he was a demon, but he wasn't bad. At least, not all bad.

"I believe you are quite wrong," stated Aziraphale boldly, sitting up straight. "The demon Crowley has, over the many years we have spent... I mean, over the time we have known one another, done many kind and Good things. He is better than half the angels I know! Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, they don't have half his compassion, his honesty, his bravery. I believe God was mistaken in..." Aziraphale's brave defence faltered as Metatron's eyebrows raised. "I mean, I think sometimes people deserve a second chance."

Metatron nodded. "Perhaps it is as you say." He stood, and Aziraphale followed suit.

Aziraphale glanced back at the bookshop. All he wanted now was to get back to Crowley. He knew that talking with him would alleviate these fears. Crowley might not want to go to Heaven, but surely he would see that it was the safest place for them to be? Especially if their fears about The Big One were correct? In spite of everything Crowley felt about Heaven, he was certain that Crowley would see it was the only way they could save the world they had both come to cherish. And perhaps he'd see a glimmer of that happy angel he'd known so long ago... before Aziraphale had put thoughts into his head, thoughts that had ultimately led to...

Aziraphale shook the thoughts away.

"Uh, thank you for this... chat... I really had better get back to the bookshop," Aziraphale said delicately.

"Well, you don't have to answer immediately," said the Metatron, "Take all the time you need."

His expression, however, demanded urgency.

"I... I don't know what to say," Aziraphale faltered. He needed Crowley. He couldn't make this decision without him.

"Well then, go and tell your friend the good news," said the Metatron measuredly. Good news.

Would Crowley see it that way?

Aziraphale very much doubted it. As he crossed the street, he resolved that he was going to hard-sell Heaven to Crowley no matter what. Above everything else, he wanted Crowley to be safe. He wanted humanity to be safe. And the only way that was going to happen is if he had a voice. He exhaled, steeling himself for what he knew was going to be a very difficult pitch.

The bell tinkled as he entered, and he saw Maggie and Nina walking toward the exit. "We're just going," smiled Maggie. "I'm sure you two have a lot to say," Nina added, and they exited.

Aziraphale took another deep breath as his eyes fell on Crowley. Crowley was sat in his usual chair, leaning forward with his dark glasses on, his mouth hanging open as if in surprise. He thought, with a sudden rush of feelings, how accustomed he had become to seeing the demon here, and how comfortable Crowley had made himself here. These days he almost always took his glasses off around the shop, a level of vulnerability Crowley had only recently managed in the last year or so.

Crowley, noticing Aziraphale, suddenly stood, removing his glasses. Aziraphale felt his resolve soften as he looked into the demon's wide yellow eyes with their trademark snakelike slits. Yellow really was the most beautiful colour. He was so busy staring that he didn't even realise Crowley had begun to speak.

"Look, I suppose, um... I've got something to say. I know we ought to be talking about... uh, it's probably best if I start off doing all the talking, you do all the listening, 'cause if I don't start talking now, I won't ever start talking, right? Yes, so -"

Aziraphale barely heard a word of what the demon was saying. This wasn't uncommon when Crowley was around, Aziraphale did have a tendency to get a little distracted - but this time it was because he was desperately trying to think of the right arrangement of words that would help Crowley adjust to what he was about to hear.

"What's that lovely human expression?" interjected Aziraphale, flailing his arms wildly. He was feeling giddy. "Oh yes, hold that thought!" He pasted on a wide grin. Sell it, sell it, he told himself. "You see, I have some incredibly good news to give you!"

Crowley didn't look particularly pleased so far. "Really?"

"I, um... so, uh, um..." Aziraphale's arms were still doing most of the talking for him whilst he frantically tried to explain. "The Metatron, you know, I don't think he's as bad a fellow... Well, I think I might have misjudged him. You see, I... Well, he said, um..." Aziraphale noticed Crowley's expression darken with mistrust. Oops. Go bigger. "He said that Gabriel, obviously hadn't worked out..." Aziraphale laughed nervously, "as Supreme Archangel and Commander of the Heavenly Host, and he asked who I thought should take over in Heaven now that Gabriel was gone. And I said Michael, to which he laughed, and said there was only one candidate who made the slightest bit of sense. Me."

Crowley's face was frozen. It was hard to assess how he was taking this. "And I said, 'me?' And he said that I was a leader, honest, I didn't tell people what they wanted to hear and that they needed me. Of course I was surprised - I mean, obviously - and of course I said I didn't want to go, because... well... but then..." Aziraphale paused and took a step closer to Crowley, his entire face lighting up. "He said that if I was Archangel, I could restore you to be an angel. Full angelic status."

A beat. "He said what?"

"He said I could appoint you to be an angel." Aziraphale couldn't help beaming. Crowley deserved to be restored, deserved it more than anyone, in spite of everything Metatron had said, he knew that Crowley should never have Fallen. "You could come back to Heaven and... and everything. Like the old times. Only even nicer."

Aziraphale's smile lit up the room as Crowley held his gaze. "Right. And you told him just where he could stick it, then?"

Aziraphale's smile faltered. What had gone wrong? "Not at all..."

Crowley shook his head slowly. "Oh, we're better than that, you're better than that, angel! You don't need them, I certainly don't need them!" Crowley began pacing, avoiding Aziraphale's gaze. "Look, they asked me back to Hell, I said no, I'm not rejoining their team, neither should you!" His yellow eyes met Aziraphale's again and they were awash with confusion.

Aziraphale fumbled. "But.. well, obviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys." He saw Crowley's face change. Whoops. He should have said THEY are the bad guys. Crowley was anything but bad, and that was precisely the point he was trying to make. "But Heaven... Well, it's the side of Truth, of Light... of Good." And that's why you belong there.

"When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it," growled Crowley.

Aziraphale was flustered now - this hadn't gone how he thought it would, at all.

"Tell me you said no," Crowley begged. Aziraphale looked away, avoiding the way Crowley's body broke a little as he stepped forward into the silence. His voice when it came out was devoid of all his usual venom. It was almost soft, pleading. "Tell me you said no."

"If... I'm in charge, I can make a difference," Aziraphale said. It sounded so lame and contrite given the weight of the conversation, but he really meant it. The angel had endured so much loss that he had been unable to control, so many of God's choices he had been unable to question or challenge. How many times had he had to sit back and endure human tragedies at the hand of God, wrestling with himself to try and believe that it was for the Greater Good but never understanding why. This was his opportunity to finally understand God's will - and perhaps even try to alter it.

Crowley sighed deeply and began pacing again. "Oh... Oh, God." He gulped. "Right, okay. Right. I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say, I think I'd better say it now. Right. Okay. Yes. So." Crowley sighed, and Aziraphale noticed that the demon was almost imperceptibly shaking.

The energy in the room shifted instantly. Aziraphale instantly knew that whatever Crowley was about to say was going to change things. Permanently.

"We've known each other a long time."

This was it.

"We've been on this planet a long time. I mean, you and me."

He wasn't ready.

"I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me."

How long had he waited to hear these words? Words he was sure would never come. Crowley never spoke like this, not ever. Aziraphale's eyes flicked to the street where he could see the Metatron standing by Muriel and he shifted uneasily.

"We're a team. A group. A group of the two of us."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened. This was really happening.

"And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't." Crowley's voice cracked.

Aziraphale's mouth struggled to find words, but no sound came out. Crowley hadn't looked away from him once, but broke their gaze now.

"I mean, the last few years, not really." Crowley looked around the bookshop and Aziraphale knew that they were both thinking of the last four years they had spent together on Earth. No longer having to pretend to be on opposite sides. No longer having to deny their affection for one another. It had still been unspoken, but it had been allowed. They had allowed a life to grow, here.

"And I would like to spend -" Crowley began, but as his eyes met the angel's, he choked on the words. He looked away again, growled, exhaled, then regained his composure, whilst Aziraphale stared at the demon as though he were a freight train coming straight at him. Was Crowley really trying to say what he thought he was trying to say?

"I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can." Crowley's voice was desperate, pleading. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley like this before.

It scared him.

Crowley was always the strong one, always the brave one, always coming to his rescue. Despite knowing the demon had a softer side, Aziraphale had come to rely on the demon's hard exterior. You always knew where you stood. Except now, he really didn't.

"Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell, they're toxic! We need to get away from them, just be an us."

An us.

In all honesty, they had been an us for quite some time now, and they both knew it. It was just one of those things they didn't say. Except all of a sudden Crowley had changed the rules and Aziraphale didn't know what his part was in this new dynamic. He felt lost. All he knew, all he had ever known, and all he had ever tried to do, was the Right Thing.

"You and me, what do you say?" finished Crowley, his eyes wide. Pleading. Hoping.

An eternity seemed to pass as Aziraphale stared into Crowley's open, hopeful face. He reminded him then of the angel he had been. It reminded Aziraphale again of what they had both lost, and what stood to be lost now. And even though Aziraphale had dreamed of this moment many times, in many ways, over many years - and in no version of his imaginings had he ever rejected the demon's affections - he knew that he could never place his own selfish wants over what was right. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"Come with me," he implored, stepping closer to Crowley, his blue eyes begging the demon to see reason. "To Heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference."

Crowley looked stunned. "You can't leave this bookshop."

Aziraphale almost laughed. How could Crowley be thinking about the bookshop at a time like this? Humanity was at stake, for crying out loud! If they remained here on Earth and let Heaven and Hell wage their wars, there wouldn't be much of anything left, let alone a bookshop. The existence Crowley wanted wouldn't even be possible.

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "Nothing lasts forever."

Crowley's entire demeanour changed. He wilted, and with horror Aziraphale saw tears glisten in his beautiful yellow eyes. Crowley's face, that had moments ago been so expressive and open, turned to its usual impassive state. "No," said Crowley quietly, blinking and looking away. "No, I don't suppose it does." He put his dark glasses on, and Aziraphale realised that Crowley had read something into his words that he hadn't meant. "Good luck," he said flatly, and walked past Aziraphale to the exit.

Aziraphale felt the world drop out from beneath his feet. "Good luck? Crowley!"

He watched his demon pause, momentarily, then turn around. He knew he had to say something to convince Crowley to stay. He knew trying to convince Crowley it would be a good idea to go to Heaven would be tricky, but he knew that Crowley was at heart a GOOD person. He had to appeal to that.

"Crowley, come back! To Heaven! Work with me!" He saw Crowley's deadpan face and realised, with some shame, that he hadn't truly responded to any of the wonderful things Crowley had tried to say to him. Crowley had dropped his defences and tried to redefine their relationship and Aziraphale found himself unexpectedly unable to reciprocate. The words just wouldn't come. He gulped, now, examining his own feelings.

Did he care for Crowley?

Yes.

Did he love Crowley?

Yes.

Did he want to spend his existence with Crowley?

Yes.

But did he feel deep shame and guilt for loving him, a demon?

Also, yes.

Aziraphale tried. "We can be together!" he clasped his hands together, as if trying to press together what he wanted and what was right. "Angels! Doing good!"

Crowley wouldn't even look at him.

The feeling of the Earth falling away came back to him. He was really about to lose Crowley. "I - I need you!"

Crowley looked at him then. They were both remembering the many times they had protested quite the opposite over the years. Crowley looked unimpressed.

Aziraphale felt his whole body burn with frustration - he was offering Crowley a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. Fallen angels never came back to Heaven, not ever. And he knew Crowley deserved to be there. He wanted to undo the mistake he had made all those millennia ago, the guilty truth he had never forgiven himself for. He swallowed back a lump in his throat as he recalled the last moments before Crowley fell, how the angel had sought out Aziraphale's face in the crowds, his eyes wide and wild, hopeful and scared - and how Aziraphale had looked away. This was his chance to put Crowley back where he belonged. "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

"I understand," said Crowley flatly. "I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

And that was the moment Aziraphale knew he'd lost him.

The world fell away, for good. Somehow he stayed standing. "Well... then there's nothing more to say."

Crowley was only two feet away but it felt like miles. And soon the distance would be a lot further.

"Listen," said Crowley, pointing up. "Do you hear that?"

Aziraphale barely heard him over the sound of his own panicked thoughts. "I... I don't hear anything," he said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.

"That's the point," said Crowley, his words dripping with emotion. "No nightingales."

At the mention of nightingales, something hardened in Aziraphale. More unspoken understandings between them. The song 'A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square' had been playing on the night their life together began, the night they were freed from the confines of pretending they were on opposite sides. Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but Aziraphale knew it was a song that signified their relationship, their partnership, their freedom. No more nightingales meant no more them. Crowley was saying, in his own way, in the cruellest way, that they were over.

He saw something like satisfaction in Crowley's face as he realised the hit had landed. "You idiot," continued Crowley, frustration etched on every line of his face. "We could've been... us."

Aziraphale was the one to turn away now, hiding tears that had betrayed his resolve. Did Crowley think he didn't know what he was giving up? All he had ever wanted... but not at the cost of life on Earth. He couldn't bear to watch his demon leave, to walk away forever, if he looked at him a moment longer he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

He heard footsteps, and closed his eyes, not wanting to see Crowley leaving - but instead felt a rough tug at his lapels, and before he knew it, he felt Crowley's lips on his. The shock reverberated through his entire body and his instinctive reaction was to pull away, no, I can't, I can't he thought desperately... but the warmth of Crowley's lips, the feeling of his body so close, the fact that it had taken six thousand years to finally close the gap between them, it was impossible to resist. It felt so good, to finally be... us. Despite himself, Aziraphale's hands stopped fluttering, and he pulled Crowley closer, giving in to the temptation.

The temptation.

Aziraphale's hands flew off the demon.

Hell assigned some specific demons to tempt angels away from Heaven...

Crowley let go of Aziraphale and Aziraphale gasped, overcome with a torrent of emotions. He hadn't known he'd wanted this until the feel of Crowley's lips pressing into his. It had taken a moment but the craving it had awoken in him raged through his body, a betrayal against all that he tried so hard to be. It felt exactly like that night in Job's basement, all those years ago... He wanted Crowley. His entire being ached to close the space between them again. He wanted so badly to forget all about the Metatron, Heaven, Hell, everything, and just throw himself back into Crowley's arms. But he'd been tempted, hadn't he? The serpent did what he does best, what he does so well, so slyly, what he's done for thousands of years... Aziraphale felt something inside him break, deeply, as he realised that, regardless of whether or not Hell was behind it, he had been tempted, and failed to pass the test yet again.

Aziraphale felt a cold, righteous anger sweep over him.

Crowley was staring at him expectantly. What did he expect? A declaration of love after having completely manipulated the angel's feelings?

I won't let you have the satisfaction of knowing how much you tempted me. How much you hurt me.

"I... I forgive you," Aziraphale said unsteadily, clenching his jaw in resolve. He regretted it the moment he said it.

Crowley sighed, a deep sigh. "Don't bother."

With that, the demon turned and finally left the bookshop.

Crumbling, Aziraphale let the tears come. He lifted his fingers to his lips, allowing himself for just a moment to remember what it felt like. He had never been kissed before, he had always thought it a peculiar human oddity, to press their faces together to show affection - he had not expected it to feel warm, to feel intimate, to feel like they were communicating in ways that could never be put into words. It was... magical.

But then he remembered who he was. Or at least, who he was supposed to be. Not an angel in love with a demon. An angel who did The Right Thing. An angel like that does not get tempted away from doing The Right Thing. If he was going to be Supreme Archangel, he had to be THAT version of himself.

He wiped the kiss away from his lips with vehemence. He would not allow himself to think about it, or Crowley, anymore.

Because if I did, I would run back to you...

As Aziraphale struggled to regain control of his emotions, the bell tinkled, and for a moment, one glorious moment, Aziraphale thought it was Crowley coming back to straighten everything out. Turning, he felt his hope fade as he saw the Metatron striding in. Quickly turning away to wipe the tears that threatened to fall and betray his emotion, he gave himself a quick talking to. This was no time for weakness.

"Well? How did he take it?"

Aziraphale said, truthfully, "Uh... not well." He chuckled nervously. He didn't want the Metatron to interfere with Crowley. He knew he needed to be careful about what he said.

"Ah, well, always did want to go his own way," said the Metatron dismissively.

Aziraphale stole a glance outside the bookshop and saw Crowley standing by the Bentley.

"Always asking damn fool questions, too," said the Metatron. Aziraphale recognised that this comment was a disguised warning to himself - don't ask questions. "Right, ready to start?"

Aziraphale felt his heart lurch. Hadn't the Metatron said he had plenty of time to decide? "I..." He glanced once again at the tall, dark figure standing outside. Crowley was stood completely still, watching Aziraphale from the street. Waiting? "My bookshop!" stammered Aziraphale desperately, trying to think of a way to give himself a little more time.

"Ye-es, well, for now, I've entrusted it to Muriel," said the Metatron matter-of-factly, indicating the young angel who waved exuberantly from the window. "So it should be in good hands."

"But..." Aziraphale stared out at the street. At him.

"Anything you need to take with you?" asked the Metatron.

Him, thought Aziraphale. Just him.

The Metatron's energy was cold, and forceful. Aziraphale could feel it coming off him in waves. He knew, somehow, that he had been backed into a corner. "No... nothing I can think of."

The Metatron made an affirmative noise and made to move towards the door, and it all suddenly hit Aziraphale - if he went with the Metatron now, it would really be over. No more cosy bookshop, no more books. No more sushi, no more sherry. No more music, no more plays. No more nightingales. A flash of what returning to Heaven would actually mean suddenly cut through Aziraphale and he understood, finally, what Crowley had been trying to tell him. There would be no going back.

Overcome, he rushed forward. "I think I -" he burst out, but stopped himself.

For once in your soft, silly life, do the Right Thing, angel! Aziraphale told himself sternly. This is about more than you and... him. He took one last look at Crowley. Leaning against the car on the street outside, the demon hadn't moved an inch, his dark-shaded eyes fixated on the inside of the bookshop.

"Nothing at all," said Aziraphale, straightening himself up and exiting the shop, plastering a fake smile on his face.

The street was busy, and Aziraphale could feel a pair of snakelike eyes burning into the back of his head but he wasn't going to look. If he looked, he'd run...

As they approached the entrance to the elevator that would take him to his new job, Metatron smiled at Aziraphale in a way that was intended to be reassuring but sent chills down Aziraphale's spine. "Well, I can't think of a better Angel to wrap things up, and to set into motion the next step in the Great Plan."

Aziraphale started. This was why he'd taken the job. This is why he'd forsaken everything he'd ever wanted. "Um, yes, you mentioned that. Can I know... what it is?"

"Well, it's something we need an angel of your talents to direct. An angel who is familiar with how they do things on Earth."

Aziraphale felt himself relax somewhat. Perhaps he had been mistaken and Heaven really was beginning to consider the merits of humanity. He began to smile.

The Metatron turned as the elevator doors opened. "We call it the second coming."

Aziraphale's face dropped its smile, now stricken with panic and fear. The second coming wasn't a fluffy visit from Jesus as most people believed... the second coming meant Judgement Day, when all of humanity would be judged and those found wanting would be thrown into Hellfire. The world, as they knew it, would be over.

The Metatron turned and looked at Aziraphale with steely eyes. Aziraphale felt as though the being could see into his innermost thoughts and tried to rearrange his expression. He looked away... to his left, the tall, dark figure of Crowley still leaned against the car. Definitely waiting. Aziraphale realised Crowley was holding on to the hope that at the last moment, Aziraphale would change his mind and choose their life on Earth.

But what will that be worth if we end up with no Earth left to live on, my dear?

It took every bit of strength Aziraphale had ever had to tear his eyes, his heart, his everything, away from the life he could have had and walk into that elevator. He sighed, inwardly letting go of it all. As he entered, it almost felt as though every step was being taken by someone else, and the smile on his face was a ghost of himself. He was so focused on appearing normal that he didn't notice the Metatron's sigh of relief and smile of victory as the doors slid closed.

"Going up," said the disembodied voice, and they began to move up towards Heaven. Every second that passed, Aziraphale felt his anxiety rise.

The second coming.

Judgement Day.

What had he done? How on Earth could he possibly circumnavigate this? And on his own? Without...

With another pang, Aziraphale realised that Crowley would be Judged just like everybody else. He knew in his heart that Crowley wasn't completely bad, but he had always been under the impression that Judgement Day was very black-and-white when it came to who was deemed righteous and who was not. He could lose him. He could lose everyone - and this time, it would be all his fault. No chance to shrug and complain that someone else had the power this time.

What could he do? What could he actually do?

As the elevator continued to take them higher and higher, Aziraphale racked his brains, and Crowley's words suddenly sprang into his mind. "Just to be able to ask the questions..."

Slowly, a plan began to form in his mind.

A plan that would begin... with a suggestion box.

Aziraphale smiled.

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