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“That sounds, um…”. Aziraphale trailed off.
“Lonely?” Crowley finished.
They were sitting on a rock, looking out over the Sea of Galilee (though it wouldn’t be called that for quite some time). Aziraphale was still internally reeling.
He had…he had…he had defied! He had disobeyed! He had broken the rules! He had lied straight to Gabriel’s face!
And nothing had happened to him. Apparently, nothing was going to happen to him. Crawley had been quite amused by the idea. What had he said?
I’m not gonna tell anybody. Are you?
He had said it so nonchalantly. Like something like this could just…could just happen, and go unnoticed!
Which it was, apparently. Going unnoticed. A not insignificant amount of time had passed since Aziraphale’s defiance and this conversation, and nothing had happened. He had been…left alone. Very much alone, in fact. (It had been getting rather lonely.)
Unbidden, a thought entered Aziraphale’s head.
This thought was: if Upstairs didn’t notice this…what else might they not notice?
Normally, Aziraphale would have shoved that thought far, far away and never thought of it again, but today, right now…well. If They hadn’t noticed the other thing, the big thing…they certainly wouldn’t notice this little thought.
Aziraphale kept that thought, that small bit of “what else might They just not notice” floating in the back of his mind.
“But you said it wasn’t.” Aziraphale said in answer to Crawley’s reply.
Crawley made a little upward movement with his shoulders. It wasn’t a shrug. Nor was it anything else. Aziraphale was quickly learning that many of Crawley’s movements could not actually be put in a neat box with a label. Much like the demon himself. He really wasn’t like any other demon that Aziraphale had met, or even heard of.
Aziraphale was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t hear Crawley’s reply.
“I’m a demon.” He said, softly. He paused. “I lied.”
Aziraphale glanced sharply over at Crawley, but found him looking out over the water.
Aziraphale looked out over the water too, and the silence settled between them.
He didn’t know what to make of this silence. It wasn’t oppressive, no, certainly not that, but it wasn’t quite companionable, not yet. A breeze began to blow over the water and onto them. Aziraphale found himself looking over and watching how the wind ruffled Crawley’s hair. It shone even brighter than usual in the sun.
And that’s when it hit him. What the silence was. It was expectant. It was waiting.
Something was going to happen, and the world was holding it’s breath.
Aziraphale held his breath too (he didn’t need to breath, really, but it was a nice habit that he had already fallen into). He bunched his robes in his fists and waited.
Something was going to happen. And he was not going to miss it.
(The thought “what else might They just not notice” circled over and over in his head.)
He kept looking at Crawley. (Something was going to happen. Something was going to happen to them. To the the both of them.)
Crawley didn’t look over, didn’t even appear to notice the expectant atmosphere in the air, or the fact that Aziraphale was staring at him.
(What else might They not notice what else might Upstairs just miss in their inspections?)
Crawley was the one who broke the silence (though not the aura of expectation).
He slapped his hands on his thighs a trifle louder than was necessary (could he feel the silence too?). “Well. That’s that. Really must be off, you know.”
He stood up and brushed some dust off his robes. “Places to go, people to tempt, wiles to enact. You know, the usual stuff.”
Aziraphale still didn’t say anything. He continued looking at Crawley, feeling nothing but a thought of: “wait, don’t go, we’re in this together, aren’t we? And something’s supposed to happen, can’t you feel it? The way the air is heavy with, dare I say, meaning?”
Of course he said none of this out loud. Crawley kept dusting off his robes, even though there wasn’t anything to dust off. He seemed to be stalling for time.
“Alright. Well. See you around, angel. Maybe. Dunno.” Crawley shrugged again.
There was another pause. Crawley seemed to be screwing up the courage for something. Aziraphale waited. The world still held it’s breath.
Abruptly, Crawley leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to…somewhere in the vicinity of his cheek. Perhaps on the temple. It was hard to tell, as it was so quick.
It wasn’t…well, there was nothing unusual, per say, about the kiss. After all, it was a usual farewell in this time and place. And it wasn’t even that terrific of a kiss (not that Aziraphale would know, of course). Barely a peck, if that. More like a brush of air.
Crawley immediately coughed, very loudly. “WELL yes. Off I go.”
He turned on his heel and made to take a step away.
But he didn’t get further than that.
Aziraphale caught the sleeve of his robe.
“WAIT!” He said, much too loudly (it was the kiss, it had to be. It had barely been there but it had certainly done something.)
“Wait.” Aziraphale repeated, softer.
Crawley stood very still. The water lapped but nothing else moved. If it was even possible, the world held it’s breath even more.
“Please stay.” Aziraphale said. “After all, it was…is…rather lonely, don’t you think? Just being by ourselves.”
Crawley went even more still. The water continued to lap and for a while it was the only sound in the world. Aziraphale did not take his eyes off Crawley as he fished for more words, right words.
(They hadn’t noticed how much did They not notice?)
“It would be…nice…to be…lonely…with…you.” Aziraphale finished lamely.
Crawley didn’t move.
For a moment, Aziraphale feared he had said the wrong thing. That Crawley would shake his hand off and walk away, and the moment would be broken and something would be lost. Something that was hovering on the edge of fulfillment now, something that Aziraphale was now willing to recognize had been there since another potential filled moment on a wall…
Crawley dispelled all his doubts by sitting right back down, close to him this time, almost touching.
Aziraphale let go of his sleeve and was about to return his hands to his lap, when he was surprised by Crawley taking one.
They sat like that, for a moment, holding hands. Crawley’s hands were warm and rough, and the nicest things that Aziraphale had ever felt.
“Are you sure?” Crawley whispered, after a silence, above the lapping of the water. “I’m…broken, you know.”
Aziraphale smiled. (They weren’t noticing They hadn’t noticed what else would They just not notice?). He gently rubbed his thumb along the back of Crawley’s hand.
“Broken like me, then.”
Crawley whipped around to face him. “No you’re not, angel, no you’re NOT.”
And this time when Crawley kissed him it was definitely not a puff of air near his cheek.
Nobody noticed when Aziraphale kissed him back.
***
“Do you ever wonder, angel, what might have happened?”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale looked up from his book, and down at Crowley, lying sprawled on the couch, as usual. Crowley was blinking lazily up at him from his accustomed spot (his accustomed spot being, as it had been for the last five thousand or so years, Aziraphale’s lap.)
“Like, do you ever think about what might have happened if I hadn’t kissed you? If you hadn’t asked me to stay?”
“Hmm…” Aziraphale considered. He looked out the window onto the green fields of the South Downs. A bird flew past the window.
“Not really.” He answered.
“Yeah.” Crowley closed his eyes. “Neither do I.”