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DING!
The elevator had gone all the way Up and finally stopped. The doors slowly opened.
“Well,” Metatron started, leaving the cabin, “I will show you to your new office, Archangel.”
“Erm…”
“Are you coming?” With a hint of impatience, Metatron looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale, who was still standing in the elevator.
“I… It’s so good you asked. Actually… I think I made a huge mistake,” Aziraphale mumbled.
‘What?’ Metatron turned sharply on his heels, moving back towards Aziraphale. “Don’t be so silly, child, I’m offering you… What are you doing?!”
After six thousand years of working as the Voice of God, you do not often find yourself surprised. That’s why Metatron couldn’t quite describe the strange feeling that made his eyebrows shoot up to his (perfectly fine for his age!) hairline as he watched Aziraphale slam the Earth button without even waiting for him.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I’m the angel for the job. Please know I mean it with all due respect, sir! I’d much rather be a… consultant… Or an independent…”
The doors of the elevator closed, not letting Aziraphale finish the sentence.
Metatron sighed.
“We should probably have an HR department. I cannot do all the recruiting myself, can I?”
***
The elevator was going down at a regular speed that was supposed to be comfortable for any celestial being, should a sudden desire to visit Earth strike them. To Aziraphale, however, it felt like the elevator was falling. Strange, given that the crawl Up had seemed to him so painfully slow.
There was probably a metaphor there somewhere. Or maybe Aziraphale was just having a panic attack.
“God, what am I going to do now? Oh, sorry, that was rhetorical. Although, if you could…?”
Aziraphale closed his eyes and listened closely to the answer.
“EARTH,” said the electronic voice, as the elevator stopped again.
***
“Earth,” Aziraphale repeated. “Okay. Jolly good.”
He looked at his bookshop across the road but could not bring himself to go in there just yet. He’d deal with Muriel later. Instead, Aziraphale walked briskly to the nearest phone booth. Some might even say he ran, almost causing several cars to crash, but they would hardly be able to prove that anything of the sort had happened, now, would they?
Aziraphale made a call, but there was no response. He tried again, and then looked at the dial seriously.
“Listen, dear. I know people don’t usually ask this of you, but I do need you to send a text message to my good… friend.”
The dial looked back, clearly not understanding what it was supposed to do.
“Come on, dear. Please try. I know you can do it.”
In all the sixty years this phone booth had been in use, it had never sent a single text message. And, well, doing something for the first time is always a bit scary. Honestly, all these smartphones make it look so easy! Still, when such a sweet man asks you so nicely…
With mixed feelings of surprise and pride, the phone booth found itself sending its first text message. Alas, even for the nice man, it could do nothing to make the recipient read it. They were probably driving.
“He is probably driving.”
***
The good thing about being friends with somebody since before the time began is that you know pretty well what they might do when they are heartbroken. Or upset. Yes, upset, don’t get ahead of yourself, Angel. Now, seeing a huge OUT OF ORDER sign on the door of the Planetarium, Aziraphale knew that he had come to the right place.
The hall of the Planetarium was empty, but from behind an almost closed door Aziraphale could see flashes of blueish and reddish lights.
Aziraphale entered the room quietly. All the seats had been removed, and if it wasn’t for the yet-undiscovered-by-humans nebulas and stars on the ceiling, he might have even believed that he had come to the wrong place.
As it was, Aziraphale went further into the room, and, sure enough, saw Crowley’s silhouette lying on a huge bean bag in the middle of the otherwise empty room. Aziraphale came closer.
“Would you mind if I joi-”
“For fuck’s sake!” Had he been sitting in a chair, Crowley would have surely toppled over, but that’s another great thing about bean bags: they are extremely comfy, but they also won’t make you feel bad about yourself when a really good friend who may or may not be the love of your life suddenly jumps at you out of nowhere. Figuratively speaking.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you…”
“You didn’t startle me!” Crowley hissed, putting on his sunglasses. “I just didn’t expect to see you here in the next couple of centuries, Archangel.”
Sometimes Crowley could really make his words sound poisonous, which should not be so surprising, given that he was at some point the Serpent of Eden. It’s just that Aziraphale wasn’t used to the poison being directed at him.
“There’s no need for that, Crowley.”
“Oh really? What, have you come to tell me about the new office? Or how the Good Side is ready to take me back? I’ll pass, thanks. Was good seeing you, don’t be a stranger.”
Back to bean bags: if only everything in life was as easy as sitting in a bean bag and reaching out for the bottle of wine that is standing right on the floor near a potted fern. Zero chance of falling, extremely comfortable, no need to get up. Highly recommend.
Aziraphale lowered himself to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Crowley. I should never have suggested it. I should never have considered it.”
For the first time during the exchange Aziraphale felt Crowley actually looking at him.
“No. No, you shouldn’t have. Wine?”
“Please.”
For several moments, they sat quietly, passing the bottle to each other.
“Fuck, I just… I don’t get it.” Crowley jumped to his feet…
(Well, for the sake of narration and the good name of bean bags, we’ll say that he jumped to his feet and not awkwardly flapped his legs and arms to get up.)
…and started pacing the room.
“Why did you even agree to it in the first place? We were good, and we were working, and we finally, finally were on our side! And then you just…”
“I’m sorry, Crowley. I made the wrong choice. Or, I guess, I didn’t actually make it.”
“Yeah, but why?” There was something very similar to pleading in Crowley’s voice, and Aziraphale was very acutely aware of how much distress his decision had caused his… best friend.
“Because I thought we could teach them! I thought they could change, and they would finally stop trying to destroy each other, or humanity, or the universe, or… They would just stop.”
Crowley plopped down on the floor near Aziraphale, sitting way less elegantly than the angel.
“Why the change of heart then?”
“Because I don’t want to do any of that alone. And if you’re not coming, I’d rather stay here with you. If it’s okay?”
Aziraphale could physically feel Crowley’s desire to fight disappear.
“Yeah. It’s fine,” the demon answered with a little strain in his voice. “So then we’re… back to normal?”
Aziraphale felt as if something heavy was finally lifted from his shoulders. He hadn’t yet ruined his only meaningful relationship, after all! Well, then maybe, just maybe…
“You kissed me. In the bookshop,” Aziraphale started tentatively.
Crowley groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“Can we please just deal with one crisis at a time?”
In the most unangelic fashion, Aziraphale ignored the plea.
“Did you mean it? Or were you just trying to stop me from going?”
“What do you think?” Crowley asked his knees.
Very slowly, Aziraphale turned to him and placed a hand on his best friend’s cheek, turning Crowley’s face towards himself.
“May I?” He asked softly.
Crowley nodded, and then Aziraphale kissed him. And, unlike the kiss in the bookshop, it wasn’t desperate. It was hopeful.
“Okay. Yeah, erm, cool. Yep. Pretty much. So. The Ritz?”
You may be friends with a demon for six thousand years, but then you kiss him, and he turns all shy and bubbly. Who would have thought.
“Remember when you asked me to deal with one crisis at a time?”
“Ugh. Is it really that important?”
“I know what they are planning Upstairs.”
“Are they starting tomorrow?”
“God, I hope not.”
“Good. We’re going to the Ritz then.”