"I'm sober enough, angel!" Sober enough to yell and gesticulate, anyway, and how much more sober did he have to be? "I can hold my lick-- liksh-- Alcohol!" That was the one. He nodded to himself, then reached up to take his glasses off, trying to sober up a little. Folding them up, he looked at Aziraphale, his face showing his emotions plainly, raw and unfiltered. Mostly he looked pained. Saddened. "I get that you didn't want me, angel, that I wasn't worth it. Whatever."
He hated it, but he'd got the message. "But why would you want to be with that-- that berk?! He's the worst! He's some all American wannabe toothpaste model!"
"Crowley, please, you must sit. You are far too drunk for this." Aziraphale came forward on instinct, seeing how his former lover swayed. He looked so hurt and pained, he hated that so much. He held onto his arm and tugged him gently towards the nearest seat, worried he would fall otherwise. Once Crowley was sitting, Aziraphale dropped into a perch and looked up at Crowley.
Then he put his hands on his legs, trying to keep himself balanced. "Do you want some coffee? It would help..." He didn't know how to tell Crowley that he was worth a million Dallens but he felt it couldn't help, could it? It was all too late.
"I am exactly the right amount drunk for this," Crowley said - only slightly slurred. He tried to slide his glasses into his pocket, but they missed and fell to the ground instead. Crowley didn't notice. "I don't want coffee, angel." Crowley looked at Aziraphale, speaking very open, honest and vulnerable. He didn't have any pretence left right now. "I want you. I want my best friend back. My angel."
Why couldn't he just have him? "He's no good for you! I can-- I told Bill, I can tell! I know you, Aziraphale!"
"Well that is, uh, that is rather the point, my dear boy. Did you never consider that?" Aziraphale pointed out sadly before he reached out and picked up Crowley's glasses. With a sad sign, he pulled out his glasses cleaning cloth from his upper pocket and started to clean Crowley's glasses for him. "I can't... I can't do it, Crowley. I can't love you well, can I? Look at how it was. I'm not brave. I'm not -- I'm not half as daring as you. I'm a coward. A coward doesn't deserve what it can not rightfully and fairly earn."
And he couldn't earn Crowley, not in a million years. With the glasses cleaned, he neatly tucked them into Crowley's pocket. "You were always worth it. You were always perfection, my love. I was the one who was unworthy."
"That's not-- Look, I didn't have your restrictions on me. Takes a lot less to be out and proud when you're not standing to lose that much over it. People thought I was rubbish anyway." If anything, it had helped him gain things. Friendships that would last, that were better than family - not saying much in his case, but still. Knowing what love could be like. Painful, sure, but also better than anything else. "I just want you to be happy, angel. That's all I want. Are-- Are you happy?"
He didn't right now register what Aziraphale had called him, not properly. Dear boy. My love. Somewhere inside him it plucked a chord and his heart was singing, but his mind didn't put together why just yet. "He doesn't deserve you. That damned church, they don't deserve you! They are trying to ruin you!"
Was he happy? Aziraphale didn't really need to think about it. "I haven't been happy since I went on mission. I've had moments close to happiness, I've loved to bury myself in them and pretend but no, Crowley. No, I am not happy. It's hard to be happy when you've known utter bliss and walked away from it." He will never be happy that he left Crowley, that he hurt him, that he couldn't be worthy of him. It was a painful thing to know. "I do not love Dallen. It gets more and more obvious every day but I don't even..."
Aziraphale sighed and then slowly, he sat on the floor in front of Crowley and looked up at him, utterly distraught. "I don't know what to do, I --I can't... it's so complicated. I can't leave him. I don't know how. I don't know how to get away."
"What don't you know, angel? I-- My car is outside. We can leave right now. We can go anywhere you want. I don't care! You want to eat crepes in Paris? Want sushi in Kyoto? Anywhere in the world, I've got savings. We can leave!" He was going too fast again, putting on too much pressure, and he was inwardly screaming at himself to stop. To take it slowly, to reason carefully, to take his hands off of Aziraphale's shouder, his face... When had that happened?
"He's no good, is he? He hurt you!" Well, he'd seen him squeeze his arm, which Bill claimed proved nothing, but still. "I can't bloody stand the tosser!"
In the past, Aziraphale would have recoiled at the speed but lately, the way things were, he had lost all reason to stay. It was harder and every day, he doubted. Dallen was cruel to him, his family barely engaged and when they did, it was with lecturers not love and they were courting. Pretending. Lying. He couldn't do it any more, he really couldn't.
"You're too drunk to drive, my love. Otherwise, I wouldn't hesitate."
He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, taking a second to bask in it before he suddenly leaned in and kissed him. A big mistake. He shouldn't do that, for obvious reasons. He was dating someone, it was a gateway he shouldn't cross and Crowley was very drunk. Even so, he kissed him.
"Then, baby, you can drive my car," Crowley told Aziraphale, in full knowledge that he wouldn't get the Beatles reference but he'd at least understand how significant it was that he'd even consider letting him drive. And then he knew nothing and stopped thinking because Aziraphale was kissing him, he was kissing back, and things felt right again for the first time since Aziraphale had left him all those years ago.
Everything fell into place and the world was bright again, in the way that didn't hurt his eyes.
Pulling back, Aziraphale smiled sheepishly and then looked back over at the pile of books. "I have work tomorrow. And the books are in a disarray... I think running away to Paris is a bit of a fools errand. Perhaps not so far. Perhaps your apartment. Someone should take you home, after all, you're quite inebriated still."
With a smile, he raised his hand to brush Crowley's hair from his face, smiling a little at him. "Oh dear, I'm afraid I'm rash tonight, aren't I? Taking kisses and--and being impulsive. I did not realise how bad it has all been." Cause clearly it was.
"You need to be more rash. I always-- I always thought that deep down you had to be like that. Daring bastard. Just enough of one." Even if he hadn't been, back then. But now Crowley smiled a dopey smile he wasn't aware he had, cupping the side of Aziraphale's face as he looked down at him. "Stay with me. Stay at my place. I-- I'll get a bookshelf."
Whatever it'd take. "You'll like my place, it's got--" Very few things Aziraphale would like, he imagined. "--plants?" There was that.
Aziraphale smiled as he walked over to his work and started to slowly put the books back in order so he could get Crowley home. He didn't like to leave a mess behind, it seemed rude to his colleagues and besides, it was only polite to do so. "I can't promise anything, Crowley, please don't hold me to these things." He sighed as he finished with the last book. "But I want to try. I want to -- I just ... I miss you so much."
The only person in the world he wanted to be with was Crowley.
When Aziraphale finished with the last book, Crowley had just gotten to his feet - after finding them - and so he was literally caught with a hand down his pants, trying to get the key out. Elegant. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out, key successfully retrieved. Then he put his glasses back on at long last, looking at Aziraphale.
"I've been trying to get over you for three years. I've-- They've literally thrown blokes at me. Or me at blokes." It really had been literal a couple times, his friends were ruthless. "They're not you. So it's never right."
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He hated it, but he'd got the message. "But why would you want to be with that-- that berk?! He's the worst! He's some all American wannabe toothpaste model!"
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Then he put his hands on his legs, trying to keep himself balanced. "Do you want some coffee? It would help..." He didn't know how to tell Crowley that he was worth a million Dallens but he felt it couldn't help, could it? It was all too late.
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Why couldn't he just have him? "He's no good for you! I can-- I told Bill, I can tell! I know you, Aziraphale!"
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And he couldn't earn Crowley, not in a million years. With the glasses cleaned, he neatly tucked them into Crowley's pocket. "You were always worth it. You were always perfection, my love. I was the one who was unworthy."
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He didn't right now register what Aziraphale had called him, not properly. Dear boy. My love. Somewhere inside him it plucked a chord and his heart was singing, but his mind didn't put together why just yet. "He doesn't deserve you. That damned church, they don't deserve you! They are trying to ruin you!"
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Aziraphale sighed and then slowly, he sat on the floor in front of Crowley and looked up at him, utterly distraught. "I don't know what to do, I --I can't... it's so complicated. I can't leave him. I don't know how. I don't know how to get away."
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"He's no good, is he? He hurt you!" Well, he'd seen him squeeze his arm, which Bill claimed proved nothing, but still. "I can't bloody stand the tosser!"
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"You're too drunk to drive, my love. Otherwise, I wouldn't hesitate."
He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, taking a second to bask in it before he suddenly leaned in and kissed him. A big mistake. He shouldn't do that, for obvious reasons. He was dating someone, it was a gateway he shouldn't cross and Crowley was very drunk. Even so, he kissed him.
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Everything fell into place and the world was bright again, in the way that didn't hurt his eyes.
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With a smile, he raised his hand to brush Crowley's hair from his face, smiling a little at him. "Oh dear, I'm afraid I'm rash tonight, aren't I? Taking kisses and--and being impulsive. I did not realise how bad it has all been." Cause clearly it was.
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Whatever it'd take. "You'll like my place, it's got--" Very few things Aziraphale would like, he imagined. "--plants?" There was that.
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Aziraphale smiled as he walked over to his work and started to slowly put the books back in order so he could get Crowley home. He didn't like to leave a mess behind, it seemed rude to his colleagues and besides, it was only polite to do so. "I can't promise anything, Crowley, please don't hold me to these things." He sighed as he finished with the last book. "But I want to try. I want to -- I just ... I miss you so much."
The only person in the world he wanted to be with was Crowley.
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"I've been trying to get over you for three years. I've-- They've literally thrown blokes at me. Or me at blokes." It really had been literal a couple times, his friends were ruthless. "They're not you. So it's never right."