Happy Holidays, ofsnakesliesandkings!

[goe_mod]

Title: A Week Back in Tadfield

Summary: It'd been a really long time since Aziraphale had last stepped in his childhood town of Tadfield. He expected everything to be exactly how he'd left it, but of course some things are bound to be different.
Somehow, he hadn't expected to see Crowley again.

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, the Them, Deidre Young

Rating: Teen and up

Author note:
It's been an incredible experience participating in this year's gift exchange. Hope the recipient likes it! And a lot of thanks to Mindsh on AO3 for beta'ing my work!




Saturday—

There were many things Aziraphale remembered from his life in Tadfield growing up. The day they moved out, however, was not one of them. There was a hole where it should be; constant static that told him to look away whenever he got anywhere near it.

As he looked at the expanse of the living room, it was hard to reconcile the image of this house — one he didn’t know but was going to be staying at for a week — with the image of his childhood home, whose current owners he didn’t even know. His parents hadn’t kept in touch with the buyers and he’d never even met them. He didn’t know their surnames, and even if they’d told him, he would’ve surely forgotten what it was by now.

It was strange being back after so long, after a large portion of his adult life had passed.

Coming back, at least for just a week… was a rash decision on his part. Not in the sense that he regretted it (he didn’t; the idea of catching a break in such an old and familiar place when presented with the opportunity was more than alluring) but in the sense that he hadn’t given it much thought. Normally, he would’ve spent a few days mulling over his options before settling on a decision like that. It was almost out of character for him.

A part of him felt guilty whenever he thought about how his life in London made him feel. He had a stable, if soulless, job that let him live comfortably; he had a flat just big enough for him; and he lived in the heart of Soho, people always milling around him. He loved the establishments nearby and he even had some acquaintances from work and other places he frequented.

But no friends, not really. Each passing day, it felt like the city was running around him and leaving him lost.

During his commute to work one day, he heard a conversation on the street that piqued his interest.

A house available in Lower Tadfield. The owner had tried to sell it but nobody had taken the offer in over a year now. And why would they? Nobody ever moved into the village. They were desperate now, even willing to put it for rent as a holiday get-away. Hopefully that would attract more people and hopefully someone might be interested in buying it at the end, even if the chances were slim.

Aziraphale had jumped into the conversation. He had inquired about it, gotten the contact information, and as soon as he finished work, started coordinating details with the owner.

He wouldn’t be able to work while he was there, nor did he want to. But that was no problem, he had a couple weeks of vacations saved up. He could use one.

His boss had allowed it, and on Saturday of that same week, he was there, back in Tadfield. From what he’d seen so far, it stood like a little time capsule, untouched by the passage of time.

The town still looked as beautiful as he remembered, idyllic all around. A part of him had believed that to be a product of nostalgia, but it didn’t seem to be the case. Or at least, not entirely. It was like a calming aura had settled over him.

Blinking himself back to the present, and looking at the two suitcases he’d brought — one for his clothes and other essentials and another for his books — he was made painfully aware of the fact he hadn’t had anything to eat and the pantry, the owner told him, was empty.

He wouldn’t be able to unpack anything until he got some food in his stomach.

***

A con of the house was its position relative to the nearest market. Oh, it wasn’t too far away, of course, a completely walkable distance. But still, it was a 10-minute walk. He could’ve stopped at a cafe he saw on the way, but he knew if he did, he would spend the whole evening cooped up in there and not unpacking like he should be doing, and he would need to have something in his pantry for the night, anyway. It would be foolish to assume a café would be open at all times.

So he heaved a deep sigh and ignored it, as much as he would’ve liked to go in.

The market was just that, a market. Nothing that stood out from it, perfect conditions for simply buying what he ought and not stay for more than planned.

He peered from the fruit he was inspecting and saw a young boy — aged ten or eleven, but definitely not older — pocketing an apple in the stall next door, the old person manning the stall completely unaware of it.

He considered turning a blind eye; he hated people who accused others of stealing food. But the mischievous glint in the boy’s eyes gave him away. He knew that look.

He wouldn’t ignore him, but he also wouldn’t ‘rat him out’, as it were. Never a good idea to get into a prepubescent’s bad graces, even if you would never see them again.

“Hello, dear boy,” he said gently, now directly next to the boy in question, who was a few steps away from the stall now.

The boy turned around with a fake grin on his face. It would’ve even seemed real, but again, there was something so familiar about it, something that Aziraphale knew perfectly well to be the look of someone who was caught doing something he shouldn’t have. That and the flinch also wasn’t to the child’s favour.

“What’s up?” The boy said nonchalantly. Or tried to, anyway. Aziraphale could see right through it from years of practice.

He leaned in conspiratorially. “I happen to have noticed something in your pocket.”

The boy swallowed and his smile twitched. “Yeah?” His eyes darted to the seller attending to someone else and then back to Aziraphale.

“Yes,” he said and stopped for a breath. “Mind that I pay it for you?”

The boy stopped. He furrowed his eyebrows and searched his face.

“I’m not in trouble?”

“For what?” Aziraphale gave him his most sincere smile. “No need to worry, dear chap. I’ll get it for you this time, what do you say?”

The boy stared in silence for another moment, before breaking into a grin and handing him over the apple that was in his jacket’s pocket. “I like you. You’re not stupid like the other adults.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, but thank you. Now, if you don’t mind me…”

He called the owner over, had the apple bought, and before he knew it, the boy was dashing away with his newly-acquired apple to whoever knew where.

Aziraphale smiled at the disappearing figure.

“Must be new here, huh?” a voice spoke from behind him.

Aziraphale jumped. Is that how the child had felt?

“That’s Adam, always getting into trouble. Learnt from the best.”

The voice was near his shoulder now. He turned around.

And froze.

The man in front of him froze too, once his face came into view.

Aquiline nose, red hair, sunglasses, black clothes. It was as if nothing had changed from then and now.

“Crowley, is that you?”

Crowley’s — for there was no way it was anyone but him — mouth was still agape. He’d feel embarrassed at how long he’d been getting stared at if he didn’t completely understand what the other was feeling.

Finally, he seemed to regain his composure, for he said, “Aziraphale? Is that really you? Holy shit, it is you, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale was smiling now. “Yes, it is me.” He recalled what Crowley had said before. “Always getting into trouble like the best, I see? Is that what you do nowadays? Teaching younger generations to be as troublesome as you were growing up?”

Crowley shrugged. “Oh, you know, they gotta start from somewhere, do they not? Need to be taught by someone who’s good at it if he wants to have any success whatsoever.”

“And yet, I caught him immediately.”

“Wh– n– you don’t count! It’s like, you have a little alarm beeping on your brain any time someone’s causing trouble! Nobody else is like that, it’s uncanny, I swear.”

Aziraphale shook his head lightly, a retort on his tongue. He couldn’t believe how fast they had gone back to their usual banter, as if no time had passed despite the decades since they last saw each other or talked, but he wasn’t going to question it now. Not when it was going perfectly. “No, it was just you being obvious.” He looked behind him at the rest of the stalls and at his nearly empty bag. “As much as I’d like to just stand here talking, I don’t think I’ll buy much that way.” He smiled kindly.

Crowley nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah, right, ‘course. Do you mind if I…”

“Oh, of course. Didn’t say we had to stop talking.”

Crowley smiled again and they walked in the same direction, never seizing conversation.

“So you just moved here?” Crowley said from his left side, slightly behind where he followed Aziraphale.

“Renting until Friday next week. Caught me on the first day.”

“Yeah? How’s the town treating you so far?”

“Well, I’m not so sure about the town,” Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, “but I’d say the welcome has been quite good.”

Crowley grinned.

***

Crowley’s house was the nearest one to the market, only a couple minutes south. They’d agreed to head there first, so that Crowley could leave his things. Upon hearing that Aziraphale still hadn’t been able to unpack his books, Crowley had insisted on lending a hand*, and Aziraphale could do nothing but relent, with the compromise of going to Crowley’s first.

*”For purely my own benefit, you see? If I help you now, you’ll have to pay me back later somehow.”
Aziraphale chose not to respond with a “So you can see me again, you mean”. It felt preposterous to say, somehow. He was the one who left, after all.

***

The house… Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been the same house Crowley had grown up in.

Aziraphale had never been inside before, and it suddenly felt a bit too much to be doing it now.

He opted to look at the garage instead — that felt safer to do. He wondered what kind of car Crowley owned. Nothing bland would do, he was sure. He never would settle for anything less than the best, anything less than what he strived for.

He wondered why he was still in Tadfield.

Crowley must’ve caught something in his expression, for he stopped after fumbling with his keys and inserting them, and said with an audible grin, “Oh, I haven’t introduced you yet.”

Aziraphale looked back at him, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

“Just wait there a bit, gotta leave these things,” he raised his arm filled with bags, “first. Don’t go anywhere.”

And so he stood, a newcomer at the front door of a house he’d only seen from afar and couldn’t even bring himself to enter now, the only sound breaking his thoughts was the chirping of birds.

He felt very small.

A few minutes later, the garage door began to open.

Aziraphale didn’t move as it went up, little by little revealing a figure leaning against a car.

Crowley, car keys dangling from his hands, back supported by the Bentley–

Bentley?!

He gasped. His mouth was agape. It was clear from the grin growing even further on Crowley’s face that he did not fail to notice his reaction.

“Remember her?” He twirled the keys once more.

“Is that…”

“The one and only.” He clasped the keys and patted the hood with his other hand. “Grandad told me I’d have her and here she is! Been caring for her for, oh, a little over two decades now? Two and a half?” He seemed increasingly distressed at the reminder of the passage of time. Aziraphale empathised. Crowley recovered quickly. “She’s my pride and joy.”

Giddiness once again overtook him, putting aside the passage of time as well. “Oh Crowley, that's wonderful! You always loved this car so much. I’m glad it’s yours now.”

He never would settle for anything less than the best, Aziraphale reminded himself, anything less than what he strived for.

He doesn’t know why he even questioned what he’d have.

Crowley pushed himself to a straighter position. “Want me to give you a lift?”

Aziraphale hadn’t noticed having walked over until he was met with those words, Crowley’s gaze — even through the sunglasses — piercing directly into him, a couple metres separating him from Crowley and the car.

His heart rate picked up.

It was probably because of how fast Crowley used to drive his bicycle growing up. Who knew how fast he’d drive with an actual motor backing him up.

Yes, that was probably it.

Revisiting any other feelings right now would be too much for him.

His mouth was dry. “All right.” He nodded imperceptibly. “Yes.”

Crowley looked unconvinced, head tilted just a little, gaze never leaving him.

He nodded more decisively. “Yes, I’d quite like that, if you don’t mind. A lift.”

Crowley went to the other side of the Bentley and opened the door for him, nodding towards the passenger seat. “Come on, then.”

Yes, it was the driving speed, definitely, which made his heart pick up faster. Nothing else.

He took a few steps forward and got in.

***

Aziraphale didn’t know what he was doing there. He should be home, or at least anywhere else but there. They could easily get caught if they weren’t careful. He should’ve backed down when he had the chance. He–

“Shh, stop that, your thoughts are too loud!”

Tony’s whisper brought him back to the present.

“But–!”

“Shhhh.” Tony brought his finger to Aziraphale’s mouth. “Look.”

Aziraphale didn’t want to look. Anyone could approach and look over the bush they were hiding behind. It would be so easy. Their parents would be mad if they saw them being friends. This was stupid. Ridiculous. Why would Tony even bring them there in the first place? He wanted to be reading, not… not whatever this was. He didn’t want to look.

But he did. He couldn’t not with how Tony’s eyes lit up, looking at whatever was on the other side of their hiding spot, hand back by his side now.

A car. An old car. The types you only saw in black-and-white movies or books with drawings about old times. It was black and shiny and Aziraphale was mesmerised.

Tony looked back at him. “See?”

“What…”

“‘S my grandad’s. Wanna have it some day.”

He looked back at Tony.

“Rode with grandad once. Been tryina get him to take me again. Mum doesn’t let me.”

“Why not?”

Tony hummed with a shrug. Then his eyes flew open. “Duck!”

Aziraphale curled into a ball and waited for the moment to pass.

“False alarm! Let’s go.”

Tony stood up and held out his hand.

He took it.

“Where to?”

Tony grinned. “Dunno.”

***

“We’re here.”

Aziraphale shook his thoughts off. “Already?”

“‘S a quick drive.” Crowley didn’t move his head, but Aziraphale could feel those eyes on him now. “Penny for your thoughts? You were a bit quiet.”

“Ah, right. Sorry. No, nothing important. I was thinking about this car, actually.”

“Really?”

“Or– well,” Aziraphale tried again, getting nervous for no particular reason. “It’s going to sound stupid but…”

Crowley turned fully to him, resting his elbow on the steering wheel.

“I remember when you… how did you put it back there? When you introduced it to me. The first time around, I mean. How old were we, do you know? Seven? Eight?”

“Ehhh probably around that, not sure.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was terrified? Thought they would catch me there and we’d get in serious trouble.”

Crowley snorted and shook his head lightly, a grin plastered on his face. “Don’t doubt it.”

A moment passed.

Crowley’s seatbelt clicked off. “Anyway, off we go! Those boxes won’t unpack by themselves.”

***

“Okay, so what’d ya got?” Crowley said while taking off his jacket. Aziraphale did the same.

“Oh, I was actually planning on eating something first, before starting. Forgot to pack lunch, you see.”

Crowley stared at him incredulously. “We were just at my place. I could’ve prepped something real fast.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale stood up straight and looked away, heading for the kitchen. “I knew if I stayed out to eat, I would never get this done. It’s why I didn’t go to a cafe.”

Crowley stayed behind him for a second or two, probably staring, before following him into the room. “Fair enough. Show me what you got.”

Now it was Aziraphale's turn to stare. “You were there when I bought the food.”

“Well, sorry, I was, oh I don’t know, kinda catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen in ages? Give me a break.”

Despite his words, he was smiling, and soon Aziraphale realised he had started to smile too. He cleared his throat and set the bags on the counter.

“Well, I bought some fruit; that ought to last me a couple days.” He opened the first bag and looked inside. “I also bought uh, bread, of course, can never go wrong with bread.” He looked into another bag and his eyes scanned the items. “And some vegetables. Tomatoes, courgette, lettuce. Also some cheese.” He looked up. “Nothing that would require much preparation. It would defeat the purpose, I think. Would a sandwich be all right?”

“Smart.” There was some barely contained laughter in his expression. “And yeah, sandwiches are good.”

“What is it?”

“You called tomatoes a vegetable. They're a fruit.”

“Oh, you– semantics, you know what I mean. Plants you wouldn't put in a fruit salad. Edible plants,” he quickly clarified, else Crowley twisted it on him again.

But of course, Crowley was Crowley. “So potatoes are a vegetable now, too? It's a plant you wouldn't put in a fruit salad.”

“Potatoes are vegetables, though. Tubers are vegetables. What did you think they were?”

Crowley grunted dismissively. A win for him, then.

“I suppose we should free up the counter now?” he said. “Put away what we aren’t going to use?”

“On it.”

“I think there must be some paper plates in here somewhere… Or well, we could try to find the box with the plates and utensils, if you’d like.”

“Nah, don’t mind,” said Crowley, having found the paper plates somewhere. “Can do that later. ‘S not like I’ve never had to eat like that before.”

As Aziraphale took out the food, Crowley spoke again.

“You know, you could come over some other time to eat. You’re only here for a week, right? Let’s make the best of it. What’d you say we go somewhere tomorrow? It's Saturday, so it's not like I have to work. It’ll save you the hassle of only eating food like that for the next few days.”

His mouth went dry. Aziraphale wanted to accept so badly, but he hadn’t had many friends since he first moved out of Tadfield and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and mess it up, end up pushing him away. Again.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said instead, even though he very much did.

“Nah, seriously. Would rather have someone to lunch with than be bored out of my mind, and I doubt you’ll wanna stay bottled up in here unpacking all day, right? I’ll introduce you to some new places, come on!”

Aziraphale was ready to agree — his resolve was a fickle thing, after all, only there to put up an image he wasn’t willing to hold up — but then the phrasing hit him.

“New places?” He swallowed, mouth faltering. “Like what?” His mind was already running. Of course things changed with time; that’s what time did. Of course there would be new places in town. And Crowley worked too, now. It made sense, of course he worked, Aziraphale did too. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It shouldn't affect him.

And yet…

Crowley must have picked up on his tone of voice or expression because he took on a reassuring tone. “Hey,” he said carefully, “it’s fine. We don’t have to go anywhere you don’t wanna go, not all at once, at least. It’s not like a lot of things have changed, just a bit, you know? What about we go to our old spot, hm? Haven’t been there in ages too. Bring back memories. Perhaps I could bring along some food?”

“A picnic?” he asked uncertainly.

“Sure, if you wanna call it that. My treat.”

Aziraphale could feel himself starting to smile again. After a beat, he nodded. “All right, yes. I’d like that.”

***

With Crowley’s help, they’d managed to put all the books in their proper place. In the grand scheme of things, it hadn’t been much. The living room was starting to feel more… well, livable now, with that touch that made the place more his. Most of the time, they’d spent it arguing light-heartedly at each other’s organisational methods. The rest of the time, when they took breaks neither truly needed, they spent it talking. Joking, mostly, still high from kicking it off with an old friend after so long. It almost didn’t feel real, but he knew himself enough to know his brain wouldn’t have been able to come up with something like that.

They’d dragged it on for as long as possible. They stayed until sundown, until Aziraphale felt guilty enough about having kept him all day — no matter how happy the other had been — and bid him farewell. Until Crowley confirmed their plans for the next day and reluctantly waved goodbye.

And now, the next day at noon, Aziraphale was about to have a picnic with Crowley at the place where they always used to meet up.

---

Aziraphale was kneeling on leaves and sticks, reading the book he took out of his backpack. Or more accurately, he was kneeling on Tony’s jacket, which the boy had thrown his way before flopping down on the earth next to him. He’d wanted to work on his schoolwork, but Tony had convinced him to do nothing for a bit, that he could do whatever work he wanted when he was back at his house. Aziraphale didn’t argue the point. They didn’t get to see each other much in school, not a small part because his parents had made it more than clear that they didn’t want to see or hear about him hanging around with ‘that Crowley boy’ anymore after they’d seen them coming out of school together. Meaning, their time just being around each other was limited. He’d managed to convince them that he was staying with some other friends, or that he was at the school library, but he didn’t know if it would always work.

It didn’t make sense. He was eleven. He should’ve been able to decide who he wanted to hang around with.

Well, he had been doing that for quite a few years now, but they didn’t know about it so it didn’t count.

So for now, he was reading next to Tony, who was lounging on the ground, limbs spread out in all directions, looking up at the canopy, lost in thought.

“Hey, Aziraphale?” He said after a moment.

“Hm?”

“You ever think someone else is gonna find this place?”

He looked up from his book, finger marking the page he was on. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He waved his hand around at the sky. “You know. In the future. When we’re no longer here. Some other kids. You think others will find this spot too?”

He stopped to think, looking up. “Well, maybe. Why do you ask?”

Tony shrugged awkwardly against the grass. “Just a thought.”

The moment felt tense now, though Aziraphale couldn’t say why. He had a harder time getting back into his book.

Tony shoved him.

“Hey! What was that about?”

Tony flashed him a grin. “Just bored. Come on, let’s do something.”

And like that, the tense moment disappeared.

***

Sunday—

They met in the middle. Crowley had the basket he’d packed and received him with a smile.

As much as Aziraphale was nervous, he was also looking forward to it. Looking forward to seeing the place they had once called their own.

Despite not having been there for so many decades, neither had to think when walking to their spot. It was an automatic motion, side by side, through the same forest they’d always seen. Crowley had been right; he had needed to go out. This felt refreshing in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

That feeling changed when they found something in their spot. A wooden shack of sorts, and near it, a group of kids playing around, one of them the child he found the day — Adam, Crowley said he was.

“Of course,” Crowley grumbled under his breath. “I knew they came to Hogback Woods, sure, but did they seriously have to pick this place?”

“They’ve made a home of it.” Aziraphale smiled sweetly.

He could feel Crowley’s gaze on him now, but he didn’t dare meet it. Instead, he focused more deeply on the kids, until Adam spotted them.

“Hey! You’re the guy who bought me the apple!”

The rest of his friends turned to them. Now the centre of attention, his mouth went dry. Crowley, on the other hand, seemed in his element. From the corner of his eye, he caught how he leaned his hips and put his hands in his trousers’ pockets, holding the basket by the crook of his elbow, head tilted at an angle.

“What are you doing there just standing? Come here, you weirdo.”

“Is that what you call your godfather?” Crowley dared, eyebrows raising above his glasses.

Aziraphale snapped back in an instant. “Godfather?” he nearly yelped. “You’re– that’s your godson? How did that even happen?” He scrunched up his expression. “Hold on, are you religious?”

“Nah,” Crowley said and started walking.

“But– godparents… weren’t they…?”

Realising nothing was going to come out from that line of questioning, Aziraphale shook his head and followed behind him.

“Is that a picnic basket?” Adam — Crowley’s godson, because that was a thing now, apparently — asked as soon as they were close enough to them. “Were you gonna have a picnic? Why here, though? This is our spot.”

“Well, this was our spot first, I’ll have you know,” Crowley said with a defiant tone. “Before you–” here he extracted his empty hand from his pocket and pointed at the four children “–were even born. When we were your age.” He grimaced. “Ugh, I can’t believe I just said that. I sound old, Aziraphale. I’m not old, am I?” He turned to him with a pleading expression. And it might've even been effective if he hadn’t been wearing his sunglasses.

Aziraphale chose to ignore him.

“Really?” The kid said.

“Yes,” Aziraphale’s voice was more placating than Crowley’s had been. “I guess we got… nostalgic, is all. No need to worry, you kids.” His gaze went back to the… shack? Ground tree house? Lair. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Very homey.”

“Thanks!” Adam beamed and then pulled on his jacket sleeve, bringing him closer to his friends. He could hear Crowley behind them groaning, as well as the crunching of leaves as he followed. He started pointing at each of his friends and reciting their names “This is Pepper, that one’s Wensleydale, and that’s Brian, and that one…” he pointed at a small dog he hadn’t noticed before, “is Dog.”

“Interesting name for a dog.”

“Yeah, I just thought, why go through all the trouble of coming up with a name and all when this is much easier? No need to memorise it, that way.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said slowly, gaze flickering through each member of the little group. “Well, you can keep at it, I think. We could just go somewhere else.” He threw an uncertain gaze at Crowley.

Crowley’s mouth was pursed but he immediately adjusted the basket properly.

“Nah, don’t worry,” Adam said. “We’re leaving, anyway. Finished playing. You can stay.”

The girl, Pepper — the only name besides Dog’s and Adam’s that he was likely to remember — looked at him with her mouth set. “What? No, we were here already. Why would we give the place to them?”

Her protest was met with a long look by Adam. “It was our turn, now it’s theirs. ‘S only fair, I think. Come on.”

No one else protested.

Adam waved at Aziraphale and Crowley, Dog sprinting after him. “Bye!”

“Goodbye Mr. Adam’s godfather and Mr. Newcomer,” said the one with the glasses — Aziraphale was right, he had already forgotten the other boys’ names.

“Bye,” said the other boy, lazily following along.

The girl glared at them. “Goodbye.”

Once the kids were completely out of earshot, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and offered a gentle smile. “Well, they were nice, weren’t they?”

Crowley snorted, certainly misunderstanding him somehow.

Aziraphale fixed him with a look and clarified, “How thoughtful of dear Adam, to lend us this place on such short notice.”

“Don’t believe him, he’s only trying to get into your good graces so you’re easier to prank. Also, don’t talk as if he were a businessman who decided to humour you by giving you the time of day, he’s just a kid.”

“There’s nothing ‘just’ about that.”

“Whatever.” Crowley looked around, no doubt working out where to set the basket. “He’s just a menace, you’ll find out.”

“You mean, as much of a menace as you?”

Crowley ignored him, having found a place level enough to start setting up the things.

“I know this wasn’t what you were expecting,” he said finally. “It wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“It’s all right.” Aziraphale smiled wistfully. “I truly enjoy what they’ve done here. The life they’ve brought to this place in our absence.”

Truth be told, Aziraphale was happy, but it was hard to accept that this place was the same one they had grouped up in. Sure, they managed to find the spot without any trouble — the trees were practically the same, not counting the inevitable few that had fallen long ago or the small ones that were just beginning to grow — but…

“Talking about bringing life here, did you know this used to be a bomb crater? Or well, is, just covered with plants now. From back in World War II.”

“Really?” His eyes grew in size, properly distracted from his melancholic mood.

“Yeah, overheard it a couple years ago. Don’t remember how.”

Aziraphale eyed the surroundings in a new light. “Talk about nature healing, indeed.”

“Anyway, just sit down. We came here to eat, not to talk standing. We could do that literally anywhere else.”

Aziraphale chuckled but complied.

***

Monday—

Aziraphale should’ve probably planned his week off better. Saturday and Sunday had been a delight, but now that Monday had come, he had no idea what he would be doing for the rest of the week.

He could’ve decided to work online to save up the break for another time, but the thought of not only bringing but starting up his portable computer and work sounded miserable. The day outside was very beautiful as well. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to sit down and work with all the beauty around him, not too say anything of how tired he felt.

He spent most of the morning reading on the porch, enjoying the way the sunlight hit him and the soft breeze of an ever-approaching autumn.

In London, he would’ve been cooped up in a cubicle, and the skies would’ve been as dark as they always were. Maybe it would rain, maybe it wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have had this.

He’d missed it.

He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed it.

At around lunchtime, he finally stood up. Yes, he’d bought some vegetables that first day in town, the day he crossed Crowley by chance, but there was no obligation for him to eat them yet. They could wait. He still hadn’t been given a tour of the village yet. He wondered if anything had opened in the time he was away, or if it was as small as it had always been.

-

There was a new — at least to him — small plant store around town. He’d never had a green thumb, try as he might, but he could do with something small and easy to transport. It would help spruce up the place, make it feel more his, a little bit less lonely. If he didn’t kill it, he might even bring it back to London.

Or not. He could always just browse and decide later.

The shop bell rang when he walked through the door. A familiar figure was at the other side of the store, looking away from him.

“Sorry, gonna close up for lunch break,” the figure says. And, despite all odds, he’d managed to find the one store in which Crowley worked at.

He grinned. “Oh, that’s all right, then. Don’t let me stop you.”

Crowley snapped around so fast Aziraphale might’ve been concerned in some other situation. Now, however, it simply made him swallow back a laugh.

“Nevermind, then. What are you doing here? I didn’t tell you where I worked, did I?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“No, you didn’t. Would you believe me if I told you I found it completely by accident? I was actually meaning to browse around for something I might not kill by accident.”

Crowley grimaced. “Yeah, I can believe that. That bad at plants?”

“The worst.” He looked at the shop, every plant as far as he could see in neat condition. “And I take it you’re the complete opposite in that aspect?”

“Yes, you see, I have a secret technique called ‘being disappointed at them until they look perfect’. Works wonders, honestly. Don’t see how the rest of the world isn’t exploiting that already.”

“I couldn’t possibly imagine why,” he said lightly. “But still, you do seem to have a green thumb, morally dubious techniques set aside.”

Crowley laughed. “Okay sure, but I actually need to close up shop for my lunch break, ‘morally dubious’ conversation aside.”

“Well, I’m currently not busy. Wouldn’t mind eating something.”

“Great. Care to join me?”

They had only just stepped out of the store after Crowley started to close up when they were interrupted by someone.

“Oh, Crowley! Glad to catch you! You’re leaving for lunch?”

The speaker was a woman, seemingly around their age. She had blonde hair cut in a bob.

“Deidre!” Crowley turned around, smiling. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he drawled sarcastically. “Did Adam get in trouble again? If so, wasn’t me.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a light frown, hoping his confusion was apparent.

Crowley caught it, for he turned his attention to him. “Ah, yes. This is Aziraphale. Deidre Young, Aziraphale. She’s Adam’s mother, if you couldn’t guess.”

“I see.” Though he was mostly focused on the way her eyes lit up when she heard that name, as if recognition had struck her. He tested a theory. “Crowley and I knew each other from childhood.”

“Oh, I know,” Deidre said.

Bullseye.

“Ngh, yeah, well,” Crowley sputtered. “Kinda hard to speak about your past without mentioning some people at some point, you know? Only fair your name’s come up before, once or twice.”

“I’m pretty sure it was more than ‘once or twice’,” Ms. Young said nicely.

“Ah.” Aziraphale didn’t know whether to feel proud or flustered or embarrassed. “Yes, I suppose that’s bound to happen, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Young looked like she was about to say something but after a quick glance at his left, she thought it better and closed her mouth. She shook her head. “Anyway, I came to ask if you would want to come for dinner tomorrow? It’s been a couple weeks since the last time.” She turned to Aziraphale. “And now that you’re here, we could even get to know you a little. What do you think?”

Aziraphale immediately turned to refuse, on impulse. “Oh, no, I don’t want to tr–”

“Sure,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley only raised his eyebrows in his direction.

“Yes,” he conceded. “I would like to join you, if you don’t mind.”

“Perfect! I’ll let Arthur and Adam know to expect you too. I must be getting on now. See you tomorrow at seven?”

“Sure, see ya.”

Aziraphale and Crowley stayed in place as she walked away.

“So,” Aziraphale broke the silence. “Where do they live? Don’t think I caught that.”

“Oh, I’ll take you there, don’t worry,” Crowley said distractedly, struggling to put his keys inside the front pockets of his trousers — and unsurprisingly so, that it even had real pockets to begin with was a shock.

“I know. I’m just curious, is all. They weren’t around when we were young, so I wondered…”

Crowley stilled.

“What is it?”

“Shit.”

Aziraphale was worried now. His hands started fidgeting. “Crowley? What’s wrong? Did anything…”

“Shit, no, nothing happened, I just.” He took a deep breath. “Forgot to mention something.”

“Which is?”

“They live in your old house.”

***

As much as he tried not to show it, his nerves ended up slipping into their lunch. Crowley, oh the poor dear, had done his best to distract him, but it hadn’t worked for long. He still appreciated it, though. It brought a smile to his face, seeing how his friend still cared about his comfort.

And they were still friends. Despite how they had broken off that day, there was not a hint of doubt as to the fact they were still friends.

Eventually, Crowley sighed. “Aziraphale.”

“Hm?”

“Remember what I said? You don’t have to go anywhere. If you don’t wanna go, there’s no one obliging you.”

He wet his lips. “But she invited me.”

“And she’ll understand if you decide not to go. I’ll still be going, so don’t feel guilty there. It’s your holiday. Just do whatever you want. Not like there’s a secret code or anything to these things.”

Aziraphale stared at him, raising one eyebrow. “Maybe not here, but in London, there is. Very much so.”

Crowley made a noise at the back of his throat. “Nyeah well. Still. M’point stands. Your break, your rules.”

Aziraphale considered this. He did want to meet the people who decided Crowley would be a good godparent, of all things, but the thought of seeing what they’d changed to what used to be his house… somehow, it was different from when they found the children. In that case, the children had found a place the two of them had once loved and turned it into a home.

But of his house, the only part he had ever truly loved was his bedroom. Somehow, thinking that someone had made it theirs felt off.

“Maybe you're right.” He paused to look at him. “But I do really want to go.” Crowley tried to protest but he held on. “They seem like nice people. I’m sure I could overlook the whole situation for a while? Maybe I could show up and decide if I want to stay for dinner when I’m already there? Just say a quick hello.”

“Whatever you want.”

Those words might have seemed cutting had anyone else said them, but Aziraphale knew that when Crowley said it, he meant it. He wanted Aziraphale to do what he truly wanted — had always done so, despite the circumstances.

He smiled this time, his fears finally slipping as his shoulders untensed.

“I have to head back soon. To the shop.”

His smile wobbled for a fraction of a second and he could only hope Crowley hadn’t noticed it when he regained his smile and nodded. “That’s all right. I suppose I should get going too.”

He didn’t want to end the afternoon so soon.

Crowley frowned. “I mean,” he drawled, “the shop isn’t too far away from here. Could pop down for a while, right?”

“I suppose I could, yes.”

“So?”

He looked around them. A force of habit he wasn’t aware he still had.

“You seriously wouldn’t mind?” Aziraphale asked tentatively.

“Why d’you think I would? I’m inviting you. Don’t know what you could do there, I don’t exactly have books lying around, but you don’t have to stay for too long.” He smirked. “I saw all the books you brought. Know you’re probably gonna be wriggling out of your skin to read them.”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Oh, they’re nothing I haven’t read before. They’re for comfort reading. Only brought my favourites with me. Could hold off for a while.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot out of his sunglasses. “They’re only your favourites? Holy shit. Just how many books do you have? Those were able to fill up two bookcases!”

He smiled ominously. “Many more.”

***

Tuesday—

Seven hit, and Crowley arrived to pick him up.

“Weren’t we supposed to be there at seven?” he said as he climbed inside.

“With this car?” Crowley grinned. “We will.”

Now seated in the passenger seat, his fingers picked at the fabric of his coat, eyes gazing at the gentle pluck to calm his nerves.

Soon enough, though, he had other things to focus on. Mainly, the speed at which they were going.

“Crowley!” he shrieked, gripping the door with one hand. “What are you doing?!”

“You wanted to be there at seven, right?”

“But that’s not what I – just!” A curb. “You’ll hit something!” Another. “Someone!” He clenched his eyes shut. “Stop!”

He lurched forward. Nothing moved. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his breath shaky as he tried to regain it.

“We’re here,” Crowley said innocently and Aziraphale shot him a look.

“You–” He was going to strangle him. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to squeeze the life out of him.

“Hey! You didn’t wanna be late, right? It’s seven o’clock. Come on. And hey, at least you aren’t tearing your coat apart anymore.”

In any other situation, Aziraphale would’ve exploded, but Crowley was right. Not regarding his reasons for going that fast and scaring the living daylights out of him, but at least his previous nerves had been replaced. Besides, if they got into a fight now, the family inside the house would look at them and know. Better to accept it with grace and move on.

He still glared at him a second longer as Crowley got out of his car. He was reaching for his handle when the door opened for him.

Oh. Aziraphale felt his expression soften for a second at the image in front of him.

Crowley, yellow light tracing his figure, stepping aside to let him pass, smiling in a way others who didn’t know him well would confuse as confident, but Aziraphale knew better. His uncovered eyes gave him away.

No. He pursed his lips. At least it would do to pretend he was still mad.

Crowley cackled, and the last of his protests disappeared from Aziraphale. He let a smile appear on his face.

The outside was still mostly the same as it always was. Maybe some plants had changed but he couldn’t be sure in the dark. The steps were also the same.

They stood in front of the door for a second and Crowley brought his hand up to knock.

It barely made contact with the wood before it swung open and revealed a very excited Adam and Dog in tow.

The sight of him made Aziraphale smile.

“Mum! Uncle Crowley and his friend are here!”

“Let them in!” Mrs. Young’s voice sounded from inside the house.

The interior, in contrast to the exterior, looked very different from what he remembered. He swallowed as his eyes slid around the living room. It wasn’t modern, thank God for that, but no piece of furniture was the same, and somehow, they’d managed to scramble the insides enough that no muscle memory that he may have retained would’ve helped him.

A hand brushed his arm and his attention went to Crowley, already starting to move towards the other person in the room.

Right. The other person. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed them yet, preoccupied with reading something — he could understand that better than anyone. He could still make a proper entrance.

“Arthur!” Crowley called.

Mr. Young looked up but didn’t move. “Hello.” His eyes stopped on Aziraphale. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Ah, Aziraphale.”

“Oh, now I remember. Crowley’s mentioned you before.”

Crowley shot him a look and plopped inelegantly on a couch. Aziraphale soon followed.

Dog immediately started pawing at his legs.

“Dog!” Adam commanded. “Down!”

Aziraphale smiled and scratched his head, which only incentivized Dog to keep going. “I don’t mind.”

“But I have to train him! That’s what my dad said. So, sit!”

Surprisingly, Dog did. But now he looked at Aziraphale with big hopeful eyes and a wagging tail.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have a treat for you,” Aziraphale said before scratching his head one last time. “Perhaps your owner does?”

His ears perked up and, in an instant, Dog was over Adam, paws on his legs and wagging his tail at him.

“Hey! No! Sit.” Despite Adam’s words, he was smiling.

From the kitchen, Mrs. Young spoke, “Adam, could you give Aziraphale a tour of the house? I imagine he’d like to see the changes.”

Crowley shot him a panicked look, partially hidden by the sunglasses once again on his face, but Aziraphale knew it was there. He tried to reassure him with a smile.

“Sure!”

Reluctantly, Aziraphale stood and let himself be guided by the boy and his dog.

“You used to live here, right?” he said as they were walking.

Aziraphale perked up. “Uh, yes, I did.”

“Good, don’t have to show you where the bathrooms are, then."

“No… I suppose not.”

There wasn’t much to see downstairs that he hadn’t seen already, except the kitchen, so Adam led him up the staircase into the second floor.

“Dunno why mum told me to show you around. I mean, it was your house. You know where everything is.”

“Yes… I don’t get it either,” he said while his eyes took everything around him in.

“Anyway this is the corridor to the bedrooms and that’s mine.” He pointed at the one in the middle.

Aziraphale’s old bedroom.

“I have the best toys. I bet you didn’t have things like them growing up. It was so boring then, with black and white telly and stuff.”

“I grew up with colour television, you know?” he said gently.

Adam looked him up and down, a hint of a smile. “Sure.”

Aziraphale gasped. “You little rascal! You’re calling me old on purpose!”

The boy grinned and opened his bedroom door.

The bed was made, but that was about it. His desk had school supplies scattered everywhere, and on the shelf at the opposite side of the room, many things were strewn about, too. Some toys were splayed out on the floor. He couldn’t tell what most of them were.

Adam was right. He hadn’t had toys like that growing up. Partly because of how much time had passed between then and now, and partly because he’d never had much interest in toys. He preferred reading. As soon as he was able to read a book, he ditched his toys. His parents had been proud of how easily and readily he picked up reading, but when he started to grow distant from his peers because of it, they started to get worried. Tried getting him toys to see what would stick, tried setting up playdates with the other kids his age, but neither worked. It had clearly begun to put a wedge between them.

The only one who didn’t care much about his reading sprees had been Crowley. He would often ask him what he was reading, or just be near him while he did his own thing.

He never threw away a book he was reading.

“What’s wrong?” Adam said, forehead scrunched in a way that showed more confusion than actual concern.

He blinked away tears before they could fall down and smiled. “Nothing, you’re right, I didn’t have nearly as many toys. Do you have a favourite?”

Adam clearly didn’t believe him, and by the looks of it, neither did Dog. But he shrugged and let it go. Good. It’s not a child’s job to tend to his emotions.

“The spaceship is cool. Lights up and makes noises if you press it. But I don’t know. Use them to come up with ideas for games with my friends, mostly. Or to write comics. Do you like comics?” One look at Aziraphale and he shook his head. “Hm. No, you don’t look like you do. Anyway, let’s go down now. Mum’s probably finished.”

Like Adam had predicted, she’d already finished and was now bringing the food to the table with the help of Crowley by the time Aziraphale and Adam (followed by Dog) showed up.

“Hi, I couldn’t greet you before properly. Did you like the tour?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded once. “Adam is a very good tour guide, I must admit.”

Crowley approached him and leaned to discreetly whisper, “you good?”

He nodded distractedly.

“So are you staying for dinner, Aziraphale?”

He could feel Crowley’s gaze on him. Of course he’d informed her. She’d probably thought giving him a tour of the house would help him relax, though he couldn’t figure out how.

“Ah, I…” He swallowed. “I suppose I could do with some dinner. It looks delicious.”

Mrs. Young smiled.

In all honesty, he hadn’t even looked at the food properly, and he wasn’t sure that the hollow feeling in his stomach was truly due to hunger.

Crowley squeezed his arm then let go to sit. He sat next to him.

***

They didn’t stay for long after dinner. As soon as they finished eating and helped bring the dishes to the kitchen, they said their goodbyes. It was Crowley who cut the evening early, saying some excuse or another that Aziraphale could no longer remember.

He had managed to slip into the conversation and even talk about himself at points. Mostly, he just answered questions and put food into his mouth that he didn’t need as he let the conversation flow around him.

Crowley had caught on, and now they were inside his Bentley, pulling out of the driveway.

They didn’t speak much during the ride. Not until they stopped in front of Aziraphale’s place and Crowley turned to him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The concern in his voice made something squeeze in his chest and his eyes grew warm.

“I’ll be fine. It was just the shock of the moment.” His throat squeezed tight. “I didn’t leave the best first impression on them, I’m afraid. I was too quiet. Not sure the husband liked me.”

“Bullshit. You were the correct amount of talkative. Arthur is just like that, doesn’t know exactly how to lead a conversation. You did perfectly.”

His chest grew warm at the admission and he couldn’t restrain his eyes from smiling. An all-too-familiar sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time.

That, above all, scared him.

***

Aziraphale knew that Tony — no, Crowley now — liked him. He’d known for a couple years now, since they were thirteen. And there was no doubt in his mind that Crowley knew that he was aware of it. It never came up, neither from himself or his friend. And it was all right. Nothing had changed between them at any point because of it. Aziraphale hadn’t retreated into himself nor used that fact to his advantage — never would’ve ever thought of it — and Crowley never tried to push for anything, seeming as content as he always was around him. Despite what years of knowing him taught Aziraphale about his nature of always striving for the best he could get, of not settling for things he wasn’t satisfied with, Crowley didn’t do such a thing with him.

He’d thought that it was a matter of time before Crowley moved on. Things that interested him had always been like that. One new topic after the other, finding new things to dedicate himself to before he grew tired and switched to the next great thing. With the exception of a set few interests that somehow stuck around, even if in the background, such as his love for stars, plants, and old cars (in particular, his grandfather’s Bentley).

But he didn’t move on. Suddenly, it was as if liking Aziraphale had become one of those constants he never grew tired of.

Nothing changed between them, but Aziraphale would often find him gazing at him with a smile all too soft. Would always note how he had no interest in the girls from their year whereas the other boys were almost obsessed with trying to show off to them.

Of course, Aziraphale himself never did those things either, but it wasn’t hard to see Crowley’s case was because his attention was on him instead.

If they’d shared classes those years, Aziraphale was sure Crowley would’ve paid less attention in class than he already did and concentrated on him instead. He didn’t think he was comfortable with that idea, at first — that Crowley would be more obvious about his feelings if he thought Aziraphale wasn’t paying attention.

But that changed for him, although he couldn’t say when. There came a time when he stopped minding. But the day he found out he reciprocated was more than a surprise.

It wasn’t anything grandiose that did it in, although it felt that way in the moment, and he was sure that wasn’t the first time he’d felt that way either.

Aziraphale had retreated into his bedroom with a book in hand after lunch, although he couldn’t remember which one now. The day had been stressful enough and he couldn’t bear to be near other people at the moment; he hadn’t even met up with Crowley before coming back. He’d been quiet while eating, carelessly evading the questions his parents threw his way to engage him in conversation. He didn't ask before standing up as soon as he was finished putting his dish in the sink and going up the stairs.

Not ten minutes later, there was a forceful knock on his door. One he couldn’t ignore.

His father had his arms crossed across the door, fury written across his face. He looked at the book in his hand and then at him and said,

“Is that book truly more important to you than we are?”

He opened his mouth to reply but he came in and shushed him, snatching his book and glaring at it with intensity. He opened it but his eyes weren’t moving.

“Is it something for school?”

“... No.”

Aziraphale didn’t know why he didn’t lie then. Perhaps it would’ve gotten his father to calm down, if he’d lied and said it was for a book report or assignment. He never really paid attention to what books they read each year, so he wouldn’t know.

“Is it borrowed?”

Again, he should’ve lied and said it was. But he said the truth.

“No.”

His father shut the book with a snap and went over to his bedroom window.

Aziraphale couldn’t stop him when he opened the latch and let the book go, although he tried.

He screamed. Aziraphale never screamed, let alone to his parents, but he couldn’t contain it now. He screamed at his father and was told off for misconduct and raising his voice at him.

Aziraphale didn’t protest.

He didn’t come out for the rest of the day and didn’t bother saying goodbye the next day, to either of them.

After school, his father apologised. Had shown true remorse, clearly having felt guilty about it all day, but the damage was already done. The book was no longer where he’d seen it fall, and even if it’d been there, it would be a miracle if it’d survived.

Only the next day did he go meet up with Crowley. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be there, given how he’d skipped the last two days, but when he got there, Crowley was sitting there. He didn’t need to explain — something in the boy’s expression told him he already knew what had happened, although he couldn’t have, could he?

Except… except he did. Because after a few tense seconds had passed, he’d reached into his backpack and pulled something. The movement caught his eyes, and he couldn’t help the way they widened when Crowley revealed the cover.

It was the book that fell.

Its spine had clearly snapped and the pages had marks where they’d been bent by the fall. The pages weren’t even either, meaning some pages had broken off.

And yet, there it was, complete. A broken mess, but carefully stitched together by someone who clearly didn’t know what they were doing but wanted to help.

“How…” His eyes never left the book.

“Was passing by your house when I saw something weird by the trash. Noticed it was yours and well…” He shrugged. “I know you’d never do that to your books, so I tried to fix it for you. Sorry it’s not that good.”

“Crowley…”

The boy in question was looking away, face a shade redder than it was before.

Aziraphale’s heart swelled in response.

“Thank you…”

Crowley offered him a sad smile, one he didn’t need to see through his sunglasses to know it didn’t reach his eyes, and that was when it clicked.

Crowley didn’t just like him. It wasn’t just some passing crush. If that was the case, it wouldn’t have lasted that long. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of trying to fix it for him, surely spending many hours trying to get it to look even passable.

Whatever it was, it was much stronger than a ‘like’.

And he surprised himself with how much the idea of it made him happy. Despite everything, he smiled sincerely as he gazed at him, sure that his heart was beating loud enough that Crowley could hear it.

Aziraphale set the book on his lap and reached for Crowley’s hand, barely touching it before he came to his senses and pulled back on reflex.

Crowley’s sunglasses had slipped, letting just a bit of his eyes show, as he gaped at him. He’d somehow managed to grow even redder, and Aziraphale could hear the blood move in his ears. His mouth went dry.

He took the book with both hands, pressing it against his chest, and jumped to his feet.

“I–” He couldn’t look at Crowley. The floor was much more interesting now than it was a minute ago. “Thank you. Really. I…” He swallowed. “I have to go now but… thank you.”

And he ran.

Crowley didn’t go after him.

It was obvious what had just happened and he could only hope Crowley wouldn’t mention it. He’d had a lot of time to get used to the feeling before Aziraphale found out, after all, and there was no risk of anything happening then, when it was only Crowley who felt that way. But Aziraphale wasn’t granted that advantage. He’d realised and jumped at the opportunity to show it in some way and then ran away. The running away is what did it in. If he could’ve put it under the guise of plausible deniability before, there was no way he could do that now.

He was both relieved and disappointed when, the next day, Crowley didn’t mention it and simply offered him a smile. Even still, the smile was enough of an admission to kickstart his heart.

It was for the best, anyway.

He probably wouldn’t have survived otherwise.

***

Before he slipped out of the car, he let his hand brush over Crowley’s.

“Thank you.”

He closed the door.

He could still see Crowley’s car in his driveway when he made it inside.

A bubbling laugh overtook him.

***

Wednesday—

Aziraphale was still high with excitement from the day before. Crowley had written to him when he woke up to see if he wanted to meet at around tea time after he closed up for the day. Aziraphale had happily accepted.

Originally, he wasn’t sure why he even brought his phone on the trip. He never used the thing and it would just be bothersome if his work colleagues decided to talk to him on his holiday, but in the end, he was glad he’d brought it. No one had used it to bother him and it meant he could talk to Crowley whenever he wanted to. Or, that Crowley could talk to him whenever he wanted to.

The thought of it made him more than giddy.

He blew on his tea (the only foodstuff he’d not forgotten to bring, funnily enough) and sat on his chair. He still had a few hours to spare before they were arranged to meet, so he settled with a book and read, phone with sound on nearby.

He was startled when it rang, half an hour or so after he settled in comfortably, but he quickly answered, heart beating at the prospect of Crowley calling that he failed to see the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sorry for calling all of a sudden.” That wasn’t Crowley’s voice.

He rested his back on the chair again, heart back to normal.

“Ah, Mr. Barret!” he said with fake enthusiasm. It was the man renting him the place. He wasn’t meant to call at any point. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, well, yes. I was just calling to ask how you were holding up in Tadfield and the house. Is there any problem? Are you comfortable? Any fault with the house?”

“Isn’t that question something you’d ask me after I’ve gone? I’m sorry but I’d appreciate it if you told me what was going on.”

He was glad his years of having to put up with annoying colleagues and customers helped him develop a neutral tone in times like these.

“Oh, no, nothing you need to worry about. Just wanted to know because someone else is also interested in the place. Of course, I’m not kicking you early or anything of the sort. Just wanted to hear your opinion. They’ll be coming right after you, you see, on Saturday. And also, if you wanted to buy the place after all…”

“Ah. Of course.”

Then he laughed awkwardly. “Right. Sorry, I didn't mean to press. Well, it seems this place would do better as a B&B than an actual house, eh?”

A moment of silence. Aziraphale barely managed to keep spite from seeping into his voice. “If you want it to be a ‘Bed and Breakfast’, I’d suggest filling up the pantry first.”

The silence at the other side of the line was very telling. So was the way he responded.

“Right.”

Another pause, in which Aziraphale seriously considered breaking decorum and hanging up on the man.

“Well, that was all I wanted to ask. Like I said, no pressure to decide or anything. You could even contact me after you’re gone if no one’s taken the place by then, though it doesn’t seem like it will. Anyway, have a good rest of the week.”

“... Thank you, and you as well. Goodbye”

“Goodbye.”

***

Aziraphale had to tell him. The closer the date approached, the less he could pretend that nothing was wrong. Clearly, Crowley had picked up on it.

“Seriously, I don’t get it. You’ve been acting strange recently!” He threw up his arms. “One day we’re okay and fine and the next you won’t even look at me outside of school. You never go to our usual places, you don’t even acknowledge me anymore! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Aziraphale winced. He really had not been as stealthy as he had hoped. He didn’t know what he was expecting.

“Is it because…”

Aziraphale shut his eyes tight. Crowley’s voice had gone lower, sadder. He wasn’t yelling anymore and somehow which made it worse. There was something broken he dare not name in the way he spoke.

Of course he knew what Crowley was implying, he wasn’t an idiot. He’d known since they were fourteen, though neither had dared speak it, not in all that time. And Crowley knew that he knew. At some point, their interactions had become slightly tinted by those feelings — not too different, but different enough; at first, he didn’t know what to make of it, all those years ago. Catching glances out of the corner of his eye. How they always sat a little closer to each other than normal boys their age used to do. But now, he couldn’t remember how life was without those accidentally on-purpose touches, without that something in Crowley’s eyes that told whole stories to him, and only him, any time when they were alone.

Eyes that he now had hidden under shades, completely obscured.

Not like he could see him now, though. His eyes remained tightly shut.

Crowley’s voice rose again, sharper. “Aziraphale, before you know it, we’ll be eighteen. Soon enough, we’ll be able to get free from this place, our families. Why do you still care what they think? They’ll be out of our skin soon enough.” Then, he added before Aziraphale could interject, “And don’t lie to me and say you don’t feel the same way about me. I know you too well for that to work. Whatever’s going on, it’s about you and your parents and you’re somehow dragging me into all of it.”

“Except I’m not!” He burst out against his better judgement, and immediately regretted his words, partially covering his mouth, when the other flinched. “Dragging you into it, I mean. Quite the… quite the opposite.”

“Well, fuck me, then, you’re completely shutting me out of your life and you somehow think that’s better? In what world–”

“We’re moving.”

Aziraphale stopped breathing. He was sure Crowley had too. Everything was eerily silent now without even the sounds of nature to distract them.

“You’re… moving.”

He nodded.

“When did you find out?”

He swallowed. “Two months ago.”

“Two months–!” His anger flared up again until realisation struck him. “You’ve been avoiding me for two whole months and you didn’t think to tell me when you found out.” He paused and shook his head. A step forward, then another. “No, because you went out of your way to not have to deal with me at all.”

Aziraphale didn’t like the closing distance between them. He took a step back — didn’t run, didn’t think he even could — but Crowley didn’t give up, approaching as he talked.

“Do you have any idea,” he punctuated each word, “how many nights I’ve cried myself to sleep because the only good thing about my day suddenly decided I’m not worth it anymore? That I’m suddenly a disappointment to you and everything you stand for? Do you have any idea–”

“You think I was happy doing it?” He yelled back, no longer caring to keep the hurt out of his voice or letting his tears show. “You think I didn't cry too? Wished things were different?”

Crowley’s hands were nearly tearing his own hairs.

“But they’re not, Crowley. Things are not different and I–”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t my best friend!”

Aziraphale shut up.

He knew. Of course he knew that. They were each other’s highlight, and that wasn’t a secret between them. As soon as they spotted the other, each would light up. If something was wrong, Crowley would always complain to him while Aziraphale lent an ear. He barely spoke himself despite Crowley’s insistence. Despite Crowley telling him time and time and again that he could speak with him about anything. Any troubles… anything. And yet he never did.

“Above all else, you’re my best friend. Any other thing is secondary to that, you hear? And if you think I would’ve been angry at you for moving, you don’t know me at all.”

“But–” Why was he even trying to argue? He knew it was futile, and yet the instinct to explain himself took over.

“Yeah, but you chose to ignore me for two whole months and expected me to be okay with it all of a sudden?! I’m not mad that you’re moving, you absolute idiot! You can’t tell me you think that.”

“No… No, I don’t.”

Another silence enveloped them as Crowley deflated, his expression more sombre now. “When are you going?”

“At the end of the school year.”

“At the end– but that’s–” Only a couple months from now, yes. “Right.”

Aziraphale took a shaky breath. “We already have a potential buyer. Don’t know the names but, as soon as I finish up, they’ll be here. Please try not to hate them.” He felt pathetic — even more pathetic than he already did — by begging. But there he was. Begging that Crowley not hate whoever was coming next because he couldn’t stand being the reason others got hurt. Not if he could do anything about it.

Crowley’s jaw was set. “Oh, I think I already do.”

And with a start, he turned away.

Aziraphale tried calling out to him, but it was already too late; Crowley wouldn’t listen to him. Not ‘couldn’t’, but ‘wouldn’t’.

Like that, he was alone.

He couldn’t remember the moving day.

The last two months flew but also dragged, each day feeling longer than the last, and yet time had never moved as fast.

Crowley hadn’t tried to reach out to him again after that day.

He didn’t either.

He couldn’t remember the moving day.

Not even the moving week.

***

Had four days really passed already? Did he truly only have the rest of the day, the next one, and some part of Friday before he had to leave? It’s not like he could extend the time. Someone else was going to rent it as soon as he got out. Only a couple days were left before he’d have to leave Crowley again. Truly, what had the man intended to do when he called him? Remind him how little time he had left before he had to go back to his exhausting job he didn’t really like back in a city he loved but which had long grown too big for him? What had he been trying to accomplish?

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how long he’d spent staring at the wall after the call ended. It couldn’t have been too long, and yet, he was aroused by the knock on the door and the rumbling of his stomach.

With a groan, he pushed himself from the chair.

Too fast. He stumbled as his vision went black and then cleared. With a huff, he checked his pocket watch.

1:16 pm.

It was still much too early for their tea plans. Although, he could use some food around now. Had he truly been sitting there all that time? The last time he’d checked the time, the arrow of the wall clock in the kitchen had still been pointing at twelve.

Well, it didn’t matter now. Someone, possibly Crowley, although he could see no reason for it, was waiting for him outside. It wouldn’t do to let them hang about for too long.

Quickly adjusting his attire and raking a hand through his hair, he went for the door, thankful that he’d taken the time to get ready before sitting down.

He opened the door.

“Crowley,” he said with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Except Crowley wasn’t the one who had knocked.

“Adam?” He looked down at his watch again. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“What are you talking about? Just got out of school.”

“But it’s still one. You couldn’t have possibly gone out at one.”

“One?” Adam looked perplexed. He shook his head adamantly. “No, it’s three.”

Aziraphale’s heart jumped his chest. “Three already? No, but, it can’t be. I sat down at twelve.”

“Then you were sitting down for three hours? Don’t see what the big deal is. You said you forget time when you read, right?”

“Yes, but…” Aziraphale deflated. Then something else sparked his memory. “Oh! Crowley!” He practically leaped for his phone still on his desk and turned it on.

No missed calls yet. Good.

And Adam was right. The time read 3:21. That explains how hungry he was.

“Can I…” the boy said, still from beyond the open door.

“Oh, yes, come in, come in,” he said distractedly and typed a quick message to Crowley.

Lost track of time. Adam is here for some reason. I will head over as soon as I can.

A few seconds later, a ‘thumbs-up emoji’ popped up from Crowley’s side of the chat.

“Now,” he practically swivelled around. “What can I help you with, dear boy? I’m afraid it can’t be too long, but if there’s anything…”

Adam furrowed his brow. “You’re sad.”

That shocked Aziraphale. As far as he knew, his expression was normal. Sure, maybe a bit anxious because he almost missed his meeting with Crowley without informing him, but sad? What had he done to give Adam that idea?

“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?”

“It’s strange. You pretend you aren’t sad, but you are. Saw it yesterday too.”

His mouth went dry. “Is there… is there anything I could help you with?”

Adam shrugged. “Not really. Just curious.”

“Curious… about why I’m sad?”

He made a face. “Nah, that’s not my business.”

Aziraphale relaxed.

“About Uncle Crowley.”

He perked up in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“What are you, really? Pepper told me it’s rude to assume and the others seemed to agree.”

He lit up with recognition. Those friends from the woods. “Me? Well, I’m a man who–”

“No, not that.” He brushed the air with a hand in a very Crowley-like fashion. “Crowley says you haven’t seen each other in decades, before he moved back in, but are you sure you haven’t talked to each other since then?”

Ah. Aziraphale smiled genuinely. Until he caught onto a detail. “Wait. What do you mean ‘moved back in’? I thought he always lived here?”

“Oh, no. Says he moved out at some point and then came back. Always known him here, though.”

“He… came back? Why?”

“Dunno,” Adam said simply. “But you really hadn’t talked to each other after you moved?”

“We hadn’t, no.”

“Huh. Strange. He acts all different around you, so I thought…”

“That’s alright,” Aziraphale said, but his mind was still processing the new information. “If you don’t mind, though, I have to head over there now. Had made plans. You should go home too.”

“Nah, I’m gonna go explore with Brian, Wensley, and Pepper. Brian says he found a strange stream somewhere and we’re gonna try to find it.” His eyes and smile lit up. “We might find frogs.”

He laughed. “Good luck with that, then. After you.”

***

Aziraphale wasn’t sure when it started, but at one point, Crowley had decided he didn’t want to stay in Tadfield all his life. It had started as just phrases he could easily brush off. But eventually, the comments had grown certain. Not an “I want”, but a “when”.

‘Not sure where I’ll go when I move out.’

‘Do you think I should go into astronomy?’

‘When I leave, I think I want to travel a bit. Did you know that in–’

It had been a certainty.

When I move out, when I leave, when I’m away.

Never had there been a space for Tadfield when speaking about the future. And Aziraphale had believed him.

Even after that fateful day when he saved his book.

Even after that fateful day he finally broke the news to him, after Aziraphale had spent months ignoring him.

Through all of it, Crowley had continued in his certainty. When, when, when.

But he hadn’t.

Except, apparently, he had.

But now he was here. Again. In the house he used to live in as a child. The house he had always said he wanted to leave, to never set foot inside again once he was able to get free.

It had made more sense that Aziraphale thought he’d simply given up on leaving, for some reason, but seeing that he left, what reason could he possibly have had to come back?

Adam had always known him as living there, so he must have moved back at least nine years ago, and that is if we apply the fact that toddlers and little kids don’t remember events well if at all after they grow up. But if Adam was right and Crowley had always been there since he was a baby, he must’ve been there for at least eleven years. But that still leaves a big gap of time in which he wasn’t there. In which Crowley had left and then decided to come back.

Aziraphale couldn’t figure out why.

Neither could he figure out why that specific place. Had he inherited it after his parents died? But if so, why not just sell it? It’s not like he had any attachment to either of them, not his parents and not the house. He’d always preferred being outside. Not a surprise he ended up working with plants.

It didn’t make sense.

---

Crowley had not been worried when Aziraphale didn’t show up in time. He had no reason to, of course. It’s not like there was any obligation for him to show up at 3 pm sharp or a few minutes after that. He might already be by the door and he was going to ring the bell soon.

His finger hovered over Aziraphale’s name in his contacts.

A message popped up.

Lost track of time. Adam is here for some reason. I will head over as soon as I can.

See? There was no reason to get worried. Not like Aziraphale would shut him out all of a sudden.

Except for the time he did.

He sent a thumbs-up back and looked over the tea set and food items he’d laid out.

Any minute now.

Some time later, the doorbell rang, and he sprinted in its direction. He practically tore it wide open. Normally, he might grimace at how desperate he’d looked, but he couldn’t care less right now.

“Aziraphale!”

He’d expected him to be smiling, if a bit frazzled. Maybe had tried to run to get there and not make Crowley wait more, or maybe he would just look as impeccable as always. He might even look apologetic.

That was not the sight he was met with.

Aziraphale’s mouth was tilted upwards by the sides, but it could hardly be considered a smile. Not when his eyes didn’t have that shine to them that they usually did. That they had always had.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, and Crowley could tell he meant it. “May I come in?”

Crowley side-stepped to let him through, arm splayed out as he did, as if he was receiving royalty into his humble abode.

It wouldn’t be too far off.

“So,” he said to break the tension. “You mentioned Adam stopped by. Find out what that was all about?”

“I’m… not too sure actually. Something about how you acted, I think? He seemed under the impression that we’d kept in touch? Which I suppose makes sense. I just don’t get why he’d thought it important enough to ask.”

Crowley hummed. That was strange, but he’d known Adam long enough to know that was nowhere near the reach of his weirdness. Nothing too off-putting, of course. He was just a kid. But he was great at reading people — when he wanted to. And he had no qualms asking questions if he thought something was weird enough or whatever it may be. That sounded like a very Adam question.

“He did bring something up though.” Aziraphale sat on the couch across from him.

Realising he was still lingering by the door, he approached and sat on the couch nearest to him, coffee table between them. Crowley tilted his head.

“Oh, I’m very sorry, I completely forgot to mention,” Aziraphale quickly added. “It all looks very lovely and delicious.” He looked around. “And I’ve never been inside your house before. Has it always looked like this?”

Crowley shrugged. “Nah, changed a few things, remodelled some others. But the basic structure is the same, I guess. Some furniture is still the same, too.”

“That reminds me.” He paused and looked down at the scones he’d brought. Carefully, he picked one up and put it on a plate. “Of what Adam mentioned.” He peered at the tea in front of him. “What’s that?”

“Oh, right. Must be cold now. Just some green.”

Aziraphale took the cup with both hands, gently cradling it, and smelled the aroma before sipping it. “I suppose it is a bit on the cooler side, but it’s still warm, not to worry.”

Crowley leaned back in his seat, fingers nervously tapping on his thigh. Something was clearly bothering Aziraphale and he wasn’t saying anything. Just what had Adam said to get him acting like that? Is there anything he should worry about? The silence was driving him mad.

“So?” He finally said, hoping his voice wouldn’t show too much how he was feeling. He still had an image to uphold, nevermind the dumb things he’d done that Aziraphale had been subject to growing up. He was a changed man now. Very cool and composed.

“Right.” Aziraphale put down the cup and sat primly, hands folded on his lap. “It’s nothing bad,” he quickly added as his eyes caught sight of his tapping fingers. “He just mentioned that you hadn’t always been here. I mean, he said he grew up with you around, but that wasn’t always the case. Got me curious why you’d come back, is all. You were always going on about how you wanted to move as soon as you could. Made it clear you wouldn’t want to set foot in here again. So, what changed?”

“Ah,” Crowley said, partially relieved to hear that’s what had been troubling him. “You know how life is. End up doing things you’d never thought you would.”

“Yes…” Aziraphale said, unconvinced, head tilted down and looking upwards at him “If you don’t mind me asking? Though I suppose if it’s too personal, you don’t need to say anything. I’m just curious, is all.”

Crowley heaved a sigh and took off his sunglasses. He normally didn’t wear them inside his house. There was no need to; he managed the light levels there to his comfort, but he’d long grown used to wearing them when he knew someone was coming. Much too expressive, they were. Completely gave him away. The sunglasses served the double function of not only keeping light out of his eyes, but of keeping others from seeing them too. A barrier he was now, momentaneously, removing.

He needed Aziraphale to see his face now.

“Eh, yeah, it’s kind of personal,” he started, and saw how Aziraphale immediately deflated. “But I could tell you. Don’t see why not.” When Aziraphale rose again, eyes shining with hope and curiosity, he continued, “so long as you tell me why you came here too. Fair?” It probably wasn’t, and he would gladly tell him everything even if he said nothing in exchange, but he was too curious for his own good too, and that question had been plaguing him a bit. He’d said he was renting it, but why Tadfield in particular? He had his theories, but wanted to hear what he had to say.

“I suppose so, yes.” Aziraphale seemed undeterred, so Crowley began.

***

Like he’d always said, as soon as he was able to, he left town. Went to study in the city, got a job, rented a flat, finally free from everything that had been holding him back before.

Then his father died.

He attended the ceremony, though he didn’t know why. He hadn’t owed the man anything. Hadn’t owed his mother or anyone else anything either. He just felt he had to. Then he came back to the city, worked, continued as normal, but always felt like he’d left something incomplete there. Like he could’ve done something to mend their relationship. But his father hadn’t called first, so he had never gone.

Then his mother got sick.

She called him, asked him to please come. That she wanted to mend what they’d broken, or at least get to see him one last time. That she’d been a shit parent and Crowley deserved to feel loved. That even if he refused, she wouldn’t hold it against him.

He maybe shouldn’t have gone. But he did. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t show up and those were the last words he heard from her.

He couldn't remember his father’s last words to him. Crowley didn’t even properly say goodbye when he moved out, only to Deidre, who’d become a source of support after his only true friend was ripped away from him.

He’d only planned on staying a couple days, over the weekend, and then he’d never see her again, finally feeling like he got closure. That was the plan.

But life never wanted him to follow plans to a T.

As soon as she saw him, she hugged him and apologised in person. Crowley didn’t know how much he needed that until that moment.

He’d had to call off work on Monday. Caring for his mother, now. He’d still had to go to the city, pick up more clothes, something to eat, and then head back to the house and stayed there.

“I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to hide. I never met your friend, but I think I know who it was now.” Her laugh was gentle from her seat on her bed. Still, the hairs on his nape stood at the words.

“Do you, now.”

“Yes, it was that Fell boy, wasn’t he? What was his name?”

“Aziraphale,” he said before he could think. “How did you find out? I thought you didn’t know. You would’ve done something if you’d known. Ground me, probably. A strong lecture, too.”

She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly. “Yes, knowing who I was then, I would’ve. But no, I didn’t know back then. Didn’t think much of it.”

There was a lull in conversation while Crowley took the information in.

Then she picked up again. “I remember you retreating to yourself when you were seventeen. You looked horrible. Stopped caring about your appearance, your grades plummeted, and we could hear you cry in your bedroom. You always pushed me away when I tried to ask what was wrong, and your father too. Wouldn’t tell either of us. We were worried for you.”

Crowley grimaced. He remembered that. It had made sense, in his seventeen-year-old mind. Maybe he should’ve talked to them, but it would be admitting who he was friends with and sure, maybe his mother was okay with it now, but if he’d told them then, they might’ve only used it to fuel their hatred for the other family, and thus Aziraphale.

“Then, months later, the Fells left. I didn’t think much of it, but you got worse. And then you befriended Deidre and started visiting them, but you never went out with your secret friend you refused to name anymore. Her parents also mentioned that when you first met her, you were clearly trying to be antagonistic, but it didn’t work. They found it amusing, so I never found room to complain, but I didn’t get why. They were in the place of the Fells, after all. You’d never shared our dislike for them, but I thought you’d be mostly unaffected.” She inhaled. “When you said you’d move out as soon as you finished school, I think that’s when it all clicked. I’m not sure why, but it made sense. Thought you’d perhaps go meet him somewhere. Maybe go study at the same university.” She looked up at him. “I never did hear about any of them again. Did you meet again?”

He shook his head. “No, didn’t have a way to contact each other.” He paused to look anywhere else but her. “Besides, we didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms.”

She hummed in a way that meant she’d caught onto something already. “But was I right? That he’s always been that friend you saw.”

He nodded because he couldn’t speak.

She looked away and spoke slowly, as if to not scare a wild animal. “Then I think you won’t have any problems once you see each other again.”

He didn’t hide his shock as he darted to face her. “You think we will? Meet again? Why?”

“If he’s as important to you as I’m guessing, I don’t see how you could escape the other altogether.” She smiled.

“More.”

She tilted her head and looked back at him.

“I think,” he tried again, “he was more important than you’re probably guessing.”

His eyes were hot and tingling and she took one look at him and pulled him into her arms, onto where she was laying on her bed. He melted immediately under her caresses.

“I’m not the only one who wanted to apologise, you know?”

Crowley stilled in her arms.

“Your father regretted everything as much as I did, if not more. He came to the same conclusion as me, eventually. Felt like a proper asshole.”

He managed to pry himself from his mother’s grip and looked into her eyes, aware of how vulnerable he must look like that, with mussed hair, tearful eyes, and a wobbly mouth. “Then why didn’t he?”

“Felt he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. You’d made it clear you didn’t want to see us again.”

“... But then you called.”

She smiled sadly. “At the funeral, I saw you there. You still cared, if you decided to show up despite everything. I knew I couldn’t let you go with the loose ends between us. I was still too much of a coward to do anything, but when I got sick, I knew I couldn’t postpone it any longer. I’m glad I called.”

“I’m glad too.”

After that, they grew closer. She got worse and worse with time, but he stood by her side through it.

“I wish I could’ve met your friend properly,” she said one day, after Crowley told her another story. “If he’s anything like you’re saying, he sounds like an angel.”

Crowley shook his head. “More.”

She smiled at him knowingly and squeezed the hand between hers.

Eventually, she passed.

Crowley could head back to the city, if he wanted to, and go back to his old job. But he didn’t. Besides the trips it took to get everything in order and settling the papers he’d need to fully move in, he didn’t go back to London. That would come later, as little trips with Adam on vacation. She’d left him everything, and he was going to put it all to good use.

***

“Dunno, guess those last months weren’t all that bad. Didn’t feel like leaving afterwards.” He looked off into the distance, eyes unseeing. “I’d hoped she was right, that I’d see you again, but after a while, I don’t know, I just accepted it wouldn’t happen. You probably had a whole life out there, wherever you were, and I couldn’t exactly contact you online. Tried to, but nothing. T’was like you didn’t even exist.”

Aziraphale grimaced guiltily. He’d never been a fan of social media, or of his name being displayed in places he couldn’t control. It’s not as if there was anyone else in the entire world named Aziraphale but him. Any and all mentions of the name would immediately be linked back to him, no need for a surname in the mix.

Never did he imagine that’s what had been keeping Crowley from contacting him.

He felt silly, for never having thought of searching for him online. But then again, he thought the same too. That he’d already made his life somewhere and didn’t particularly want to see him. Not with how they broke things off.

He was right on only one of those fronts. He’d found a life for himself here, and yet, he had tried to contact him. He’d wanted to reconnect.

“And here you are,” Crowley continued, unaware of Aziraphale’s thoughts, “and it’s like no time has passed and it’s – strange. Not bad strange. Just strange.” He leaned his back on the backrest and looked up. “Guess she was right.”

Then they settled into silence.

When Crowley stopped speaking, Aziraphale realised all at once that neither had touched their own teas as he talked, the cups having long stopped steaming (and they had barely been steaming at all, before. If they could’ve been considered drinkable before, the possibilities that that was still the case was improbable if not impossible).

Crowley seemed to have realised it at the same time and reached for his tea, feeling the cup with his hands before tentatively taking a sip. As soon as the liquid reached his tongue, his face scrunched and spat it back out indelicately, mouth wide and tongue sticking out in disgust. The somehow familiar sight helped disentangle something in Aziraphale’s chest.

“Cold?”

Crowley smacked his lips a few times, mouth still downturned. “Yeah, can’t drink this now. Want me to make some more?”

Aziraphale wanted to accept, but that would mean putting off all that Crowley had just told him. It clearly hadn’t been easy for him to speak and the poor man was still thinking about it, if the tapping of his foot as they settled into silence was anything to go by. Crowley had never been able to control it. Most of the time, he wasn’t aware he was even doing it until someone else pointed it out. It would be cruel to not say anything and let him wallow at what his response might be.

“No, thank you.”

That had the opposite effect on Crowley than the one he’d been hoping for. Crowley’s body grew tense. “Right.”

Aziraphale heaved a sigh and started. “I…”

Crowley jumped to his feet. “Please let me refill your tea. Least I could do.”

Aziraphale knew someone reaching for straws when he saw one. He conceded with a nod. He wanted to talk to calm Crowley’s nerves, but if it would only make his nerves worse, there was no reason to not let him have this. “All right.”

“Perfect.” And like that, he bolted to the kitchen with the two cups and plates in hand. Soon, he could hear the clinking of objects and what sounded like water from the sink spraying everywhere. A muffled swear followed it. If Crowley came back with his shirt at least partially wet, it wouldn’t surprise him.

He had time yet. Time to think of what to say when he came back. He’d have to spend it wisely.

Some time later, Crowley came back holding the cups by the plates underneath, now properly steaming. He set them on the table with a clank and sat back down, peering at him.

Or he assumed he was. His eyes were once again covered by the sunglasses.

With a gentle smile, he took a sip of the tea and Crowley followed his example.

It was now or never.

“In all honesty,” he started, ignoring the pang on his chest when Crowley swallowed thickly, “I didn’t think you’d particularly want to see me.”

Crowley sputtered. “Are you kidding?”

Aziraphale threw him a glare. “Let me finish. You had your turn.”

Crowley nodded and signalled for him to speak with the wave of his hand.

He spoke again. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me for the same reason you thought I wouldn’t want to. But I did want to. Truth be told, I didn’t even know you’d be here, when I decided to come. It was a pleasant surprise.”

He took a drink of his tea to calm his already sore throat. He wondered how Crowley had made it through without anything to drink.

Crowley took a drink too, whether he was subconsciously mirroring Aziraphale or to keep himself from replying in his silence was anyone’s guess. Knowing him, it was most likely some mixture of both.

“I suppose it’s less that I thought you’d still be mad at me or anything like that and more… I often forget they have no say in what I do anymore. Haven’t in a long time, and yet, I keep trying to live the life they wrote for me. So I stayed in the city which is always growing and changing, studied what they wanted me to study, worked at some company I couldn’t tell you the name of if pressed and I’ve been going there for years.” He started laughing. There was no humour in it. Crowley’s Adam’s apple bobbled and he regained his composure. “Didn’t get to have what you described with them. Thought that coming here might be refreshing. That all I needed was a little break from everything for a week and it would go back to normal. That I could go back to the city, go back to my job, and continue like I have for years.”

“And you can’t?” Crowley asked. He didn’t need to respond. “What changed?”

Aziraphale’s mouth grew dry again and he drank the tea. It was no longer as hot as it had been before, but pleasantly warm. Crowley didn’t do the same.

It didn’t help with the dryness.

“Guess I found you.” He held the cup with both of his hands and stared at it, not intending to drink. “Had forgotten what it felt like. Having you around, I mean. Like you said, it’s like…” He looked up at Crowley and quickly averted his gaze. Crowley’s eyes were boring into him, as if he was seeing through him. Or perhaps that’s just how he felt. He swallowed. “Like nothing’s changed.”

He let the words lay heavy between them, part of him praying he wouldn’t get what he was trying to say. That he’d say something dismissive and brush it off, or some vague noise of agreement.

Crowley’s voice sounded strained. “‘Nothing’s changed’, in what way?”

Of course he would pick up on it.

“That is to say… I…”

Crowley’s eyes didn’t leave him. In fact, he reached for his shades and pushed them up his head gently. It looked ridiculous, the way the glasses mussed his hair.

“I think… you bring out the best of me. Is it so soon to say that?”

“No, not at all.” Crowley sounded almost breathless as he said it. He cleared his throat. “If it makes you feel better, it’s the same here.”

“Really? But you’ve been nothing but wonderful. I don’t see how I’m responsible for anything.”

Crowley barked out a laugh. “Why do you think I said it’s the same here?”

“Huh?” Aziraphale was taken aback by Crowley’s reaction.

“What was it you said Adam told you? About us talking?”

Aziraphale tried to see how this connected to the topic at hand but couldn’t find any correlation. “Well, he said you…” He racked his brain for what it was the boy had said. His eyes widened in realisation. “He said you… acted differently?”

Crowley nodded, grinning.

“So you’re telling me you’re actually a devilish imp when I’m not around?” He teased and got the reaction he was looking for. Crowley laughed again, clearly unable to contain his glee.

“Guess I am.” He crossed a leg and set his elbow on his knee, leaning his back until his head rested atop his knuckles. His grin was truly impish. “So.”

“So.”

“We make each other better, you say.”

“I… suppose so, yes.”

He hummed. “Then I don’t see why you’d have to keep away once you go back to the city. No reason to stop talking. You have my number, don’t you?”

“You know I do.” He tried to sound reproachful but missed by a mile. “And you have too.”

“Right. So there’s no reason to disappear now, is there? Could even go visit you there. Go out to eat sometime… I hear there’s many more restaurants back in London than here.”

“Now where could you have possibly heard that?” He reached for the forgotten appetisers and took a bite. “Oh, these are delicious!”

“Got it from one of the best bakeries in town!”

“I think I’m starting to see your point. Still, I wouldn’t mind visiting that bakery with you one day, if you’re amenable.” He glanced up at Crowley and chuckled at the sight. His eyes had grown fully wide, eyebrows disappearing under his hairline and a little smile teasing at his agape mouth. Slowly, it turned into a smirk.

“Sure. Yeah. Perfectly amenable, me. What’d you say I help you tomorrow?”

“To pack?”

“Sure yeah that too.” He waved his hand. “But that’s not what I meant. You’d have to call a taxi, wouldn’t you? Didn’t see a car with you. Bet it can’t be that cheap. Been a while since I took the Bentley out for a proper ride too. And ‘sides, I‘d like to take you to lunch somewhere. What’d you think? And I don’t like going through the M25, so take this as a compliment. 'Cause it is.”

“I suppose I shall. And yes, I would like that, very much.”

“Good. Great. What time you gotta leave?”

“Well, if we want to have lunch there… what do you say we leave at twelve?”

“Perfect. I’ll come by at 11:30.”

Suddenly, the prospect of leaving so soon didn’t feel all that bad anymore.

***

Thursday—

The day passed in a flash, but that didn’t feel like something bad anymore. Aziraphale spent most of the day in Crowley’s shop, lending a hand where it was needed, as they talked about various topics, including, but not limited to, what plant Aziraphale could take along with him.

“Oh, no, there’s no need for that.” He shook his head. “Like I said, I’m horrible at taking care of plants. Don’t know why I even thought it’d be a good idea. Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable just taking it from you.”

“It’s not ‘just taking it’ if I’m giving it to you. Seriously, go ahead. Succulents are known for being very easy to care for.” Crowley pushed the small plant towards him again. “And hey, if you ever need help, it’s not like I won’t be around to lend a hand. Just take it.”

Aziraphale’s fingers tentatively brushed the pot and his hands wrapped around it without conscious thought. He brought it to his chest. “Thank you.”

Crowley had already turned around and gone back to whatever he was doing before he sprung the gift up on him. Firming some potting mix in place, by the looks of it. Had Aziraphale not been holding the evidence of that interaction, he might’ve thought it didn’t happen.

“What for?” He said without looking back. “It’s for my own benefit, you see? Now we have another reason to see each other. Completely selfish.”

Aziraphale hummed and sat with his legs crossed on a chair nearby, plant cradled in both hands.

The next few minutes were silent, only the scrunch and occasional thump of the soil being worked accompanying them.

He found peace in said silence.

***

Friday—

“That’s all?” Crowley said as Aziraphale zipped the case containing the books. He waited for a nod before continuing. “Did you even read half of these?”

“Well…” Aziraphale straightened up. “I… may have not,” he said slowly. “But I did read a good few of them.”

“Uh huh.”

“It istrue! But even then, you couldn't just expect me to leave all my favourite books back at my flat, could you?”

“Hmm. S’ppose not. You could probably open a bookshop if you have as many books as you say. Or a library, since you so hate to part with your ‘dear books’.”

Aziraphale huffed. “I couldn't. People would make a mess of them.” He looked at the floor sheepishly. “Besides, I’d need a Library Sciences degree and I don’t have one. My parents persuaded me not to pursue one.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to do your own thing? That they no longer have a hold on you? So why not? Not like you like your job any. Better late than never.” Crowley spread his arms out dramatically.

He smiled and picked up the case with his clothes as Crowley took the other from him. “I suppose it is.”

“Besides,” Crowley said slowly, tentatively, as they made it out of the house, “it’s not like Tadfield has a proper library. I mean, yeah, it has one, but it's only got, what, ten books?”

“I doubt that.”

“Bet you could do a better job at it than that.”

Crowley rushed to his car and opened the trunk, leaving Aziraphale to process what he’d implied on the steps of the house. But when he did, he smiled. “Suppose I could.” He started walking until he was at his side. “But it would take a long time.”

Crowley took the other case and lunged it into the trunk. “The library can wait, no need to rush it.”

Something in Aziraphale’s chest warmed, but he couldn’t respond. The sound of footsteps running towards them took his attention from Crowley.

Adam was approaching them.

Aziraphale put his hands on his hips. “Now I know you’re missing class, young man. What’s your excuse?”

“Wanted to see you off!” He turned his gaze to Crowley. “You’re going with him too, right?”

“Just for today.” Crowley shut the trunk. “And before you ask, no, you’re not invited. You can come along some other time.”

Adam pursed his lips.

“Like Crowley said, Adam. Besides, I think you have somewhere else you need to be, don’t you?”

“Ah, there’s Deidre!”

Everyone turned where Crowley was looking.

There was, indeed, Deidre Young. And by the looks of it, she’d spotted Adam. Her pace got faster.

“Oh. Dang it. I gotta go, bye!” He dashed off in the opposite direction.

Crowley yelled, “Tell your classmates you got caught!”

The boy turned around, still running, and stuck his tongue at Crowley.

He laughed. “Brat!”

“I’m eleven, what's your excuse!”

By the time she caught up to them, Adam was out of sight.

“Oh, that boy is going to be in so much trouble. And even more so if R.P. Tyler finds him.”

“Wait, the self-proclaimed ‘neighbourhood watch’ is still here?” Aziraphale said. “How did I not see him?”

“You may not have seen him,” Crowley drawled, elbow resting on the Bentley’s roof, “but trust me, he’s seen you. He’s got like, even stronger senses than you when it comes to spotting stuff. I’d say not to get on his wrong side, but people just ignore him.”

“So like always?”

“You could say that.”

“I swear I wasn’t aware he would pull something like this. I’m seriously going to have a talk with him.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Told him to tell his friends he got caught. He knows if he doesn’t, I’ll do it, and I have no shame whatsoever. Probably going to school now. He knows what’s coming if not.”

“You know,” Aziraphale said, “I don’t think your… methods are very conventional.”

“But they’re effective.”

Mrs. Young huffed out a laugh. “You know, I always wondered how you two behaved together. Had stories from Crowley, but it’s a different thing to see it in action.”

“Gnh, well.”

“Right, I just wanted to say goodbye. Hope we’ll be seeing you around?”

“You will.” Aziraphale smiled. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Young.”

“Oh please, call me Deidre.”

“Very well, Deidre, I’ll be seeing you around. Thanks for being there for our good friend here when I wasn’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Crowley groaned.

Deidre smiled. “And thank you too.”

“Can we get on?”

Aziraphale shook his head and rolled his eyes with a fond smile on his face. “I’m going.”

“Well, I’m not going to keep you any longer. Good luck on the drive.”

“Thank you.”

Crowley went to the other side of the car and opened the door for him.

Somehow, he still hadn't gotten used to the warm feeling in his chest.

***

9 months later—

“You’re sure about this?”

“Of course I am.” Aziraphale had already sent his two week’s notice, after all. “And I’ll be very cross with you if you try to dissuade me in any way.”

Crowley tsked in light humour and helped him tape the last box. “I’m not.”

“Good, because I don’t want to spend whoever knows how long unpacking all this here, and I don’t know how we’d begin to explain to the movers once they get here that ‘oh there’s been some minor misunderstanding, no need to be here, you can go home now, pip pip’.”

Crowley cackled. “Pip pip? God, if angels can be bastards then she’s right.”

“Who, dear?”

“My mother. She was right.”

“And that’s about…”

Crowley gave a toothy grin. “You really are an angel.”

He tried to put on an unaffected face and hoped the flaring sensation all over it wasn’t visible. Crowley’s self-satisfied look signalled to the opposite.

The intercom buzzed and he jumped to unhook the telephone and bring it to his ear, pointedly ignoring Crowley just in his peripheral vision.

“Yes, it’s me,” he responded to the movers. “Perfect.” He pressed the button to unlock the front door and hooked the phone back in.

He stared at it for a second or two.

He was actually doing this. They were actually doing this. No longer travelling to and fro and again just to be able to see Crolwey on the weekends, balancing it with a job he still didn’t like. They were actually moving in together. After 8 months since they properly started dating.

He couldn’t help but to turn around and kiss Crowley.

Crowley melted into it, and so they stayed like that for a few moments, until a knock on the door brought them to the present.

Aziraphale pushed himself off lightly. “Guess the movers are here.”

Crowley hummed. “Can’t they wait a bit?”

“The sooner they come in, the sooner we’ll be at our place. What do you think?”

“Our place.” Crowley looked a little dizzy for a moment and then stepped off from his embrace. “Yeah. Yeah we can wait. Let them in.”

“That’s what I thought.”

And he opened the door.

Comments

Lovely

[holrose]

I loved this story of childhood friends getting together after a long time. Very sweet and romantic.

[(Anonymous)]

i *adored* all the little echoes of canon throughout.
the childhood flashbacks were just at the edge of how much angst i can bear, poor lambs.
but then we get our happy ending, which everybody in the world believed in all along.
except for the walnuts, bless 'em.

good job!

Comicgeekery

[(Anonymous)]

I am astonished by how much thought and effort you put into this! The flashbacks to the past are great and I love the gentle way Aziraphale and Crowley get (back?) together. Normally there would be so much angst about this kind of set-up but, while they do both have to face some hard feelings and memories, it also feels very much like they understand that they have both grown as people since they separated as teens. It's refreshing and mature. They acknowledge the past but realize it would be silly to let that hold them back. Very well done!

[maniacalmole]

Imagining them young, Crowley going way too fast on his bike for Aziraphale, is such a good image :)
Oh the spot in Hogback woods, it’s definitely a Lair :D
“They live in your old house.” OOF
““Weren’t we supposed to be there at seven?” he said as he climbed inside. “With this car?” Crowley grinned. “We will.”” Oh boy lol
Aziraphale’s ‘oh’ moment :’) The pain in adolescence contrasted with his bubbling laugh in adulthood, too!
The whole scene with Crowley reconciling with his mother is so moving :’)
Ahhhhhh my comments are a mess but this fic was so good!!! I really enjoyed it, it was cathartic and adorable :) Thanks!

Thank you for your gift!

[ofsnakesliesandkings]

Aziraphale buying (giving) the apple to Adam? Poetic cinema
Adam being Crowley's god child?? Their dynamic is the best!!
Adam confronting Aziraphale and Crowley to help them use their brain cells? Wouldn’t have it any other way xD

OMG the FLASHBACKS! I love childhood friends AUs because of how their relationships are established in the past compared to the present and it was written here beautifully. The bentley backstory and Young Aziraphale realising why Crowley hangs out with him so much while convincing himself he would leave eventually was so so touching, both of them were the cutest!! Crowley saving his book and both of them being shy about their feelings, aww! and poor Crowley being helpless but not wanting to let him go (and Aziraphale not wanting to leave either, in fact blocking out the entire thing in his memory, poor sweetie!)

Also love that Crowley decided to hate whoever moved into his angel's house but ended up becoming such good friends with Deidre. Always a win! (And Deidre being just as helpful as her son, albeit with more teasing xD)

And then the story happening in present-time where they just click together again, understand each other more, truly choose one another *insert infinite hearts* It’s like seeing them grow from giggling children in bushes to shy adolescent who don’t understand their feelings to finally bridging that gap and Aziraphale reaching for Crowley’s hand *chef’s kiss*

The only correct way to classify vegetables is to know if they can be used in fruit salads or not xD

A picnic! At their spot! Well, ‘used’ to be there spot but at least Adam and the Them are making good use of it, lairs don’t build themselves– the little tidbit about it being a bomb crater but it eventually became a place of life is symbolism at it’s finest

“How many books do you have??” He smiled ominously. “Many more.”-- Pftt xD obviously he does. And good to see Crowley’s driving never changes loll

Aziraphale having to visit his old home :( but Crowley is there every step of the way :)

The phone call exchange really showed Aziraphale's confliction about leaving or staying and I was right there with him cause the owner was Not Nice

Their relationships with the parents was also very well done, I teared up at Crowley and his mom and Crowley choosing to come back to Tadfield<333

“We make each other better, you say.”-- yes, yes you do <3

“My mother. She was right.” “And that’s about…” Crowley gave a toothy grin. “You really are an angel.”= this whole exchange lives in my head rent free <3

The kiss- - <3<3<3
Moving in together??? 'our place'--*says through tears of joy* wahoo for a happy ending!

Ok this comment is getting too long lmao, I just loved it, thank you so much for this fic!