Work Text:
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
You’ve got this, Aziraphale, he told himself. But it didn’t feel that way, now that his feet were on the ground. He rolled back his shoulders. His hair was longer than it had been, and he had developed a bit of a beard in the time since he left.
He winced as the memories come flooding back. Nothing lasts forever. No nightingales. We could have been us. I forgive you. Don’t bother.
He’d really messed up, this time. This had felt like the biggest argument, the biggest rift that had ever come between them. It had torn his heart into a million pieces. Leaving Crowley behind made him feel as though he was missing half of himself. Truth be told, he was missing half of his self when he wasn't around Crowley. Nobody understand him like that wily serpent did. Nobody had been through what they'd been through together, and come out of the other side it, closer than ever.
Only to be so cruelly torn apart. It was tempting to call it fate, but Aziraphale could recognise it for what it really was: him looking at Heaven through rose-tinted glasses that Crowley had tried, and failed, to tear off him. He got it now. Crowley knew, better than anyone, just how corrupt and ridiculously bureaucratic and truly awful Heaven could be.
'Oh, Crowley,' he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as so many lovely memories turned painful flooded through his brain. When he opened his eyes again, they were teary. He quickly wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his coat. Took another deep breath. 'Here we go.'
After a moment's hesitation, Aziraphale stepped forward, and opened the door to his bookshop A.Z. Fell and Co.
'Angel?!'
'Oh, Crowley.'