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"Did I say the wrong thing?"
"No," Aziraphale breathes. He turns around and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest even though he's not sure he has one anymore now that reality isn't what it used to be. It hurts, the hammering, it makes it hard to breathe and see but he can see Crowley's open face. There is so much pain painted on that face. Such sorrow, such despair, such hopelessness. The ache of knowing Aziraphale's the one who put it there is dull and familiar by now.
Crowley stands, waiting, and the look on his face is killing Aziraphale.
"I just-" he begins. I just can't believe you'd sacrifice us. I just want to be with you. I just want to hold you until the pain you're carrying is a distant memory. I just don't know you if this is what you want.
"Did none of it matter?" he haltingly says instead.
"What?"
"You say you want a real universe, with free will. You want the humans to have a chance, and Crowley," he reaches up to put his palm to Crowley's cheek now, and allows himself a smile, "I love you for that." There is a sharp but barely audible intake of breath.
"But, my dear boy," Aziraphale continues, "what about this universe? All the things we've seen and done, all these hundreds of years, was none of it real?"
There seems to be a silent war within Crowley but then he leans into Aziraphale's hand ever so minutely. "We didn't do anything, angel," he says softly. "The humans definitely didn't." His eyes are still so sad. Aziraphale can barely bear it. Crowley was always so impassioned, so fiery, and now…
Aziraphale takes a deep breath.He closes his eyes briefly. Crowley doesn't move a muscle. When Aziraphale speaks again, it is slow and with intent.
"We watched an eleven-year-old boy stop Armageddon by choosing his friends and deciding who his family was."
Crowley actually laughs, a dry, derisive laugh. Aziraphale feels his jaw move in his hand. "Adam's gone. He's never existed. Same for his little friends, and Warlock, and the kids who threw pie at you, and all children of the universe, even God's. We didn't watch anything."
"But we did," Aziraphale insists, dropping his hand from Crowley's face in favour of tightly gripping his hands. "We were there. It happened, you know it did. You convinced me that it mattered, that we had to try, that we couldn't very well let the world end. And it didn't end because Adam made a choice, and it mattered so much it saved everything."
Crowley shakes his head. "If God wanted the world to end, it would've. And it has, now. This decision, the one we're about to make, is the first one to ever make any difference. Better make sure it won't be the last."
It's getting difficult to keep the tears at bay. Crowley only watches, his hands limp in Aziraphale's. Only the tearful glimmer in his eyes betrays his feelings.
"Ask me what I want," Aziraphale chokes out because he just has to make Crowley understand. His vision is fuzzy but he thinks Crowley's eyes widen.
"What do you want, angel?" he indulges gently. A shuddering gasp makes its way from Aziraphale's chest to his throat and escapes. Crowley has always indulged him but Aziraphale's never been able to repay the favour with the full truth before.
"I only want you, Crowley," he finally admits, after years and years and his voice trembles with their weight. "I want us. I want you to be happy. Look me in the eye and tell me that doesn't matter."
Crowley's eyebrows do a complicated dance and his eyes get so big and wet again and Aziraphale squeezes his hands with all his might. He holds his breath and braces for the blow, but as is customary with Crowley, it never comes. Only a sigh and the smallest of headshakes.
"You were always the one telling me to see past God's plans. I ask you to see past them now. For me. Because even if She's decided who we are, from your eyes to my bookshop, we are who we are. We have made our choices and we have felt the weight of them. Even if the weight was ultimately Hers to bear, we aren't lifeless pawns in her game. We think, we feel, and I don't care how we got there." He whispers the words with a conviction wholly new to him. He has been so afraid all this time.
Crowley swallows. "I don't think I've really felt in a long time," he mutters, not looking at Aziraphale but his eyes still impossibly open. Aziraphale feels his gut twist with the exact knowledge of how long a time that was and even more so with the knowledge that Crowley is wrong. He's been hurting so much he became numb to it.
Aziraphale lets go of one of Crowley's hands. He lifts his trembling fingers to his mouth and kisses them and lays the kiss on Crowley's soft lips. He has longed to do this since he left, to share a sweeter kiss with Crowley than they got. Each breath feels like a battle.
"Are you feeling now?" he whispers and his hand only falls away when Crowley nods against his fingers. For a few moments, Aziraphale can hear his breathing and the songs of the birds.
"Don't do this, angel," Crowely pleads then. "Don't make this any more difficult. Just let us create a universe where all that feeling means something."
Aziraphale feels his face crumple along with his heart. Six thousand years of being afraid to feel, to call the being he loved above all others his friend.
"Oh, Crowley," he utters brokenly. "You are my meaning. Just as Adam's friends and family and Tadfield were to him, and Beelzebub to Gabriel. What else is meaning? Why should anything matter for a reason other than that it matters to someone? Everything in our universe has meant something to someone. Please, don't give all of that up."
A single tear runs down Crowley's cheek. Aziraphale wipes it away and lets his hand remain there. Crowley's voice is just as broken as his when he speaks.
"Nothing lasts forever, remember?" he says, impossibly gently through the cracks. Aziraphale finally understands what those words must have sounded like to him three years ago.
"Even when you've found your meaning, it just goes away. Maggie's record shop, it meant the world to her, and so did Nina. Mutt's gone. Every human we've met, they all died in the blink of an eye. You asked God-" He makes a small, pitiful noise and shakes his head. Aziraphale takes his hand again.
"I know," he breathes.
"God gives and She takes, all for Her own amusement. She orchestrates all the love and all the pain, we don't get any say in it. It's a cruel universe."
Aziraphale thinks back to seeing Crowley lying in a dirty alley, the picture of hopelessness. It broke his heart to see him like that and he didn't even know yet how much Crowley had lost. All he had left was a dusty, empty bookshop in a once-friendly street that had lost its soul. Aziraphale looks at Crowley as he stands before him now and sees only despair. His chest constricts painfully. Cruel indeed.
"But I only just got you back," he says and he barely recognises his own voice, high-pitched and as desperate as Crowley looks. He's being selfish, he knows, but then, isn't Crowley, too? Wanting a new universe because he can't bear being in this one anymore.
Aziraphale brushes his thumb across Crowley's cheek. "I don't want to lose you again. It doesn't matter if God orchestrated us and the rest of this universe. It's ours, and the people's, and we all deserve the chance to live and love and find our meaning. After all these years, we deserve a chance."
Crowley shakes his head. "This universe doesn't allow people a chance. All they can do is live out the Great Plan," he says and he spits the words out like they're poison and Aziraphale is starting to think they are.
"Then we'll ask God to end Her plan," he says in a rush. "We'll ask Her to leave the people alone and to make sure Heaven and Hell do, too. But we can't let a whole universe of people and meaning be erased from existence in favour of people who haven't even evolved yet."
For the first time, there is doubt in the way Crowley's brows furrow. Aziraphale squeezes his hand and after a second's delay, Crowley grips his in return.
"We already have a real universe, one that matters. We won't save the humans by starting over," Aziraphale tells him. He's proud of the steadiness of his voice. "We just have to change it. We can still be an us."
He wipes another of Crowley's tears away and watches him shake minutely with silent sobs. "Dearheart, I know how much you've lost and how much loss you've seen. But that doesn't mean there's nothing left."
Crowley trembles before him and his voice wavers. "Are you sure, angel?" he asks like everything, everything comes down to this.
"Quite sure," Aziraphale says with a soft defiance and all the faith he's ever had, because it does. He touches his forehead to his demon's and finally, Crowley reaches out, pulling Aziraphale close with his free hand and moving to rest his head atop Aziraphale's shoulder. He breathes shakily.
Aziraphale isn't sure how long they stand in their embrace, the increasing wetness against his neck his only way to measure time. He revels in stroking the soft strands of red hair and loses himself in his heart still hammering in his chest.
"Okay," Crowley whispers after an indeterminate amount of time. "I trust you."
God turns around as they materialise. "What took you so long?" She asks.
"Well, it's hardly an easy decision," Aziraphale says. "Fate of the universe." He smiles at the way Crowley's lips curl up.
"So?" Satan asks. Aziraphale sobers. God is expectant, curious. It occurs to Aziraphale that She's never had the pleasure of seeing what happens next.
"We want you to put things back the way they were," he says.
"And then for you to sod off," Crowley near-hisses. "Heaven and Hell, too, all the angels and demons. They can have their war for all I care, but no one's going to be messing with human affairs anymore. And when they die, nada. The world they live in should be the real world. You only get to watch from now on."
God tsks. "How predictable," She says with a disdain that makes Aziraphale wince. Crowley looks about ready to strangle Her and Aziraphale quickly takes his hand.
"But I did promise. Very well, then."
Aziraphale thinks he sees the ghost of a smile before everything is light, blinding light, and he thinks he may never see again but at least he feels Crowley's hand in his. Then, the light fades into dust particles and Aziraphale and Crowley are alone in the shop.
Sunlight filters in through the window. Crowley and Aziraphale look at each other and laugh simultaneously, hand in hand.
"So what do we do now?" Crowley asks.
Aziraphale barely hears the question. There's birdsong coming from outside. He lets go of Crowley's hand and opens the bookshop door and there it is, a nightingale, wings fluttering as it flies inside. Aziraphale's heart swells and Crowley looks close to tears once again.
Aziraphale feels the love radiating from Jesus more than he sees him, but he looks around the corner anyway to find a small congregation gathering around him.
"Angel?" Crowley prompts, so very softly. Aziraphale turns around and melts at the look in his eyes.
"Now," he breathes, "the universe has another chance, and we get to watch the humans hope and love and reach out to one another. We'll watch them build their future and create their meaning all by themselves. And we get to do it, too. Nothing to fear and nothing left to forgive."
Crowley nods, and the smile blooming on his face outshines his most radiant nebula. "I like the sound of that."
Aziraphale feels his cheeks hurt with his own smile. Finally.