crowley (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lettherebelight) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} chances_rpg,@ 2025-04-22 08:54:00 |
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| Entry tags: | good omens: anthony crowley, good omens: aziraphale, ~!game plot: uss enterprise |
Despite being on the Enterprise for such a short amount of time, Aziraphale quickly found his favourite spot on the ship. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a library or a kitchen of sweet treats that captured the angel’s attention but rather the observation deck. Or, more accurately, the stars that could be seen through the observation deck window.
They weren’t stars that could be seen from Earth but given Aziraphale had been there when the lights were switched on, they weren’t completely unfamiliar. More like old friends he hadn’t seen in a very long time. The sort of friends one was civil to but given the distance conversation was stilted and awkward.
“Still very pretty.” He murmured to himself with a soft sigh, eyes wandering over a pinky-blue part of the nebula outside. It was a peaceful place, particularly at all hours of the night when other people aboard the ship were asleep. But peaceful places had a habit of allowing thoughts to wander.
So caught in his wandering thoughts, Aziraphale failed to notice another presence in the room until he was almost right beside them. “Crowley.” Speaking of old friends and awkward conversations. Aziraphale greeted him curtly before thinking Crowley would probably want the space and making a move to excuse himself. “Sorry. I didn’t realise anyone else was here. I’ll… um… leave you to it.”
Being stuck on a spaceship out in the middle of the cosmos wasn’t exactly the demon’s idea of a fun time, but here he was, forced into some sort of job title he was both under qualified and probably too qualified for at the same time. Wearing clothes he never would have worn otherwise (where were the black options?), and generally just not having a good time.
While he should have been ‘working’ – whatever that entailed for him – Crowley found himself wandering the stark, white halls of the Enterprise, lost in thought of nothing in particular. He hadn’t been trying to go anywhere on purpose, but found the doors of the observation deck opening and then closing behind him before he’d even noticed Aziraphale’s presence. Or perhaps he had, because despite himself, Crowley could still feel when the angel was near and maybe he’d been guided there by that instinct, whether he liked it or not.
“Erm,” was his response when the quiet was made decidedly less so by Aziraphale’s words. He stopped where he was, the reality that he found himself in private with the angel for the first time since they’d both come here. The demon swallowed a sigh. “I didn’t– s’was just sort of. Roaming. You don’t have to go anywhere on account of me.”
As Crowley spoke, Aziraphale stopped in his tracks. Not that he really made tracks - just a slight shift away from the large windows of the observation deck.
“I don't?” What started as a statement came out more like a question. Eyebrows raised in surprise. Honestly, this was about as splendidly awkward as one would expect from an in person reunion of the demon and angel.
Mulling over it for a fraction of a second, Aziraphale nodded and went to straighten a waistcoat that wasn’t there, hands meeting the new uniform that was required of them to wear. Regardless, his hands smoothed the tunic of the uniform down out of habit and something to do with his hands.
“You're right. I don't.” He started again. “But given the circumstances of our last parting and our conversations since, I know I am the last being you would want to be around. So…” He faulted, gesturing to the exit but making no move toward it, almost like he was waiting for Crowley to confirm it.
Instinct with any other being would have had Crowley making some snide remark and just turning to leave himself. The demon was made for awkward situations, let alone with the one other being who understood him – or so he had thought at one point – better than anyone.
Instead, he stood there and felt his lip curl just slightly. Perhaps it wasn’t part of the dress code they were now assigned to, but he’d kept his sunglasses on regardless. Habit, really. And thus far, no one had told him he couldn’t. With that said, an eyebrow arched just ever so slightly over the top of one frame and he kept himself from outright making a noise of some sort in response.
“Or that’s what you think you know,” he finally replied after a beat, voice quiet, tongue sharp. Still, he wasn’t telling Aziraphale to get out or even leaving himself. But he also wasn’t moving any further into the area, let alone noticing what was beyond the glass.
The lip curl and raised eyebrow were a clear warning to Aziraphale that he had got it all wrong again. He thought he knew Crowley as well as he knew himself but apparently not. Perhaps he didn’t know Crowley at all but had lucked out in making some very accurate assumptions along the way only to be very wrong when it seemed to count most.
“Then tell me what you want.” Aziraphale replied, voice betraying him somewhat with a slight pleading edge to it. Truthfully though, he was a little desperate to resolve the tension between him and Crowley. He missed the demon but also would understand if things couldn't go back to how they were before.
“I made a mistake.” He continued, unable to stop now that he had started. “I'm sorry. I should have listened to you but I'm listening now.”
Crowley seemed to consider him a moment before turning his head just enough to let his gaze fall elsewhere. Anywhere. The paneling, the glass, the–
The tension seemed to fall away from him at the sight beyond the windows. He hadn’t really paid much mind to what was outside, knowing where they were, but in the dim light of the observation deck where the view wasn’t tainted by the harsher lights throughout the ship, Crowley could see clearly. Or more clearly, anyways.
“The first time I found myself in San Francisco, I was–” Hurt. Angry. Broken. There were a multitude of words that could have described the demon’s demeanor. He didn’t verbally fill in the blank, but it lingered silently between them. “-n’this time, the… ngk, all of it is fresh again. Fresh-ish.” Crowley sighed and waved a hand between them, as if waving off the talk of emotions.
And then he realized what Aziraphale had said and he glanced back at the angel through his sunglasses, eyebrows knitting together slightly. “Mistake? Didn’t think you made those.”
Aziraphale never took his eyes off Crowley, waiting for some sort of answer, watching to see if the demon’s demeanor would give anything away. When Crowley started to speak, Aziraphale was silent, not wanting to interrupt for fear of ruining the thought process and the chance for some answers. But the sentence didn't need to be finished. Aziraphale believed he had a pretty good idea what words filled in the blanks. Betrayed. Abandoned. It all came back to Aziraphale being at fault for saying yes to the Metatron - a decision Aziraphale was somewhat regretting.
Yes, it did seem filled with such promise at the time. The opportunity to change things for the better. To lead and guide the divine powers of their universe to more… more-ness, if that made sense.
It did at first. But with Metatron mentioning something about a Second Coming, Aziraphale quickly figured out the more-ness wasn’t anything he imagined. He most likely wouldn't be changing anything at all. For better or worse. Perhaps it was best the multiverse decided to pull him away from there.
So yes, the feeling of it being fresh (even fresh-ish) was one Aziraphale understood. Maybe not in the same regard but in the way that it was fresh and had only just happened.
He drew his bottom lip in for a brief moment and nodded when Crowley's gaze returned to him. “I… well… it's clear I was wrong about that too.”
It was hard admitting he was wrong but he knew he had to. Even if it didn't resolve anything, it was out there.
After a beat, Aziraphale sighed, gaze shifting back to the window and what lay beyond it. There was something about the stars that felt calming. Grounding him. Reminding him that everything was always growing - himself included.
“They really are quite marvelous.” He murmured, changing the subject. There still felt like there was a lot left unsaid but maybe it was still too fresh. “Shame we can't see many of them in the cities.”
He could see the gears turning, so to speak, as Aziraphale pondered how to respond. Or calculating what was safe and what might not be, based on Crowley’s body language. Either way, it all came down to the same thing: the angel was walking on eggshells in regards to whatever this conversation was or would be. Or at least that’s how he was interpreting it.
“What do you mean s’clear you were wrong about that?” Crowley asked. “I mean, obviously you were, but–” Did something happen?
The demon frowned a bit and then turned his gaze back to the inky blackness in front of them, speckled by millions of stars. Stars he’d helped create. Stars he hadn’t properly seen in… a very, very long time, let alone from this vantage point. “The last time I was with this lot, I was alone. If something happened after we… parted ways, I dunno what it was.”
A quiet opening for dialogue and likely the best Aziraphale was going to get out of him in that moment.
“S’not my stars, but they’re nice enough.”
“It’s clearly obvious.” Aziraphale huffed a little, starting to feel like the conversation was turning into a bit of a riddle he’d never win. Not that there was any winning or losing. Just a lot of avoidance of what needed to be said - at least it felt that way on Aziraphale’s side.
He could see Crowley’s frown out of the corner of his eye, recognising the opening to explain further. Realising he’d have to if he wanted them to get beyond all the avoidance and awkward eggshell walking.
“It’s not something that happened but rather something going to happen.” Aziraphale began, still looking out the window but mindful of Crowley’s presence. “I have a strong reason to believe that whatever is going to happen is quite possibly the reason why Gabriel left and could very well spell out the end… again.” He paused, chancing a glance at Crowley before diverting back to the inky void outside. “Mind, this is all assumptions based on what the Metatron told me as we returned Upstairs. But essentially you were right. I was wrong. And all I wanted to do was tell you but I couldn’t. And then we ended up here and I’m not even sure if there affects here or here there. But I still wanted to tell you. However when we first got here there wasn’t an opportunity to do that, which is completely understandable given how we left things there. And maybe it doesn’t matter at all given here is here and there is there.”
Aziraphale’s body seemed to slump a little like a metaphorical weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “While it may not resolve anything between us, I feel you deserve to know - you were right and I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
Another pause, this one far lengthier than the last. The opportunity to continue speaking was there but also it could be left at that.
“They are.” Azriaphale agreed softly, keeping any whimsical thought that while they weren’t their stars, they could become theirs to himself.
The demon’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention of the Metatron. “What exactly did he say?” he asked, less curious and more demanding than anything. Not that he’d trust a word out of that being’s mouth, but whatever it was he said – and Crowley had a sneaky suspicion – had Aziraphale clearly upset.
“Ngk– no, it’s… I mean, I suppose in my own experience, time sort of. Stops? Where you’re pulled from. I was here before and then when I went back, it was right where I’d been with no memory of being here. But then it was only a few minutes at– well, back on our Earth and I was pulled back here. Erm, San Francisco. When in all actuality, it had been over two years since I’d been here. There? Whatever.” Crowley huffed and waved a hand nonchalantly. “All that to say, no, neither really affects the other. Whatever is happening on our Earth isn’t happening at present because time stopped. Sort of.”
“He said they need an angel of my talents to direct it. To put into motion the next step in the great plan. To wrap things up.” Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to answer Crowley’s demand, his tone solemn and acknowledging of the fact he felt like he had been fooled. “He called it, the Second Coming.”
At that little bombshell, Aziraphale paused, replaying the conversation over in his mind. It seemed so obvious now. They were going to use him, somehow, to start the end again. Wrap everything up, switch off the lights, and not let the door hit him on the way out.
But then Crowley explained the here and there of it all. One didn’t affect the other. So even if he did come up with a plan to solve the dilemma there while being here, he wouldn’t remember it. A frown marred his features as he mulled over that information.
“No.” He replied suddenly as if struck by lightning, clearly making some sort of decision. “If here doesn’t affect there then, no, I will not go back. I refuse to become the puppet that orchestrates the end. I won’t do it. I’ll stay here. In space. San Francisco. Whatever. I’m not going back.” Once that was settled in his mind, Aziraphale felt a bit better. Of course the whims of whatever brought them to San Francisco in the first place might have other ideas. But Aziraphale wasn’t going to think about that.
Oh, there it was. The Second Coming. “Of course,” he muttered. Despite the eons it had been since Crowley had been a part of any real plans, he had a vague recollection of hearing about that Before and the demon’s demeanor shifted into something like ire while he quietly stewed on the information. It wasn’t surprising – of course because they’d foiled the end of the world happening the first time, they’d try to do it again.
And then there was the matter that the Metatron had completely fooled the angel into agreeing to help, without even telling him what it was he was helping with. Used his wanting to see the good in everything against him.
Crowley sighed, finally. “Good luck with that, this place – that place – it doesn’t care what you want, truthfully. Some folks disappear after a few months, some have been there for years. Luck of the draw, I suppose.” Still, he wasn’t ignoring the rest of what the angel had said and Crowley shifted a little, angling to face him just a bit. “S’good to hear you don’t want to actually be a part of that. Metatron’s always been a manipulative arsehole.”
Aziraphale regarded Crowley after his wishes of good luck, shooting him a little pout and look that silently asked the demon to not ruin his fantastical idea of staying with the truth. There was nothing wrong with a bit of wishful thinking.
He was quiet for a moment, the pout quickly shifting to a small half smile. The tiniest upward turn of the corner of his lips as he took what Crowley said as a compliment. “I never really had many dealings with him before. Not directly, anyway.” Still, that was no excuse. He should have heeded Crowley’s warnings. Instead he had been blinded by the prospect of doing good.
“But honestly, why would anyone want to be a part of that.” He spoke the last word like it left a foul taste in his mouth at the very thought of what it implied. “Earth is a wonderful place. There’s books and music and so many different varieties of food and tea and coffee. Not to mention all the people we’ve met… and well, I don’t need to explain all that to you. You know. But I don’t want it all… gone.”
“We don’t want it all gone because we know how–” Crowley inhaled and pushed out another sigh, letting his gaze wander back to the stars. “How nice it can be there.” It wasn’t often he was keen to give a compliment about the planet or its inhabitants, but Hell wasn’t listening here.
“They don’t care about the planet or the humans on it. They just want their war that God allegedly said was the plan from the get go, which if you ask me, is a load of bollocks and something Metatron just decided…” Because that sneaky, floating, manipulative being would undermine God’s word for his own benefit, as far as Crowley was concerned.
Metatron wasn’t to be trusted; he never should have been. Michael, too.
The demon scowled a little at the thought, but kept it to himself. “They’re selfish– and. And cruel. Humans mean nothing to them, they never have. All a ‘part of the plan’,” he said, with a mocking sort of tone to his voice, “or whatever.”
The compliment was rare and the corners of Aziraphale’s lips turned upward slightly, feeling like he was keeping Crowley’s true feelings toward their Earth a secret. Neither of “the sides” were listening here, so sending the sentiment out into the universe shouldn’t stir up any repercussions. At least, the angel didn’t think there would be.
As lovely as the compliment was, Crowley continued speaking the truth, leaving Aziraphale nodding in agreement. The so-called “plan” was obvious and the manipulation of appealing to his better nature and wanting to make a difference left Aziraphale feeling rather embarrassed.
However, there was one thought that eased his mind.
“They’re also not here.” He spoke up again after a very brief pause. “The plan. Heaven. Hell. All of it. Not here.” Watching the stars outside glitter and twinkle, completely unaware of any complexities happening around them, was peaceful. Of course thoughts of their Earth would still plague the back of his mind, but it wasn’t wrong to want some sort of reprieve from the there-ness of it all. Was it?
“I’m glad you are, though.” Aziraphale added, not taking his eyes off the view outside the window. Despite not being on the best of terms before they arrived and the awkward tension that followed from their fallout, Aziraphale was still glad Crowley was here.
Crowley scoffed quietly at the remark and rolled his eyes, a hint of fondness in the action that Aziraphale was probably more accustomed to than the iciness the demon had shown him initially.
“Oh, shut up,” he added with a soft grumble of his words. But the angel was right. Hell not listening meant nothing of their home was – not Heaven, not Hell, not the plan. It was something he’d taken comfort in the first time he’d arrived in San Francisco. The fact that it was a fresh(er) start. This would be no different and yet entirely different, if only for Aziraphale’s addition to the equation. Yet, this would also be a fresh(er) start for him, too.
The demon let a less-awkward silence settle between them before he glanced over at Aziraphale, eyebrow raised slightly. “M’bored with the stars, angel. Want to go get a drink?”
The soft grumble was expected as it tended to happen whenever Aziraphale made a comment that could be interpreted as mushy. However the silence that followed felt less awkward. More companionable. More… them.
Sensing Crowley glance in his direction, Aziraphale looked away from the stars and toward the demon. “That is a tempting offer.” He paused for a second, pretending to mull over it. “Temptation accomplished. Lead the way. I’m sure you know where to find the best place to drink.”
They weren’t stars that could be seen from Earth but given Aziraphale had been there when the lights were switched on, they weren’t completely unfamiliar. More like old friends he hadn’t seen in a very long time. The sort of friends one was civil to but given the distance conversation was stilted and awkward.
“Still very pretty.” He murmured to himself with a soft sigh, eyes wandering over a pinky-blue part of the nebula outside. It was a peaceful place, particularly at all hours of the night when other people aboard the ship were asleep. But peaceful places had a habit of allowing thoughts to wander.
So caught in his wandering thoughts, Aziraphale failed to notice another presence in the room until he was almost right beside them. “Crowley.” Speaking of old friends and awkward conversations. Aziraphale greeted him curtly before thinking Crowley would probably want the space and making a move to excuse himself. “Sorry. I didn’t realise anyone else was here. I’ll… um… leave you to it.”
Being stuck on a spaceship out in the middle of the cosmos wasn’t exactly the demon’s idea of a fun time, but here he was, forced into some sort of job title he was both under qualified and probably too qualified for at the same time. Wearing clothes he never would have worn otherwise (where were the black options?), and generally just not having a good time.
While he should have been ‘working’ – whatever that entailed for him – Crowley found himself wandering the stark, white halls of the Enterprise, lost in thought of nothing in particular. He hadn’t been trying to go anywhere on purpose, but found the doors of the observation deck opening and then closing behind him before he’d even noticed Aziraphale’s presence. Or perhaps he had, because despite himself, Crowley could still feel when the angel was near and maybe he’d been guided there by that instinct, whether he liked it or not.
“Erm,” was his response when the quiet was made decidedly less so by Aziraphale’s words. He stopped where he was, the reality that he found himself in private with the angel for the first time since they’d both come here. The demon swallowed a sigh. “I didn’t– s’was just sort of. Roaming. You don’t have to go anywhere on account of me.”
As Crowley spoke, Aziraphale stopped in his tracks. Not that he really made tracks - just a slight shift away from the large windows of the observation deck.
“I don't?” What started as a statement came out more like a question. Eyebrows raised in surprise. Honestly, this was about as splendidly awkward as one would expect from an in person reunion of the demon and angel.
Mulling over it for a fraction of a second, Aziraphale nodded and went to straighten a waistcoat that wasn’t there, hands meeting the new uniform that was required of them to wear. Regardless, his hands smoothed the tunic of the uniform down out of habit and something to do with his hands.
“You're right. I don't.” He started again. “But given the circumstances of our last parting and our conversations since, I know I am the last being you would want to be around. So…” He faulted, gesturing to the exit but making no move toward it, almost like he was waiting for Crowley to confirm it.
Instinct with any other being would have had Crowley making some snide remark and just turning to leave himself. The demon was made for awkward situations, let alone with the one other being who understood him – or so he had thought at one point – better than anyone.
Instead, he stood there and felt his lip curl just slightly. Perhaps it wasn’t part of the dress code they were now assigned to, but he’d kept his sunglasses on regardless. Habit, really. And thus far, no one had told him he couldn’t. With that said, an eyebrow arched just ever so slightly over the top of one frame and he kept himself from outright making a noise of some sort in response.
“Or that’s what you think you know,” he finally replied after a beat, voice quiet, tongue sharp. Still, he wasn’t telling Aziraphale to get out or even leaving himself. But he also wasn’t moving any further into the area, let alone noticing what was beyond the glass.
The lip curl and raised eyebrow were a clear warning to Aziraphale that he had got it all wrong again. He thought he knew Crowley as well as he knew himself but apparently not. Perhaps he didn’t know Crowley at all but had lucked out in making some very accurate assumptions along the way only to be very wrong when it seemed to count most.
“Then tell me what you want.” Aziraphale replied, voice betraying him somewhat with a slight pleading edge to it. Truthfully though, he was a little desperate to resolve the tension between him and Crowley. He missed the demon but also would understand if things couldn't go back to how they were before.
“I made a mistake.” He continued, unable to stop now that he had started. “I'm sorry. I should have listened to you but I'm listening now.”
Crowley seemed to consider him a moment before turning his head just enough to let his gaze fall elsewhere. Anywhere. The paneling, the glass, the–
The tension seemed to fall away from him at the sight beyond the windows. He hadn’t really paid much mind to what was outside, knowing where they were, but in the dim light of the observation deck where the view wasn’t tainted by the harsher lights throughout the ship, Crowley could see clearly. Or more clearly, anyways.
“The first time I found myself in San Francisco, I was–” Hurt. Angry. Broken. There were a multitude of words that could have described the demon’s demeanor. He didn’t verbally fill in the blank, but it lingered silently between them. “-n’this time, the… ngk, all of it is fresh again. Fresh-ish.” Crowley sighed and waved a hand between them, as if waving off the talk of emotions.
And then he realized what Aziraphale had said and he glanced back at the angel through his sunglasses, eyebrows knitting together slightly. “Mistake? Didn’t think you made those.”
Aziraphale never took his eyes off Crowley, waiting for some sort of answer, watching to see if the demon’s demeanor would give anything away. When Crowley started to speak, Aziraphale was silent, not wanting to interrupt for fear of ruining the thought process and the chance for some answers. But the sentence didn't need to be finished. Aziraphale believed he had a pretty good idea what words filled in the blanks. Betrayed. Abandoned. It all came back to Aziraphale being at fault for saying yes to the Metatron - a decision Aziraphale was somewhat regretting.
Yes, it did seem filled with such promise at the time. The opportunity to change things for the better. To lead and guide the divine powers of their universe to more… more-ness, if that made sense.
It did at first. But with Metatron mentioning something about a Second Coming, Aziraphale quickly figured out the more-ness wasn’t anything he imagined. He most likely wouldn't be changing anything at all. For better or worse. Perhaps it was best the multiverse decided to pull him away from there.
So yes, the feeling of it being fresh (even fresh-ish) was one Aziraphale understood. Maybe not in the same regard but in the way that it was fresh and had only just happened.
He drew his bottom lip in for a brief moment and nodded when Crowley's gaze returned to him. “I… well… it's clear I was wrong about that too.”
It was hard admitting he was wrong but he knew he had to. Even if it didn't resolve anything, it was out there.
After a beat, Aziraphale sighed, gaze shifting back to the window and what lay beyond it. There was something about the stars that felt calming. Grounding him. Reminding him that everything was always growing - himself included.
“They really are quite marvelous.” He murmured, changing the subject. There still felt like there was a lot left unsaid but maybe it was still too fresh. “Shame we can't see many of them in the cities.”
He could see the gears turning, so to speak, as Aziraphale pondered how to respond. Or calculating what was safe and what might not be, based on Crowley’s body language. Either way, it all came down to the same thing: the angel was walking on eggshells in regards to whatever this conversation was or would be. Or at least that’s how he was interpreting it.
“What do you mean s’clear you were wrong about that?” Crowley asked. “I mean, obviously you were, but–” Did something happen?
The demon frowned a bit and then turned his gaze back to the inky blackness in front of them, speckled by millions of stars. Stars he’d helped create. Stars he hadn’t properly seen in… a very, very long time, let alone from this vantage point. “The last time I was with this lot, I was alone. If something happened after we… parted ways, I dunno what it was.”
A quiet opening for dialogue and likely the best Aziraphale was going to get out of him in that moment.
“S’not my stars, but they’re nice enough.”
“It’s clearly obvious.” Aziraphale huffed a little, starting to feel like the conversation was turning into a bit of a riddle he’d never win. Not that there was any winning or losing. Just a lot of avoidance of what needed to be said - at least it felt that way on Aziraphale’s side.
He could see Crowley’s frown out of the corner of his eye, recognising the opening to explain further. Realising he’d have to if he wanted them to get beyond all the avoidance and awkward eggshell walking.
“It’s not something that happened but rather something going to happen.” Aziraphale began, still looking out the window but mindful of Crowley’s presence. “I have a strong reason to believe that whatever is going to happen is quite possibly the reason why Gabriel left and could very well spell out the end… again.” He paused, chancing a glance at Crowley before diverting back to the inky void outside. “Mind, this is all assumptions based on what the Metatron told me as we returned Upstairs. But essentially you were right. I was wrong. And all I wanted to do was tell you but I couldn’t. And then we ended up here and I’m not even sure if there affects here or here there. But I still wanted to tell you. However when we first got here there wasn’t an opportunity to do that, which is completely understandable given how we left things there. And maybe it doesn’t matter at all given here is here and there is there.”
Aziraphale’s body seemed to slump a little like a metaphorical weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “While it may not resolve anything between us, I feel you deserve to know - you were right and I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
Another pause, this one far lengthier than the last. The opportunity to continue speaking was there but also it could be left at that.
“They are.” Azriaphale agreed softly, keeping any whimsical thought that while they weren’t their stars, they could become theirs to himself.
The demon’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention of the Metatron. “What exactly did he say?” he asked, less curious and more demanding than anything. Not that he’d trust a word out of that being’s mouth, but whatever it was he said – and Crowley had a sneaky suspicion – had Aziraphale clearly upset.
“Ngk– no, it’s… I mean, I suppose in my own experience, time sort of. Stops? Where you’re pulled from. I was here before and then when I went back, it was right where I’d been with no memory of being here. But then it was only a few minutes at– well, back on our Earth and I was pulled back here. Erm, San Francisco. When in all actuality, it had been over two years since I’d been here. There? Whatever.” Crowley huffed and waved a hand nonchalantly. “All that to say, no, neither really affects the other. Whatever is happening on our Earth isn’t happening at present because time stopped. Sort of.”
“He said they need an angel of my talents to direct it. To put into motion the next step in the great plan. To wrap things up.” Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to answer Crowley’s demand, his tone solemn and acknowledging of the fact he felt like he had been fooled. “He called it, the Second Coming.”
At that little bombshell, Aziraphale paused, replaying the conversation over in his mind. It seemed so obvious now. They were going to use him, somehow, to start the end again. Wrap everything up, switch off the lights, and not let the door hit him on the way out.
But then Crowley explained the here and there of it all. One didn’t affect the other. So even if he did come up with a plan to solve the dilemma there while being here, he wouldn’t remember it. A frown marred his features as he mulled over that information.
“No.” He replied suddenly as if struck by lightning, clearly making some sort of decision. “If here doesn’t affect there then, no, I will not go back. I refuse to become the puppet that orchestrates the end. I won’t do it. I’ll stay here. In space. San Francisco. Whatever. I’m not going back.” Once that was settled in his mind, Aziraphale felt a bit better. Of course the whims of whatever brought them to San Francisco in the first place might have other ideas. But Aziraphale wasn’t going to think about that.
Oh, there it was. The Second Coming. “Of course,” he muttered. Despite the eons it had been since Crowley had been a part of any real plans, he had a vague recollection of hearing about that Before and the demon’s demeanor shifted into something like ire while he quietly stewed on the information. It wasn’t surprising – of course because they’d foiled the end of the world happening the first time, they’d try to do it again.
And then there was the matter that the Metatron had completely fooled the angel into agreeing to help, without even telling him what it was he was helping with. Used his wanting to see the good in everything against him.
Crowley sighed, finally. “Good luck with that, this place – that place – it doesn’t care what you want, truthfully. Some folks disappear after a few months, some have been there for years. Luck of the draw, I suppose.” Still, he wasn’t ignoring the rest of what the angel had said and Crowley shifted a little, angling to face him just a bit. “S’good to hear you don’t want to actually be a part of that. Metatron’s always been a manipulative arsehole.”
Aziraphale regarded Crowley after his wishes of good luck, shooting him a little pout and look that silently asked the demon to not ruin his fantastical idea of staying with the truth. There was nothing wrong with a bit of wishful thinking.
He was quiet for a moment, the pout quickly shifting to a small half smile. The tiniest upward turn of the corner of his lips as he took what Crowley said as a compliment. “I never really had many dealings with him before. Not directly, anyway.” Still, that was no excuse. He should have heeded Crowley’s warnings. Instead he had been blinded by the prospect of doing good.
“But honestly, why would anyone want to be a part of that.” He spoke the last word like it left a foul taste in his mouth at the very thought of what it implied. “Earth is a wonderful place. There’s books and music and so many different varieties of food and tea and coffee. Not to mention all the people we’ve met… and well, I don’t need to explain all that to you. You know. But I don’t want it all… gone.”
“We don’t want it all gone because we know how–” Crowley inhaled and pushed out another sigh, letting his gaze wander back to the stars. “How nice it can be there.” It wasn’t often he was keen to give a compliment about the planet or its inhabitants, but Hell wasn’t listening here.
“They don’t care about the planet or the humans on it. They just want their war that God allegedly said was the plan from the get go, which if you ask me, is a load of bollocks and something Metatron just decided…” Because that sneaky, floating, manipulative being would undermine God’s word for his own benefit, as far as Crowley was concerned.
Metatron wasn’t to be trusted; he never should have been. Michael, too.
The demon scowled a little at the thought, but kept it to himself. “They’re selfish– and. And cruel. Humans mean nothing to them, they never have. All a ‘part of the plan’,” he said, with a mocking sort of tone to his voice, “or whatever.”
The compliment was rare and the corners of Aziraphale’s lips turned upward slightly, feeling like he was keeping Crowley’s true feelings toward their Earth a secret. Neither of “the sides” were listening here, so sending the sentiment out into the universe shouldn’t stir up any repercussions. At least, the angel didn’t think there would be.
As lovely as the compliment was, Crowley continued speaking the truth, leaving Aziraphale nodding in agreement. The so-called “plan” was obvious and the manipulation of appealing to his better nature and wanting to make a difference left Aziraphale feeling rather embarrassed.
However, there was one thought that eased his mind.
“They’re also not here.” He spoke up again after a very brief pause. “The plan. Heaven. Hell. All of it. Not here.” Watching the stars outside glitter and twinkle, completely unaware of any complexities happening around them, was peaceful. Of course thoughts of their Earth would still plague the back of his mind, but it wasn’t wrong to want some sort of reprieve from the there-ness of it all. Was it?
“I’m glad you are, though.” Aziraphale added, not taking his eyes off the view outside the window. Despite not being on the best of terms before they arrived and the awkward tension that followed from their fallout, Aziraphale was still glad Crowley was here.
Crowley scoffed quietly at the remark and rolled his eyes, a hint of fondness in the action that Aziraphale was probably more accustomed to than the iciness the demon had shown him initially.
“Oh, shut up,” he added with a soft grumble of his words. But the angel was right. Hell not listening meant nothing of their home was – not Heaven, not Hell, not the plan. It was something he’d taken comfort in the first time he’d arrived in San Francisco. The fact that it was a fresh(er) start. This would be no different and yet entirely different, if only for Aziraphale’s addition to the equation. Yet, this would also be a fresh(er) start for him, too.
The demon let a less-awkward silence settle between them before he glanced over at Aziraphale, eyebrow raised slightly. “M’bored with the stars, angel. Want to go get a drink?”
The soft grumble was expected as it tended to happen whenever Aziraphale made a comment that could be interpreted as mushy. However the silence that followed felt less awkward. More companionable. More… them.
Sensing Crowley glance in his direction, Aziraphale looked away from the stars and toward the demon. “That is a tempting offer.” He paused for a second, pretending to mull over it. “Temptation accomplished. Lead the way. I’m sure you know where to find the best place to drink.”