"Okay, so, I just wanted to come over and tell you to just -- keep calm when I tell you what I'm going to tell you." Newt said, approaching Crowley sheepishly. It was his engagement party and he had invited his friends. Well, friend. But his friend had friends so he counted them too. Anathema had also invited her friends too, which included her friends from work. "So, uh, your ex had a very memorable name and my beloved future wife's colleague has a very similar name so either there are, amazingly, two Aziraphale's in the greater London area or your ex is here."
"Shit." Bill said simply as he immediately reached out to grab onto Crowley before he stormed off. It was a party for Newt and Anathema, not a party to start a feud and a fight.
"Yeah, I didn't know." Newt apologises as he held up his hands. He really didn't - but he had a feeling that Anathema knew. She must have. She was so cunning.
"He's not in London. He's away on mission." Crowley said it in a way no one had ever said anything that was supposed to mimic the way he'd been informed of it by Gabriel all that time ago. What was it now, three years? Something like that. Which he thought to himself - usually thoughts he repressed to the back of his mind - and then remembered furiously googling, all the research he had done to try and track Aziraphale down. To find the training centre, to find out where he'd been sent, anything.
And for how long. Two years, a mission lasted two years. Even with the six months training period, that had to mean that Aziraphale was back by now. Working-- Wait, didn't Anathema work at a library?
"Fucking hell!" He was back by now! Aziraphale was back from mission. "Where is he? I'm gonna--"
He noticed the way Newt looked at him, Bill's hand tightening on him. So he forced himself to appear calm. "I'm just curious. To catch up, you know?" Fucking bastard.
"Okay but like, you know, he's just here to celebrate and we don't want a scene." He didn't but he had a feeling his future wife might. She really hated Aziraphale's boyfriend and -- oh shit. Should he warn for that? Probably not. It would set him off. "I just think you should avoid him, it's not good for either of you. I'll make sure you can stay apart and you won't run into them."
Yeah, Bill caught it. And if Bill caught it, Crowley would too. "...Them?"
"Fuck. Damn. Sorry, I didn't want to say, it's just -- well, he brought his... boyfriend." Well, wasn't this a mess. He anxiously looked behind in, towards the room he knew Aziraphale was in, already wondering if he should go and warn the other to jump out of the window and run.
"His fucking-- When the bloody hell did he get a boyfriend? What, he's ready to be out and proud with that bastard?" Crowley was aware that he was getting louder than necessary and he very much did not care. "Because I wasn't good enough, was I? Not even good enough for a decent conversation. Can't look me in the eye and break up with me, but can bring his new boyfriend to a party!"
He noticed what direction Newt was looking and, quite suddenly, pulled away from Bill to stalk into that direction, right into that room. "Aziraphale?!"
He wasn't going for subtle. Anathema was standing with Aziraphale, while Dallen was freshening up in the bathroom, according to him, and now she took a step back. Ah. Stage was set.
Oh no. Oh no, he knew that voice. He knew it before he saw him coming. The dread that ran through him as he heard it. He froze, eyeing up every possible exit, on the verge of leaping to one when Crowley burst in. No, no, no, no, no. This is why he didn't want to come back to Soho! They should have gone on another mission but noooo, he thought he'd burn in South America (and he would) so here he was.
In hell. Fuck - what was Dallen going to think? He would also yell. God, why do you hate him?
He tried to get some sense of composure, attempting to smile politely. "A-Ah. Crowley, hello-- Hi. Long time, no see..."
"Yeah. Yeah, you can fucking say that again. Long time no see, are you fucking kidding me?!" No, Crowley still didn't intend to quiet down and his focus was on Aziraphale. For all it mattered to him, no one else was even here. He didn't care about anyone else in that moment.
Aziraphale looked as always, almost unchanged. The way he remembered him. Soft blond curls, that dimple, the perfect lips that were always a tease that he never seemed aware of. Crowley supposed he hadn't changed much either, dressed all in black, sunglasses. He had a new tattoo that was supposed to celebrate getting over Aziraphale but that really just reminded him of Aziraphale every time he saw it. A feather on his inner forearm. Visible now, as he gesticulated and had short sleeves.
"Since when are you back? Yesterday? Didn't have time to pick up a phone yet, did you? Didn't have time to hit me up. Just a quick: 'Oh, hi, Crowley. Really missed you on that mission. Sorry I missed your six-hundred sixty-six calls, by the way.'"
"Well, uh, I-- I kind of thought I made it clear..." He texted him one final message telling him he didn't want to do this and it was over and that was kind of it. He ditched his phone and went on the mission Gabriel had pushed him over for months on end. And it was how he met Dallen, how he fell in love, how he had what little he had now. It was for the best, he was happyish and Crowley could get over him. Hopefully. He definitely seemed out of love with him? That was win.
"Please don't yell, it's not very becoming, is it? We could talk privately. Outside, even. It's Anathema's day and I just -- this isn't very -- let's not, okay?"
He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to reject Crowley again and again, it was hard enough the first time. He held up his hands, apologetic. "I said all I want to say."
"Sure. Sure, let's talk outside." Crowley gestured to Aziraphale to come with him, a definitely fake smile on his face. "Let's talk right the hell now."
"You can go to the bedroom," Anathema suggested helpfully, already heading over to open the door for them.
"Bedroom? That's just bloody perfect, innit? Come on then, angel. Let's go talk." The familiar pet name had come out without thinking, he didn't even realise it now. He walked over through the open door, waiting for Aziraphale to join them in the bedroom. Decorated by Anathema almost exclusively, he suspected, aside from maybe one or two posters on the wall. Good, Newt's taste was atrocious.
Looking at Anathema, he mouthed to her desperately. "Why?"
He couldn't do this. His legs wouldn't move and he didn't want to be trapped alone with Crowley, explaining himself. He looked in the direction of the bathroom. If Dallen came back and he was in the bedroom with another man, it would be awfully unfortunate. Even so, he knew there was no way out of this. It was too late.
Swallowing hard, he stepped into the bedroom and shut the door, finding himself a nice, safe corner to back himself up with. "You look ... good." He awkwardly raised his hand, fiddling with his bowtie, feeling aggressively anxious. He knew he didn't look good, he had gained weight and everything. Dallen always liked to remind him.
"Yeah?" Crowley had meant for that to come out in a very no nonsense, confrontational and full of attitude voice, as if he could not care less what Aziraphale thought of his looks. Instead his voice had gone a bit weak towards the end, a bit uncertain, and he had to swallow, clear his throat, before he could talk again. Damn. The first wave of righteous anger gone, he suddenly felt a lot less sure of all this.
He didn't want to be rejected again. Why was he setting himself up like this? "You look gorgeous. Like always. Beautiful."
He reached up to take his glasses off, partially to seem more sincere and mostly because the light was really dim in here. Typical witch, those curtains were thick and the only light came from some fake candles. "I've missed you, angel."
He took a step closer towards him, looking at him with anticipation. Maybe Aziraphale would just admit that he'd missed him to.
He almost missed the yelling. He couldn't handle that. Calling him angel, saying how much he missed him, looking so sincere. Aziraphale didn't think he could hurt this much - he didn't want to let Crowley down again, not in that way but what else could he do? He was an idiot but he was an idiot in a mess that he had to stick with. And this was better. Crowley didn't deserve to suffer with an idiot like him, he deserved to live without him.
"You are too kind." He knew he was lying but it was nice. Kind words were something he felt lacking in these days and he wondered if it was really true. Like always? He didn't know he had ever looked 'gorgeous'.
Looking down, he swallowed hard. He hated this. He really hated it. He wanted to move back but he had cornered himself.
"I know I left things badly but I did what was right. There was no future, I'm afraid. I'm -- I'm still with the church and-and that is where I belong. And you, well, you don't... do you?" Never. Crowley wasn't one of them. He was an 'outsider'.
"But you don't belong with them either! You're not like that. And they don't accept you they way you are. They don't love you the way you are." Crowley moved closer still, trying to read Aziraphale's expression. It had been years, but he still knew him. He still knew him so well. "I do."
Accept him. Love him. Just the way he was. Because Aziraphale wasn't like that insane religion. Aziraphale was caring, smart, funny, loving, so many things that made him wonderful. "You-- You made the world better, angel. For me. You've made me better. I got my life together for you. We could live it together. Ain't too late for that."
"Please, Crowley, please. Don't make me do it again. I don't want to do it again." He closed his eyes, as if he could make it go away, it was bad enough to do it once but twice? He didn't want to lose him, he wanted to take his hand but he couldn't. What would he even do? It was too much, it was too fast, just like last time. Crowley wanted too much.
"I have -- I have someone. We live together..." They did from the day of the mission on so it was just how it was. They kept the routine, played 'house', as Dallen joked. It wasn't perfect but it was enough.
"You can do better and... please, stop this." He didn't want to cry. He didn't.
"But do you love him?!" Crowley urged, without getting loud this time. He was standing a lot closer anyway. "You don't, do you? You can't! True love only happens once." He was convinced of that. He damn well felt that he was living proof of that.
He snatched Aziraphale's hand suddenly, holding it in his. "You're still wearing my ring!"
Just as he exclaimed that, Anathema called something outside the door and then the door was opened by some guy who looked like the Mormon poster boy. The boyfriend, of course.
"Your ring?!" Dallen did not look happy. Obviously. "Who do you think you are? Stop touching him at once."
"Make me," Crowley fired back, sticking his tongue out maturely. Dallen was squaring up, but whatever. He didn't look like a fighter and he was no Gabriel, Crowley assumed he could take him.
"Please stay calm, no one fight! This is all very ridiculous." Oh no, Crowley had outted the ring and now Dallen knew. This would not be a very pleasant ride home, he knew that much. Aziraphale slipped out from where Crowley had him cornered and backed up very far from both men, trying to find a way to make this less of a total mess.
"Dallen, this is ... this is Crowley. An old friend. Crowley, this is--" He trailed off. Could he try friend for Crowley? Would it work? Probably not but he was trying. He gulped and eyed the doorway. "We should be leaving..."
Who was even we any more? He should just leave. This was too much, all too much. He moved to leave, maybe he could just run all the way back to the flat and hide in the closet. He had done it before, irony aside.
"Crowley? His name is Crowley?" Like the name Aziraphale had said in his sleep more than once? The one they had fought over before, unseen. And now that Dallen saw him, he was far from happy. Some rock-star looking man with red hair, basically looking like the devil's minion? And now he was getting his sunglasses back on, as if anyone who wasn't a criminal would wear those inside. "I don't know you, Mr Crowley, but I insist you stay far away from Aziraphale and me."
"I don't want to go anywhere near you, fucking prick. But you can't keep me from him. We're old friends, didn't you hear?" Crowley mocked himself, them, the whole damn situation. "Aziraphale, are you kidding me with this clown?"
"Rather a clown than whatever you are supposed to be! What is that look, a mafia?" He knew little about organised crime, he wasn't allowed to consume media about that.
"We met during the mission. Please, Crowley, it's best you don't." For the sake of his sanity, he wanted to not do this any more. He reached forward and held onto Dallen, holding his forearm and trying to pull him but he didn't really have much strength for that. "Darling, please. Let's leave."
He didn't want to upset him. Then it would be a disaster. Especially now he knew, especially now he had met Crowley, knew of him and knew what the ring meant.
With one last tug, Aziraphale tried his best to get to the door, not wanting to make this a bigger scene. "Lovely party, Anthema, we must be going!"
"We're going to talk about this," Dallen hissed to Aziraphale, but he let himself be pulled along, even sliding an arm around Aziraphale possessively.
Something about it all didn't sit well with Crowley. Nothing about it did. "Don't talk to him like that!"
"I'll talk to him any way I want. Go pray in a church, heathen." Not the slam-dunk Dallen thought it was, but he didn't realise that, he was prepared to walk out of there with his head held high.
Anathema felt bad, she truly did, but all she could do was mouth a 'sorry' to Aziraphale, there was no time for lengthy apologies or explanations. She pulled the bedroom door closed hastily, Crowley's voice ringing through, but muffled.
"Damn you, Aziraphale!" Anathema blinked, smiled pleasantly at her remaining party guests, and Dallen pulled Aziraphale away with a huff.
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"Shit." Bill said simply as he immediately reached out to grab onto Crowley before he stormed off. It was a party for Newt and Anathema, not a party to start a feud and a fight.
"Yeah, I didn't know." Newt apologises as he held up his hands. He really didn't - but he had a feeling that Anathema knew. She must have. She was so cunning.
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And for how long. Two years, a mission lasted two years. Even with the six months training period, that had to mean that Aziraphale was back by now. Working-- Wait, didn't Anathema work at a library?
"Fucking hell!" He was back by now! Aziraphale was back from mission. "Where is he? I'm gonna--"
He noticed the way Newt looked at him, Bill's hand tightening on him. So he forced himself to appear calm. "I'm just curious. To catch up, you know?" Fucking bastard.
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Yeah, Bill caught it. And if Bill caught it, Crowley would too. "...Them?"
"Fuck. Damn. Sorry, I didn't want to say, it's just -- well, he brought his... boyfriend." Well, wasn't this a mess. He anxiously looked behind in, towards the room he knew Aziraphale was in, already wondering if he should go and warn the other to jump out of the window and run.
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He noticed what direction Newt was looking and, quite suddenly, pulled away from Bill to stalk into that direction, right into that room. "Aziraphale?!"
He wasn't going for subtle. Anathema was standing with Aziraphale, while Dallen was freshening up in the bathroom, according to him, and now she took a step back. Ah. Stage was set.
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In hell. Fuck - what was Dallen going to think? He would also yell. God, why do you hate him?
He tried to get some sense of composure, attempting to smile politely. "A-Ah. Crowley, hello-- Hi. Long time, no see..."
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Aziraphale looked as always, almost unchanged. The way he remembered him. Soft blond curls, that dimple, the perfect lips that were always a tease that he never seemed aware of. Crowley supposed he hadn't changed much either, dressed all in black, sunglasses. He had a new tattoo that was supposed to celebrate getting over Aziraphale but that really just reminded him of Aziraphale every time he saw it. A feather on his inner forearm. Visible now, as he gesticulated and had short sleeves.
"Since when are you back? Yesterday? Didn't have time to pick up a phone yet, did you? Didn't have time to hit me up. Just a quick: 'Oh, hi, Crowley. Really missed you on that mission. Sorry I missed your six-hundred sixty-six calls, by the way.'"
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"Please don't yell, it's not very becoming, is it? We could talk privately. Outside, even. It's Anathema's day and I just -- this isn't very -- let's not, okay?"
He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to reject Crowley again and again, it was hard enough the first time. He held up his hands, apologetic. "I said all I want to say."
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"You can go to the bedroom," Anathema suggested helpfully, already heading over to open the door for them.
"Bedroom? That's just bloody perfect, innit? Come on then, angel. Let's go talk." The familiar pet name had come out without thinking, he didn't even realise it now. He walked over through the open door, waiting for Aziraphale to join them in the bedroom. Decorated by Anathema almost exclusively, he suspected, aside from maybe one or two posters on the wall. Good, Newt's taste was atrocious.
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He couldn't do this. His legs wouldn't move and he didn't want to be trapped alone with Crowley, explaining himself. He looked in the direction of the bathroom. If Dallen came back and he was in the bedroom with another man, it would be awfully unfortunate. Even so, he knew there was no way out of this. It was too late.
Swallowing hard, he stepped into the bedroom and shut the door, finding himself a nice, safe corner to back himself up with. "You look ... good." He awkwardly raised his hand, fiddling with his bowtie, feeling aggressively anxious. He knew he didn't look good, he had gained weight and everything. Dallen always liked to remind him.
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He didn't want to be rejected again. Why was he setting himself up like this? "You look gorgeous. Like always. Beautiful."
He reached up to take his glasses off, partially to seem more sincere and mostly because the light was really dim in here. Typical witch, those curtains were thick and the only light came from some fake candles. "I've missed you, angel."
He took a step closer towards him, looking at him with anticipation. Maybe Aziraphale would just admit that he'd missed him to.
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"You are too kind." He knew he was lying but it was nice. Kind words were something he felt lacking in these days and he wondered if it was really true. Like always? He didn't know he had ever looked 'gorgeous'.
Looking down, he swallowed hard. He hated this. He really hated it. He wanted to move back but he had cornered himself.
"I know I left things badly but I did what was right. There was no future, I'm afraid. I'm -- I'm still with the church and-and that is where I belong. And you, well, you don't... do you?" Never. Crowley wasn't one of them. He was an 'outsider'.
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Accept him. Love him. Just the way he was. Because Aziraphale wasn't like that insane religion. Aziraphale was caring, smart, funny, loving, so many things that made him wonderful. "You-- You made the world better, angel. For me. You've made me better. I got my life together for you. We could live it together. Ain't too late for that."
He held a hand out to him. "Come with me."
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"I have -- I have someone. We live together..." They did from the day of the mission on so it was just how it was. They kept the routine, played 'house', as Dallen joked. It wasn't perfect but it was enough.
"You can do better and... please, stop this." He didn't want to cry. He didn't.
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He snatched Aziraphale's hand suddenly, holding it in his. "You're still wearing my ring!"
Just as he exclaimed that, Anathema called something outside the door and then the door was opened by some guy who looked like the Mormon poster boy. The boyfriend, of course.
"Your ring?!" Dallen did not look happy. Obviously. "Who do you think you are? Stop touching him at once."
"Make me," Crowley fired back, sticking his tongue out maturely. Dallen was squaring up, but whatever. He didn't look like a fighter and he was no Gabriel, Crowley assumed he could take him.
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"Dallen, this is ... this is Crowley. An old friend. Crowley, this is--" He trailed off. Could he try friend for Crowley? Would it work? Probably not but he was trying. He gulped and eyed the doorway. "We should be leaving..."
Who was even we any more? He should just leave. This was too much, all too much. He moved to leave, maybe he could just run all the way back to the flat and hide in the closet. He had done it before, irony aside.
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"I don't want to go anywhere near you, fucking prick. But you can't keep me from him. We're old friends, didn't you hear?" Crowley mocked himself, them, the whole damn situation. "Aziraphale, are you kidding me with this clown?"
"Rather a clown than whatever you are supposed to be! What is that look, a mafia?" He knew little about organised crime, he wasn't allowed to consume media about that.
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He didn't want to upset him. Then it would be a disaster. Especially now he knew, especially now he had met Crowley, knew of him and knew what the ring meant.
With one last tug, Aziraphale tried his best to get to the door, not wanting to make this a bigger scene. "Lovely party, Anthema, we must be going!"
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Something about it all didn't sit well with Crowley. Nothing about it did. "Don't talk to him like that!"
"I'll talk to him any way I want. Go pray in a church, heathen." Not the slam-dunk Dallen thought it was, but he didn't realise that, he was prepared to walk out of there with his head held high.
Anathema felt bad, she truly did, but all she could do was mouth a 'sorry' to Aziraphale, there was no time for lengthy apologies or explanations. She pulled the bedroom door closed hastily, Crowley's voice ringing through, but muffled.
"Damn you, Aziraphale!" Anathema blinked, smiled pleasantly at her remaining party guests, and Dallen pulled Aziraphale away with a huff.