Happy Holidays, larkthorne!

[goe_mod]

Title: Hold Your Applause

Recipient: larkthorne

Rating: T

Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale

Warnings: Depression, slight suicidal thinking (no harm or death)

Summary: Crowley doesn't know what's supposed to happen after you save the day. He needs an angel to give him a quiet, brave rescue.

 

Hold Your Applause

 

To be fair, Crowley hadn’t given much thought to how things might go if they actually averted Armageddon. He’d been too busy running and lying and going out of his mind with panic for a decade and change to really think about it. (Not too different from how a lot of his life had gone, honestly.)

But then...it worked. It all worked. Crowley had the Earth. He had held hands on a bus. He had all of Hell and Heaven afraid of him. He even, most incredibly, had the best glass of champagne of his existence with an angel who finally seemed happy to call him a friend. It was beautiful, perfect, cinematic even.

And then there had been a blasted, God-fucking-damned plague!

It made Crowley so angry he’d started cursing people from his window. It might as well have been the bleeding 14^th century again! And then the stupid angel didn’t even have the decency to let Crowley come over and watch him eat cake! Crowley was definitely going to have a long grumpy nap about it all.

He dreamed about decadent meals and dancing under the stars...with no one in particular. He also dreamed about pillars of fire, burning books, and a certain deadly bathtub. That last one made it especially upsetting to be awoken after not even a year by a bucket of putrid water.

“AHH! What the Heaven?!” Crowley flailed and tumbled out of bed. When he popped his head up again there was a very prim demon watching him.

“My name is Shax.” She spoke with cool precision. “I am your replacement as Hell’s local representative on Earth. Hell has turned this living space over to me. Please leave at once or I will file the paperwork to perform a class five act of wrath against you.”

And so Crowley moved into his Bentley. Napping was a lot less fun after that.

He did his best to not let on that anything was wrong. Did so many cleaning miracles that Aziraphale asked if Crowley had driven into a lemon stand recently. And then Crowley overcompensated by making himself and the Bentley so scentless that it made Aziraphale genuinely worry his nose had stopped working.

But at least he couldn’t smell what would be there naturally: sweat, grime, the distasteful residue of oily skin and the build-up of a dozen grooming products without the chance to be washed off. “Home” became stale air and the vague sense of always being in someone’s way.

It wasn’t safety, not really. It was barely stability. It was a holding pattern while he waited to be hurt again. He had nowhere he could properly retreat. His only sense of safety came from being ready, at any moment, to run.

He did his best to act like everything was fine. He couldn’t risk being too much after all. There’s always too much at stake when your best friend is also your only friend.

Maybe it wasn’t so surprising he got depressed. That part was harder to hide from Aziraphale. Crowley being grouchy wasn’t anything special, even him being bored was common enough. But there were times the Crowley caught Aziraphale looking at him with a concerned frown.

Crowley hated it. He knew Aziraphale was struggling too, trying to figure out what “angel” and “good” and even “retired” meant in a world where they had survived openly defying Heaven, Hell, and maybe even God Herself. Crowley could see how those questions consumed Aziraphale now, even as he tried very hard not to explicitly think them.

Really, Crowley should have been having an easy time of retirement in comparison. He’d sorted out his divine identity issues ages ago (to the tune of “Fuck you idiots, fuck you hypocrites, and fuck You in particular for literally everything”). There shouldn’t have been anything left for Aziraphale to worry about Crowley worrying about. There wasn’t any point.

“D’you ever think about sunsets?” Crowley asked one evening. The sky was freshly dark and it was giving him a mild growing dread. It was a good dread. Subtle. Might have been a productive one to inspire. Before.

“Sunsets, my dear?” Aziraphale blinked up at Crowley from a cookbook he was slowly cleansing of any sign of ever having been near a kitchen. “Well, they are quite lovely, I suppose. They add such dramatic lighting to landscapes. You know, I once wanted to try my hand at photography. Perhaps, now that color is an option, I could—”

“They end films that way a lot. Hero saves the day, gets some woman as a prize, and then they go off into the sunset. Credits roll. Audience claps.” Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out his keyring, stared at it with affection and hate.

“But they don’t actually go into the sunset,” he went on. “It’s just, you know, an illusion. They’re still on Earth. Probably for the best.” He didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t know why he was saying it. “We could do it properly though. I could drive off right now. Just go off into the sun.”

“Crowley. Stop that at once!”

Crowley looked up, startled. Aziraphale marched in front of him and yanked the keyring from his hand. But even more startling was Aziraphale’s expression. He looked furious.

“I…” Aziraphale swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I haven’t given you the happy ending you wanted on the other end of fire and flood. But Crowley, you couldn’t...you can’t...Don’t you dare leave me now!”

And Crowley blinked. It suddenly felt like the lights had come on in the middle of a movie. Perhaps one Crowley had snuck into. “Uh...What? You don’t—Oh, don’t be so dramatic, angel. I’m not actually going driving into space. Don’t be ridiculous!”

He stood and veered around Aziraphale to stomp toward the door. He didn’t actually need his keys to make the Bentley go. “You don’t need to fuss over every little thing, you know! I’m fine! We’re fine! ‘Fire and flood’, that’s you reading too much depressing poetry. Why don’t you go for a ride in the country or something? Go and show some blessed appreciation for this beautiful bleeding planet!”

Aziraphale tried to stop him, to call after him, but Crowley slammed the door to the bookshop closed behind him. It was a perfectly rational move and Crowley didn’t regret it in the slightest.

Well, maybe he would have had second thoughts eventually. Unfortunately, a naked archangel appeared in Soho that week.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Sorting out Gabriel’s amnesia along with its causes and consequences wasn’t the most stressful time of Crowley’s life. But, considering he’d once Fallen and once averted Armageddon, that bar was pretty high.

There was something though. Something else. He’d squabbled with Aziraphale, in front of someone they knew for once. And Nina...she’d just cut through 6000 years of secrets and rituals and excuses. She’d seen Crowley and Aziraphale bicker and said, “Oh, of course. That’s love.”

So now Crowley was cleaning up the shop, setting things right after a proper Ballroom Blitz, and just barely holding back on a fiery flood of emotions. He told Muriel to go away, but then got distracted. There was sunlight shining on his hand. Crowley took off his sunglasses to see it properly. It made him think about sunsets again.

Aziraphale came back in, looking almost giddy. But then his smile faded.

“Crowley, what’s wrong? Why...Why are you crying?”

Shit. They never cried with each other. It was one of the basic rules. And maybe Crowley wanted to change those rules, but not this one. Not yet. He scoffed and looked away, wiping his eye as subtly as possible.

“Don’t be stupid. Nothing’s wrong, angel. I’m pleased as punch even. Didn’t you hear Shax? I’ve got a home again.”

This did not cheer Aziraphale. “I never knew you’d lost it. I’m so sorry. I should have seen it. I should have given you shelter.”

“Please. Sheltering a demon?”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “I would. I would have for as long as you needed. But...what if you didn’t have to be a demon?”

What a weird question. “Of course I didn’t have to be a demon. That was all Her choice.” Crowley frowned. “It was awful, but it was what I had to work with to build who I am. I...Huh.”

He thought harder. His Fall, his time with Hell, every torture and heart-break. He hated them all, wanted to never experience anything like them again, but those memories were his. In some ways they were even him.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, who was hovering uncertainly. “I don’t know if I’d have loved you if I had never been a demon.”

Aziraphale went absolutely bug-eyed. He stood still long enough for Crowley to process what he’d just said and remember that frank love confessions were a code red panic situation!

Crowley must have tried to run, because in the next instant he was being simultaneously restrained and hugged by a very emotional angel.

“Now? Really, now Crowley? This is when you make your move?!”

Aziraphale clutched at him from behind. Crowley could feel his dearest friend’s face pressed into back. Aziraphale’s voice was both angry and choked up. Crowley wanted to turn and do something about it, but Aziraphale wouldn’t let him rotate either.

“Oh, so sorry for not being romantic enough after a night of fighting for our lives!” Crowley snarled in the direction of the hatstand by the door. He also clutched at Aziraphale’s hands. They’d never touched this much before. “Why don’t you try reciting a poem or something? Give us some atmosphere!”

Aziraphale gave a wet laugh. “I was going to...The Metatron...He wants me back in Heaven.”

Well that sent a chill down Crowley’s spine. He whirled before Aziraphale could tighten his grip again. “And you said no, right? Tell me you said no!”

The angel’s face was pale, stricken. “I didn’t.” He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. Then he looked Crowley in the eye. “But I will. There are big things afoot and...and I hoped w—I could stop them from the inside. But if you’re going to be brave enough to admit you love me….”

He tilted Crowley’s chin down and gazed at him with an almost overwhelming wonder. “Then I won’t be a coward who leaves your love unanswered.”

And the angel swallowed nervously, then quickly moved forward to kiss the demon for the very first time. It was the greatest miracle either of them had ever known.

It was also a very powerful thing, on a level that Crowley wasn’t sure was strictly metaphorical. It felt like they could actually, literally, conjure a new sun.  

Crowley grinned as they moved apart. “I don’t think anyone in Heaven or Hell is going to be happy about that.”

Aziraphale looked sheepish but grinned right back. “Then they can write an angry letter. To a new address.”

“New address?” Crowley blinked. “You can’t leave this bookshop…”

“I think I may want to, actually.” Aziraphale touched a tender hand to Crowley’s cheek. “Because there’s someone I still very much want to give a home to.”

Crowley’s heart thudded. “They’ll still come for us, you know. We’re still in danger. The world is still in danger.”

Aziraphale nodded solemnly in return. “Yes. We’d better spend what time we can planning. And more importantly, seeing just what ‘our own side’ can do.”

“Right...Okay, yeah.” Crowley nodded a few times, vague ideas already forming in his mind. “To start maybe we could—”

Aziraphale kissed him again, fiercely. Crowley felt them both fill with even more power and magic and love. It was intimidating. Crowley pulled back, breathing hard.

“Good...point...angel.” Oh someone, was his breath glowing? “We definitely need to do a lot more research on what ‘our side’ is capable of.”

And Aziraphale smiled, looking downright devilish. “Absolutely. Remind me to take notes.”

The bookshop remained closed for another week, regardless of anyone who tried knocking.