Chapter Text
Perhaps that’s what made it hard. Loving him and wanting to remember. The dreams that came, vague. The chain he’d been asked about, palms burning with the thought. He didn’t share it with Crowley. How could he? He didn’t remember, and perhaps the thoughts were simply suggestions until he was jerking awake.
It’s a rare occasion neither of them were together, Aziraphale having fussed hard over inventory. In and out, in and out. The fatigue of his dreams chased after him until he’d promptly crawled into bed alone.
That vague feeling was suddenly abrupt and vivid. Dizzy thought as he stood in white halls, hearing an all too familiar scream. Crowley. In hindsight, dream was too nice of a word. It was awful, suffocating; a nightmare. The desperation between his lips, begging his love to be spared from that agony. I love him! The words nearly tasted like copper.
Do you now…?
That voice sent chills up his spine, body tense as he stood still. His dreams never spoke to him before. He waited for consciousness to greet him.
Do you?
A beat, heart hammering. I do… I— I want to remember… He wanted to know why it all felt so familiar, why the burn of his palms was suddenly agonizing as if he were yanking those chains again, clinging to them. I want to help him. Help me help him. Please, help me help him. That guilt writhed in his chest.
It would be just as easy to make you forget…. That tempting voice soothed.
Guilt itched in his aching hands.
or we could make a deal…
A deal…? With who? He wasn’t sure but something tugged in his chest, cautioning him.
You return to where you came from, and I can return his sight, angel…
“I—…” What had that meant? Angel? It hadn’t felt like a nickname.
You love him, don’t you? That other being that sent him on edge reached their hands out, thumbs pressed into his palms.
The blonde found himself jerking awake in the haze of pounding head and burning palms. The agony ripped from his throat.
It took him until the next morning to realize the flesh was tender, as if it were a new burns above the old. His thoughts swam, distant and so familiar while avoidance followed him like a dog, tending to the wounds and licking them in private.
Crowley would think he was mad. He half believed he was, too.
Until the dream happened again and again, on and off. Until he could feel that voice taunt him, drawing him in each time. The offer thickened between him and that other thing in his nightmares until he sat distantly at the island in Crowley’s flat. He hadn’t held his hand in days, skin wrapped and ointment beneath that was used to try and soothe the ache. He certainly knew he must have woken Crowley up with the way he bolted from bed that very morning, embarrassment hot across his neck.
He hadn’t given The Devil his answer. At least, he nicknamed that thing that plagued him annoyingly as such. He still wasn’t sure what it was. It didn’t feel good. He certainly protested its nightly hand holding. He was afraid to ask for more in fear of what it would ask in return.
He could help Crowley, but if it continued to burn himself? He didn’t know what it got out of the entire situation. He just knew he was tired, and he knew that guilt burned inside of him just as heavy as The Devil burned his palms.
He waited until they were both awake and in the kitchen. “Do you dream about… about chains?” It sounded just as silly as when Crowley had asked him.
"Chains?" Crowley whispered softly, working to make himself coffee. He didn't like to have Aziraphale do everything for him, and he'd been acting strange, anyway. Crowley had felt it when he'd bolted awake that morning, left him suddenly. And he'd been... distant. he didn't understand it, and that just made it ache all the more. He wished he'd just talk to him. "Not that I recall. What's wrong?"
Aziraphale inhaled quietly. “Do you have dreams about anyone talking to you?” He asked then, hesitant after. That certainly made him sound insane. “I just — I keep having these dreams…?” Except dreams didn’t actually hurt people, did they?
"You're asking someone with a severe head injury, angel. I'm not a great metric." Crowley said wryly, though there was concern buried beneath the attempt at humor, his brow furrowing. He sat next to Aziraphale with his coffee, reaching for him hesitantly. His hand brushed his partner's sleeve, and he gently smoothed his touch down his bicep once he'd found it. "... Tell me."
“You’re going to think I’m the one that had suffered the head injury.” He meant for it to be light but there was a genuine fear there. What was he supposed to say? The boogeyman talks to me when I’m sleeping. Says he can help you.
His body was tense beneath his lover’s touch before he forced himself to relax. “I have these dreams… of white halls and — and you’re in pain,” he murmured quietly. “There’s this other… person.” He wanted to choke on that word. People didn’t set him as uneasy as that being did. “And it… they say that they can fix this whole situation if I agree with them.” It was hard not to be rigid as he spoke. “And I — I thought it was a dream, but we have that same conversation almost every night. That if I agree to go back to that place — whenever it is — he can give you your eyesight back.”
Part of him wished Crowley would tell him he was crazy. Dreams of it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it feels like Satan…” He pressed his hands together. He’d left that detail out. It was enough to process as it was.
Crowley's face continued to twist with concern, more and more as Aziraphale went on. His expression did something severe at your eyesight back , part anger and part something else, until Aziraphale continued with it feels like Satan.
There was a soft tsk sound, in that voice that sounded like clear bells, as something clicked back into place in his mind. Annoyance with Satan for undoing her hard work.
"Angel-" Crowley whispered, though this time, the word held a different weight. His hands blindly found Aziraphale's face, holding it. "I don't want that. I don't care about my sight - don't leave. Please don't go." Don't do that to me again. not again. not the same thing.
Aziraphale felt a deep chuckle somewhere, ignoring it as he peered at his lover. I love him… rang in his thoughts. Had this all really all happened because he loved him? “But what if it could help you?” It’s so quiet, so tender. The worry was deeply rooted in something else. Though, the context felt hazy.
"I don't want it." Crowley growled, "I want you."
Aziraphale was quiet, fingers eventually reaching to pull at his shirt and fisting in the material. Quiet. So very quiet. “I just want you… I just want this to be enough…”
Crowley pulled him closer, the angel's head against his chest protectively. "... Leave him alone." He hissed, seemingly at no one in particular.
They need their memory. God said softly to Satan, her soft, wise voice clear, from everywhere and also nowhere. It won't stop haunting them.
Aziraphale clung to him, arms around his waist as he leaned into him. “It’s alright…” he tried to soothe the redhead.
And what do I get out of giving them that? They knew the conditions… Satan huffed somewhere in the in between, always wanting and always gambling.
Did I not win this bet? God said smartly, They found each other despite the difficulty you presented. Their immortality, their memory, his sight. I believe you owe me one.
Satan grumbled and growled. Fine… Through gritted teeth. But either of them could become mine at any time… they threatened, very much a sore loser in the matter.
God hummed, pleased, content to continue the rest of their game at a later date. To the two beings who had heard all of this, she placed a metaphysical warm hand on their brows, and released them from their nightmares, thousands of years of memory returning and understanding, still mortal minds a bit miraculously helped to hold so much. They would no longer be troubled or haunted by what was missing.
... Crowley woke on the stone floor of his flat, knowing quite a bit more than he had before he apparently passed out. He didn't know it, but Aziraphale lay close to him, both of them losing consciousness as God withdrew. Both unharmed, a warm feeling still lingering.
"... Angel?" Crowley called, his hands searching.
It took Aziraphale a moment longer to wake, soft sigh leaving him at that distant but warm call of that pet name. He was more aware of who he was than what he had been. “Crowley…” he murmured, a soft sigh as he shifted himself up. It took him a second to orient himself in the waking world, shifting over and reaching to press his hand into one of Crowley’s. “I’m here…” softer, surprised as the words left him. Right here. Right where we’re meant to be.
"Aziraphale...!" Crowley's voice rose in pitch before finally the Angel murmured his name, and he relaxed, clinging to his Angel's hand as soon as he found it. Oh, oh he'd nearly gone mad without him, marched back into Heaven to get him back. He'd been ready to do it again, too.
Aziraphale sat on the floor with him, drawing a few breaths. He had so much he wanted to say. So much he thought on. His heart was beating faster as he realized that they were still together. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly.
Crowley moved closer and drew him into a tight hug, clinging. "... Yes."
The tight hug was met with his own strong embrace, fingers pressing into the material of his shirt. It wasn’t even a second thought. “I love you,” he blurted then, needing to say it.
"I love you." Crowley repeated softly, his voice wobbling. "I need you. love..." He whined softly. Oh. Oh.
Aziraphale pulled back a fraction, reaching to cup his cheeks. “You have me,” he promised, pressing kisses to his face then, trying to steady that wobble. A light pepper across his cheeks, to the tip of his nose. He pressed his lips just beneath his eyes before landing on his lips.
Crowley abruptly smiled under that kiss, breaking it as he couldn't keep his composure, a few tears slipping down his face as he laughed. "... Oh. I know what you look like, hah."
Aziraphale couldn’t help his own tears, laughing then with him. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, shaking with soft laughter. He was clinging to him once more, overcome with relief as his fingers fisted in his shirt and the laughter broke to a soft sob.
Crowley held him just as tightly, his hands fisted in the back of Aziraphale's dressy shirt. They stayed like that, clinging together and trembling with their own emotion for what seemed like a very long time. Processing thousands of years worth of memories and making them fit with the last few months. Both were true, both were them. They'd always find each other.
Aziraphale managed to gather himself again, easing to sit up. His limbs were certainly stiffening from their time on the floor. “How about we move to the couch?” He whispered soft, fingers easing over the wrinkles he’d left in Crowley’s clothes.
Crowley nodded, keeping hold of his Angel's arm as they moved. His angel. He'd always known that, somehow. It was funny how many habits they'd carried over.
The blonde didn’t let go of him either, getting to his feet slowly and helping the lanky redhead up. It was evident that, memories aside, they were painfully human now. He wouldn’t trade anything for it.
Leading the former demon to the couch, arm looked with his, he settled them both before cupping Crowley’s face gently in his palms and kissing him again, deep and slow. The need to touch was unbearable, to make sure they were both certainly there. He only parted several moments later, thumb gentle over his lower lip. “Are you sure…?” He whispered. Are you sure you want this?
He absolutely melted into that kiss, a soft sigh leaving him when they parted and Aziraphale's touch lingered. "... Yes." He said softly, but with the utmost conviction. "This is me. M'still the same, Angel. I..." it did hurt a little to know more of what he was missing. And oh, his car. Still. "I've seen enough, we've seen the world over so many times. I just want to be with you. I... I don't need fixing. I'm still me."
“Oh, Crowley,” he cooed quietly. It wasn’t pity. The tip of his nose brushing against his Crowley’s, ready to mold his lips to the others. He found restraint, though. “It’s never been about fixing you — I love you as you are, no matter what,” he assured. He couldn’t let his love think that. “You’d really choose this life with me? Even if it meant you couldn’t drive the Bentley?” He whispered softer. He wanted Crowley to think about it, to think about what he would be giving up. Not to dissuade him, of course. He was still in slight shock of it all.
"Always." Crowley said softly, without a single beat of hesitation. "I'll always choose you, Angel." He almost wanted to laugh - did Aziraphale really just ask him if he'd rather drive the car? It wasn't really about that though, it was... everything, but his answer did not change.
Aziraphale almost asked him to marry him then. Almost. Not quite, instead occupying his lips against Crowley’s in another kiss that could have toppled both of them over sideways on the couch.
Crowley kissed him back, deepening it and pressing every bit of feeling into the way their lips fit together.
Aziraphale smiled.
This was them. This was right. Nothing truly changed — aside from the plethora of memories and six thousand years of living they’d done.
It’s a warm day in the park a few weeks later, fingers interlaced as they’d fed ducks. No Heaven or Hell or sides to be had; just their own. While his palms sometimes itched with the cold or felt uncomfortable in the heat, they felt just right there in Crowley’s hands.
“Dear…” The former angel hummed softly. “I have something for you.” The affection was in his tone, fond as gently turned Crowley’s hand over in his until his palm was up. He pressed a small velvet box in his hand then, a gorgeous ring inside.
They’d been together for six thousand years, always crossing paths. Perhaps it was silly to propose all together. Yet, they were human now. He wanted to partake in that silly little tradition. Til death do us part.
Aziraphale had driven them there in the Bentley. Crowley had been nervous to go to her in the garage after they remembered, sort of afraid it would... just be a car, since he was by all rights, human. Without his powers, was it still... y'know, a part of him? Sort of half sentient? He felt bad for neglecting her, but he hadn't known. His smile had been nearly blinding in itself when they climbed in and Aziraphale started it, and immediately from the radio belted Oooh, you make me live-
"I missed you too." Crowley'd purred, patting the dash.
So Aziraphale drove her, now, now that they knew she'd also keep pristine for him.
"Hm?" Crowley murmured questioningly as Aziraphale turned his hand over, and dropped something into it. He felt along the velvety shape, a soft oh leaving him as he realized it felt like a small ring box.
His heart hammered as he pried it open, feeling along the ring inside with curious fingers. "... Oh. Love." He whispered, a sort of delirious little sound leaving him. "Yes?" He laughed; it seemed almost silly to even ask, when they'd gone through heaven and hell for each other. He held the box tightly in his palm and threw his arms around Aziraphale's neck, kissing him.
Aziraphale was quick to gently set his hands upon his waist, kissing back as he held him close. The joy warmed him, cheeks warm and smile splitting his lips that eventually ruined their kiss. “So — so that was a definite yes, correct?” He teased gently, sliding his arms around his waist.
"Yes, angel." Crowley purred. "Yes I'll marry you."
“I love you,” he murmured softly, kissing him briefly then. “Do you want to put it on you?” He asked gently, still beaming. “Because it’s engraved on the inside,” he added, excited. To the world.
Crowley smiled lightly, offering him back to the box. "Sure, angel. Please." He held out his hand, offering those thin fingers. A few onlookers in the park were murmuring at the little display, oh gosh how cute, but he ignored them.
“Please?” He teased softly, taking the box back and opening it to get the ring out. He held Crowley’s hand in his, gently slipping the ring on. “Not very demonic of you,” he hummed humorously, kissing him again.
"Retired demon, remember?" Crowley hummed, before he was captured in another kiss, his hand catching Aziraphale's and holding it firmly.
Aziraphale intertwined their fingers, holding his hand gently. They’d spent so long pretending, so long avoiding. He didn’t want to waste another second. “My home is always going to be you.”
"And you'll always be mine." Crowley purred, running his thumb over the ring fondly.
Aziraphale was softer, watching him intently. “What if we moved somewhere together?” He asked. All of those times that Crowley had suggested such, begging him to leave. They could go anywhere now. Albeit, anywhere on Earth. “Make somewhere our home together.”
"... Yeah." Crowley breathed. if he could be grinning any more, he would be. "Yeah, we should. Our home. Somewhere in the country." Where he could smell the sea, maybe.
“Somewhere quiet,” he added. “Just for us…”
That’s what they did. The next few months were spent looking, touring, exploring. Nothing quite right, either not accessible enough or not what they were searching for. Until one place stood out. Spacious, able to house the plants and books. Yet, cozy enough to be home. He’d held onto Crowley’s hand, fingers intertwined as they walked the space. He helped Crowley mind his step as he could.
Through the back of the house, he enjoyed that the sea wasn’t too far off. Viewable from the porch, air light around them. “So, what do you think?”
"... This is the one, Angel." Crowley said softly, feeling the breeze from the sea on his face, his hand tight in Aziraphale's. "... Ours."
“Mm, I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “It has everything for us… everything we were looking for.”
"It's perfect." Crowley whispered, turning his head to catch a proper kiss. "Let's spend the rest of our lives here." However long that may be. Together.
Aziraphale beamed. “Let’s…” he whispered, entwining their fingers.
They wouldn’t be parted again.