Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Armageddon had come to pass, which wasn’t originally part of the Divine Plan as the angels and demons had stated for thousands of years. An angel and a demon’s execution had also passed, much to the uncontainable shock of Heaven and Hell. It was the top gossip for the next several months, and it eventually got stale and they moved onto other things to talk about. Such as the feeling that something (or someone) that had been purposefully hidden away for Millenia resurfaced, perhaps something that should've stayed hidden. When most think of something along those lines, they expect the HorsePeople to rock up and get busy. Unlike last time, this was a little more... modern. More loud, more boisterous, more excitable. A forgotten piece of the Ineffable Plan that suddenly decided that now would be the perfect time to get tangled in the affairs of Heaven and Hell a little more openly.

A figure stood in front of a very important building. They’d been standing there for a couple minutes, neck craning as far back as it could to see the top. They looked a little bummed that they couldn’t, returning their gaze to the entrance and striding forward. The swivel doors steered them in, and they immediately looked down and lifted their foot at a sound they didn’t expect. The floor was wet, and they made a noise of annoyance. Two escalators. His colleague had requested he go upstairs first, and then head further down into the building afterwards. He didn’t want to do either, quite frankly. Could’ve sent five of the others but no. It had to be him. He exhaled the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, straightening his leather jacket a little and made his way over to the escalators on the right. A familiar feeling settled into his very core, and he placed his hand on the railing as he stepped on and was sent up. The first thing he noted was how open it was in terms of space. There were no paintings or any sort of decorations as he set down the hall, which made him feel a little smaller than he would’ve liked. They could’ve at least put out a table with a plant or something. He rounded the corner, one of the guards in front of the very large door suddenly looking away from an interesting spot on the wall to him and seeming rather caught as to what to do. He watched as they tensed and looked to the other guard, who looked just as baffled. He stopped a couple feet in front of them, looking back and forth between the two before.

“The door, please.”

Scrambling to action, the two pushed open the large door and stood by each of them.

“Thanks.”

The figure stepped in, making a beeline for the several other figures who were standing in a haphazard circle of four. The shorter and stockier angel, Sandalphon, turned as the doors shut and he spoke to the others. Gabriel, and then Michael looked, Uriel the last to focus in on the stranger. He rolled his shoulders back and walked a little straighter, a little taller, a little more confidently. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to drop into a hole and land on a nice sunny beach with a cocktail.

“Are you the contact from Limbo?” Uriel asked.

“I am. Here to discuss whatever it was you all deemed so urgent.”

Uriel huffed, their eyes flicking to Gabriel expectantly. He was the one who requested their presence, but with the way his eyes widened and his jaw went slack they guessed something wasn’t right. Michael looked just as surprised, if not more.

“What is it?” Uriel demanded, and Gabriel seemed to recompose himself.
“It is... good to see you again.”

“Doubtful.” They remarked. “You haven’t been in contact with Limbo for at least four thousand years and then you send a letter of urgency regarding several events that we were both aware and unaware of.”

“Armageddon did not occur.”

“I’m aware. Otherwise, Earth would have crumbled months ago.”

There was a pause. Perhaps left a little too long once Gabriel realised it was so they could speak.

“There were... variables we did not think would affect the coming of the end of the Earth.”

“Variables you want Limbo to sort out, no doubt.”

The angels collectively nodded, albeit sheepishly. That earned a sigh from the other, who shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He was nothing like what they expected. Black jeans with black and yellow sneakers, a shirt with the name of some obscure human reference they were sure. Their jacket was absolutely covered in metal pieces, decorative they assumed.

“Do these variables have names? The one from Heaven specifically.”

“Principality Aziraphale.” Michael said, and the figure nodded.

“Aziraphale. Okay. Any particular method or punishment you’re hoping to have him dealt with?”

“I think at this rate he’s a rogue angel.” Michael said. “Do with him as you please.”

The figure nodded, swivelling on their heel to leave the room if Gabriel hadn’t called out first.

“Archangel Raphael.”

The figure paused.

“Do you have anything else to say regarding your absence from Heaven?”

The room was quiet for a moment, and then the figure spoke up again.

“No.”

Sandalphon bit his tongue as Raphael pulled open the doors and disappeared around the corner of the corridor, finally looking to Gabriel.

“That was Archangel Raphael? From Heaven?”

“We assumed he had fallen.” Michael admitted, looking to Gabriel as well. “I didn’t know he had simply transferred.”

The archangel said nothing, staring down the now empty corridor before the doors clicked shut.

“Well, the fate of Aziraphale is out of our hands and in his.”

He gestured vaguely with his hand as he strode off, leaving Michael spluttering behind him to wait and, surely there was more to be said!

Raphael clicked the button to bring the elevator to the level he was on, watching the numbers slowly count upwards as it came up. Occasionally it would stop at a particular floor, as every elevator did, and he would become more and more aware of the stares from angels passing by. They couldn’t help it, so he didn’t blame them. An archangel, who had been missing for five thousand years, suddenly showing back up in Heaven under the guise of a contact from Limbo? It was sure to send tongues wagging. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, the angels already in it moving to get out before pausing at the singular figure outside. One of them stopped in the doorway, the lot of them only moving when the doors began to shut on them. The elevator emptied out immediately, Raphael stepping in and clicking the button of the floor he needed to be on. He double-tapped the button to close the door, hands shoving into his pockets as the doors shut and the elevator descended. He didn’t like being this high up. It was too close to the angels he left behind, the job he had originally been assigned. Too close to Her. He hadn’t spoken to Her in a while, though neither had She spoken to him. He didn’t hold any bad thoughts around it though; it was just a fact and he didn’t expect Her to to chat with him purely because it had been a while. The white lights that peeked through the small slot of the doors slowly stopped, darkness sitting outside the elevator as it slowly came to a stop and dinged. The doors opened and Raphael immediately took a start to get out, raising his hand that immediately met the chest of one of many demons that suddenly all came to a halt.

“Wait, please.” Raphael said, steering the demon back out of the elevator before moving through the sea of demons that parted for him.

It was dark, cramped, dirty, and there were far too many people all in one place. Reminded him of a shopping centre on the weekends. All those families walking in one big line and effectively becoming a human barricade? Certain it was one of Hell’s crowning achievements. He eventually came to a stop at a door, turning the handle and stepping in to find a variety of demons in fold-out chairs in front of a… Lord above, that projector was ancient! Beelzebub stood on a small podium, likely so ze could actually be seen by the demons in the back, and was now focused on the uninvited angel standing in the doorway. Hastur stood from his chair up the front, but Raphael took no notice as he looked to Beelzebub.

“You wanted to chat about the lack of Armageddon on your part?”

The demons eyes swivelled back to Beelzebub.

“We had a traitor.”

“Sounds like Heaven had one too. You want Limbo to take over as well, I assume?”

The Prince of Hell chewed on the inside of zis lip for a quick second before zis eyes flicked to Hastur. Neither had expected contact to arrive so quickly. It was hectic in Hell, and nothing actually really got done in terms of paperwork.

“Name of the demon in question.” Raphael started.

“Demon Crowley. One of the Fallen.”

If Raphael had a dollar for every time Hastur sneered at anything, he would have a lot of useless change lying around.

“Alright. I’ll get on it.”

And with that the angel turned, shut the door, and headed back down the corridor, leaving behind a room full of rather confused demons who were unsure what his plan actually was. Or whether he actually had one.

Crowley didn’t get many phone calls. When he did, it was usually from Aziraphale who invited him out for lunch or for a quick walk out to St James’ Park to feed the ducks. The angel, his angel, had recently been told that bread was actually quite terrible for their health and feed them seeds or oats instead. He’d been rather upset that he had been unknowingly harming the fowl for centuries, and Crowley was incredibly frustrated he couldn’t find the sod that told him about the bread. Having Aziraphale drunkenly sob about the poor birds had been rather funny for the first two hours. Not so much the next forty-six.

Anyway, the phone call. Crowley now stared at his phone, his more modern phone that is, as an unknown number flashed on the screen. Another telemarketer no doubt. One of Hell’s other achievements. He clicked the power button twice, leaving the buzzing and ringing as nothing but a faint memory. For about five seconds before it began to ring again. He pressed the power button again, twice, and the phone rang a third time. They weren’t going to win. Crowley wouldn’t let them. He pressed the button twice again, and a text message came through this time. Normally, he wouldn’t have opened it. If anything, he was two seconds away from swiping it off his screen until he glimpsed Aziraphale’s name part way through the first sentence. That sent his non-essential heart into maximum overdrive and he opened it up.

You’re literally harder to contact than Aziraphale, and he still uses a rotary phone.

Well, that wasn’t as bad as he thought.

I'm sure you’re busy doing whatever it is you do; dining out, driving places, stopping Armageddons here and there. You know; the usual.

 

That, however, was not so good.

Beelzebub sent us a real nasty letter about you. You know what it’s like to read a ten page letter about one demon’s traitorous behaviour for the last six thousand years? I had things to do, you know!

 

Beelzebub? What would Beelzebub want from some random… actually, who was this person?

Anyway, Hell said that we’ve been given authorisation to figure out what to do with you. Heaven also gave me direct jurisdiction and authorisation over Aziraphale. Yay!

 

No. No ‘yay’.

I don’t expect much, but I would like to see you at the address in the document attached by the end of the week. Aziraphale booked in for tomorrow morning so you can send a text back to book me in whenever.

 

He didn’t want to go at all. Why would he go to someone who explicitly stated they were working for both Heaven and Hell? His phone buzzed, and Crowley noted there was another message from them.

Oh also, I forgot to tell Aziraphale on the phone but! There’s this new bakery down in Central London? It has really good honey cakes and sells them with honeycomb pieces and stuff, so can you tell him next time you see him? Thanks boo ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

 

Crowley stared at his screen for a solid minute. Was he receiving text messages from a teenage human? He opened up his contacts, thumbing Aziraphale’s contact and immediately calling him. For a reason he couldn’t place, his heart hammered in his chest. Would Aziraphale pick up? Was this some kind of cruel joke? Had Hell finally figured out that if they kidnapped Aziraphale it would be the most torturous thing they could ever-

“Hello Crowley!” Aziraphale chirped.

Oh, never mind. He was alright.

“Angel, we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

“Oh yes, I received a call from a rather young fellow.” Aziraphale took a sip of his wine, leaning back into his chair as Crowley’s leg bounced uncontrollably from the sofa opposite him. “He seemed rather intrigued about the whole ordeal. Said that despite all the paperwork this particular task was providing, he was riveted by what we had done leading up to our… failed executions.”

Crowley made a noise that could’ve ranged from a groan to just him clearing his throat. Just because this new person was excited about their doings didn’t explain who he was. Didn’t explain his motives, his plans, his allegiance, and loyalty. Could’ve just been some fake personality concocted by Heaven or Hell. Though that was giving them too much credit to do something smart.

“Who is he? He say that in your little chat?” Crowley said sharply.

Aziraphale gave the demon a look, but he knew he was just stalling for time to think up a good reason why he didn’t know the other's name.

“Well… he did say he wasn’t aligned with either Heaven or Hell.”

“What is he then? A horseman? A human?”

Aziraphale didn’t seem to know the answer to that, taking another sip before swirling it about in the glass.

“Whatever he is, he knows the ways of Heaven and Hell. If they truly trusted him enough to give him authority over us then he must have some power.”

“Or he’s pulling it out of his ass and is just some random human who managed to get his hands on some info.”

It could have been possible, though Crowley could see Aziraphale’s nose scrunch up a little and the apples of his cheeks turn a bit rosy. The demon decided he was a little too sober, snatching a bottle off the side table and popping the cork with a tremendously satisfying noise and tilting his head back. Normally the angel would chastise him, squawking to not get it on the sofa. Or the carpet. Today, he was lost in thought.

“It’s just rather odd.” Aziraphale started. “Why would a human wish to meddle in the affairs of greater power?”

“That’s every human, angel. Come on.” Crowley dragged out, peeling off his sunglasses and chucking them haphazardly onto the side table.

“Perhaps, but this one is too knowledgeable.” The angel leaned back in his armchair, looking at the wine within his glass before he spoke up again. “Perhaps… they are somewhere in between?”

“What?”

“Well, maybe they are not human. But they may also not be an angel or a demon. They may instead be something else entirely.”

“The only things outside of Heaven and Hell are humans and the horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“Not necessarily.”

Crowley gestured vaguely for the angel to continue as he took another swig from the bottle. Limbs were sprawled out on the couch, and he’d kicked off his shoes so he wouldn’t get cursed at for putting his feet up. He’d made the mistake of doing that once. Never again.

“Well, I heard through the grapevine that there is a contract that Heaven signed over five thousand years ago with an unknown department. Angels that once frequented Heaven suddenly disappeared, and I heard they took demons as well.”

“Well, well, I never thought you as the type to gossip Aziraphale.”

“Crowley.” He said sternly, then sighed. “Regardless, perhaps this department has been given… charge of us. Rather, what they should do with us.”

“You saying that some neutral forces are in play?”

“I’m saying that we may have to be incredibly careful about how we refer and speak to the members of this particular department. If anyone could figure out how to properly kill an angel and a demon, someone on neither side could.”

Crowley had already thought about the idea that they could both discorporate. He always did. But now that Aziraphale was leaning forward in his chair, attempting to ignore the warm buzz that had enveloped him as alcohol always did, Crowley had never been more aware of the possibility that they could die. And never return.

“Crowley, as much as I don’t like to think about it we do need to have a plan if things do go sour.”

“No, no, I know. It’s just… it fits.”

“Fits what, dear?”

Crowley squirmed under the watchful gaze of the angel, managing to wriggle up a bit and sit up.

“Y’know like… always against the world. Against people.”

Aziraphale snorted, covering his mouth once he realised he had done so. His gaze shifted to the floor before they flicked back up to Crowley and his hand returned to his wine glass.

“You do bring up a valid point. I do think, however, that these folks won’t be as foreboding as our original sides. We… We are on our own side, as you said.”

Crowley would be lying if he said his lips didn’t curl upward in a ridiculous sappy smile at that. He was right. They were on their own side. They’d gone six thousand years at one another’s side, and had stopped Armageddon, thwarted their executions and everything else the world had thrown at them. What would make this particular venture any more different?

“We are on our own side.”

“Quite right, dear. I’m sure we can handle whatever this new department will throw at us.”

Aziraphale had never been so wrong. They weren’t prepared. Who was he kidding? Crowley had offered to come along to this ‘appointment’ but the angel had (sternly) declined. He had enough (absolute dick diddly) trust in this mystery person and was determined to find out who they were. Their vessel was young, he could tell that much from the phone call. They also liked food, the colour yellow, and ran a nursery in Greenwich by the old observatory.

So now he stood outside said nursery, the cast iron gates held open by two stone gargoyles on either side. It looked more like a jungle than a nursery, and he took a deep breath before walking in. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to expect, but he did expect to be ambushed. Which, surprisingly, didn’t happen. All he saw was some very healthy looking plants, the occasional statue tucked away amongst the greenery, and a hairless cat wearing a tartan sweater out on the porch that meowed and brushed against his legs as the angel paused at the door. Giving in, he leaned down and scratched underneath their chin, earning a purr that could rival the engine of a motorboat.

“Hello dear. Enjoying the outdoors?”

The cat meowed in response as Aziraphale checked their name tag, almost guffawing at the sight of ‘Fro-Yo’ etched into it.

“Fro-Yo? Oh, your owner must be quite the character.”

The cat, now realising Aziraphale wasn’t going to give them any treats, chirped and wandered further onto the porch to find a patch of sun. He pushed open the door, the scent of sandalwood and vanilla enveloping him like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, and stepped inside. Everywhere he looked there were bookcases, lined with books, and various other trinkets. The angel took notice that there was a hefty collection of plants on the top of each bookcase, just making out the stained glass windows behind each one that held stories he couldn’t comprehend. The sound of something scraping above him made his gaze head to the rafters, the large head of a twelve-foot python lowering and flicked its tongue at him. Bright golden eyes and white scales, hints of lavender peeking through along its back. It stared.

“Don’t mind her. She won’t bite.”

A familiar voice called out, and Aziraphale finally noticed the young man sitting behind the counter. His face was blocked from a book he was reading, but not even the angel could miss the bright red mohawk they were sporting.

“Ah, I’m here for an appointment.”

Without lowering the book, the man flipped a page up on a clipboard to his left before letting the paper drop.

“Are you Aziraphale?”

“I am.”

The other closed his book and tucked it underneath the counter, allowing Aziraphale to get a good look at him. He wasn’t remarkably tall, neither was he short. His eyes sat behind a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses, that were more decorative than anything, and he had a softer face than the angel expected. His cheeks were dotted with freckles that almost seemed golden but that probably wasn’t possible for a human.

“You’re in the right place. I didn’t expect you to show up on time, is all.” They grabbed the clipboard and leaned on the counter. “Do you need a chair? I can get you a chair.”

“I’m quite alright.”

He was not.

“You sure?”

Maybe a chair would be nice.

“I’ll- I’ll take a chair.”

A wave of the others hand and a bar stool popped up in front of the counter, Aziraphale cautiously getting situated onto it.

“Alright, so I’ll just run through what home office gave me and then we’ll talk about what happens after yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Cool. That’s cool. Some stuff about what you used to do, um ... ah! Here it is.” They tapped the clipboard. “You were to be executed for fraternising and being apart of the group that stopped Armageddon.”

They didn’t look up at Aziraphale, staring at the clipboard before he spoke again.

“What is fraternising? Is that, like, a sex thing?”

The angel felt his cheeks flush a bit, finding the other was quite serious.

“No, no. It’s, ah, when you are in communications with someone you’re not supposed to be speaking with.”

“Oh! Oh, that makes more sense. So, what, you were in cahoots with a demon or something?”

“More or less.”

“How long have you and this demon been working together?”

That was a good question. Crowley and Aziraphale had danced the same dance for over six thousand years. It was strictly business. They just had terrible luck in running into one another constantly. Though their argument at the bandstand had given Aziraphale a glimpse into how Crowley viewed their alliance. Or well, friendship.

“Dear me, almost… six thousand years.”

The other seemed surprised.

“That’s a long time! I take it you two are close.”

“Quite.”

He hummed, flicking through the pages.

“The reason I asked you to come in was to let you know what’s going on. You’re a special case, don’t you know?”

“No.” He answered, honestly.

“That’s fair. Usually, they just give us a bunch of angels that suck at their jobs every couple of years and toss in some haphazard excuse. But you.” He waggled a finger at Aziraphale. “They gave me a three-page list as to why they were having you transferred. So congratulations on being the first angel to well and truly annoy them enough to write an in-depth report.”

That wasn’t something to be proud of, Aziraphale thought.

“You’re right underneath the demon Hell is getting rid of as well. Ten-page report, chock full of stuff.”

“Would this demon happen to be… No, it isn’t my place. Apologies.”

“You think it’s your demon friend?” He asked, disappearing underneath the counter and coming back with a clipboard that looked like it was struggling. “Uh… Anthony J Crowley. Is that them?”

“It’s actually pronounced Crowley. Similar to the bird.”

They looked back to the paper, raising their eyebrows and nodded.

“That’s a better way to pronounce it. Thanks.” He set it on the counter. “Anyways, Heaven wasn’t so subtle that they wanted you dead to officially get you out of their hair. I, for one, never really did care for what Heaven wanted so I’m going to make them regret handing you over to me.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“If I told you, would you actually do it?”

Aziraphale didn't think he could. He didn’t even know how this person's mind worked, let alone their real views towards Heaven. Then his mind spurred into overdrive as a sudden realisation hit.

“I don’t believe you ever said where you worked, dear boy.”

“Limbo; Department of Healing and Travellers, Sector 0.”

“Might I ask for a name?”

“You already have one.”

He let a disapproving snort escape him which elicited a laugh of delight from the other.

“I’m sorry, things have been getting wound up so tight lately it’s a real mood killer. Everyone has been so moody.” They shook their head. “I’m Archangel Raphael, originally of Heaven: Department of Healing, creator of the stars, and some really ugly sea creatures that humans drug up from the depths.”

Aziraphale nervously laughed.

“That- That can’t be right. Archangel Raphael was declared missing over five thousand years ago.”

“That’s bullshit! I never went missing. I was transferred.” He snorted. “What, did Gabriel tell you that?”

“I- yes?”

“Actually, no, you're right. None of you would’ve known any better. Most of Heaven didn’t even know Limbo was a thing.”

Raphael leaned on the counter, staring at Aziraphale like he was a difficult math problem before he leaned back and clicked his fingers.

“Looking at you now, I remember you. You were Guard of the Eastern Gate in the Garden, right?”

“Oh um, I-”

“Yeah, no you were! And you came down to say hello after the Great Flood. You haven’t changed a bit! It’s nice.”

“Nice?”

“Heaven was constantly changing. Always need the newest technology. Sometimes it’s nice to just bask in what you know, know what I mean?”

Aziraphale nodded. He finally knew what he meant. The angel flipped through the clipboard one last time before fully abandoning it and looking to the angel.

“Alright, so I’ll have to head back to head office and figure out where you properly fit and all that jazz. Might put you under Chamuel. Maybe you’d be good under Ariel or maybe-”

“I-If I may?” Aziraphale raised his hand as he cut the other off. “May I request being placed in your department?”

Raphael looked at the other blankly.

“You want to be in my department?”

“Well, just before you were… transferred, I was under your supervision.” Aziraphale explained. “I’m sure what you do in Limbo will be different from what your duties were within Heaven but… it would be my honour to work under you again.”

The archangel looked a little pink, and he drummed the counter as he looked away. Poor lad hadn’t changed a bit either.

“I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”

Aziraphale smiled, and the archangel laughed and waved his hand.

“Alright, now get out of here. Paperwork is a pain in the ass and I just wanted to let you know what was going on. Now shoo.”

He clambered off the barstool, heading for the door before chancing a glance back to the counter. Raphael watched him in fascination. He guessed it had been a while since he’d seen a friendly face.

“It was truly wonderful to see you again.”

“Likewise, Principality Aziraphale. Safe travels.”

The angel opened the door, closing it softly and bidding farewell to Fro-Yo who had taken to lying on the swinging chair on the porch. They chirped in response. Aziraphale felt a lot lighter knowing Crowley would be in good hands. Perhaps it would be best to tell him not to worry too much. Maybe leave out the part that he was going to be meeting an archangel who was thought to have fallen. Aziraphale was sure he’d be fine.

Crowley felt like he was going to discorporate. He hated this. He hated not knowing what he was getting himself into. Usually, it was with Aziraphale and he knew he could do a lot of things when he was in the picture. However, the angel had refused to go with him, assuring the demon would be fine going off alone. So long as he didn’t take this particular character seriously. What the blazes did that mean? So here he was: sitting in a random cafe and drumming his fingers on the table to distract himself. He’d received a text a couple minutes before he arrived saying that they were going to be late. Apparently the guy was ‘busy’. Doing what? Having him writhe in his seat with anxiety? If so, he was doing a fucking fantastic job at it.

“Thank you, dear.”

Crowley looked up at the voice, watching an old woman shuffle out of the store as a younger man held the door open and seemed to roll in. Now that he looked properly, they wore a full black suit with gold hemmed into it and would have looked extremely well put together and serious if they hadn’t replaced sensible shoes with black and yellow roller blades. Striking red hair shaved into a mohawk, yellow-tinted sunglasses and several golden pins attached to their blazer gave Crowley something else to look at other than the table. One of the waiters turned as they rolled over, a grin spreading on their face with teeth a little sharper than they should’ve been for a human. And Crowley was suddenly aware of the many people in this cafe that were not human. The barista glowed a little too brightly, the waiter’s were always where they needed to be a little too quickly, the man by the window seemed to growl when a dog passed by. He would never admit to almost jumping out of his skin as the man rolled over and leaned on the chair on the other side of the table, staring down at him.

“I take it you’re Hell's most recent pain in the ass.”

The demon lowered his sunglasses as he took up the seat, thanking the waiter as they brought over a dark soda then disappeared. They were painfully familiar.

“I mean, they gave me a ten-page report about all the stuff you did. That’s a new record!”

Go- Sa- Somebody above, who the fuck were they?

“I don’t know what it was that got under Hasturs skin but woof! He does not like you.”

“Killed a Duke of Hell.” He muttered.

It was on the tip of his tongue; he could taste it.

“Oh, that’s ballsy! Honestly, do they even do anything?”

Was it the revolution in France? No, it was before that.

“Every time I ask them to get paperwork back to me they take fucking forever!”

It was definitely before the Black Death. Maybe they were part of the Round Table?

“And then they complain when I take an hour too long to respond to their letters? As if I’m not already drowning in paperwork as a-“

Crowley slammed the table, the other saving his drink from spilling with an undignified squawk. The demon leaned forward on the table, so proud he’d finally figured it out.

“You!.”

“I- what?”

“You! You’re the- the- fuck- the angel from…. ah, shit!” He clicked his fingers to try and find it. “The Great Flood!”

‘The Great Flood? Oh!” They inched up in their seat. “It’s you! You cut your hair!”

Their original business facade melted away, and they were suddenly softer. More angelic, with the sharp edges filing down and they looked more and more familiar.

Aziraphale had left shortly after the rain began. He couldn’t handle the pain that was to come, and he was an angel. He couldn’t do anything that would otherwise look bad. Crawly- Well, Crowley now, stood where Aziraphale had left them. They could hear the distant sound of the animals in the ark, and then the sound of heavy footsteps. Unlucky buggers, they thought, being late to go extinct. Though at the sound of several people yelling out and pleading, followed by the sound of several children crying, they turned just in time to duck. A figure dressed in white robes jumped the fence, a young teen clinging to their back, a baby tucked into the chest of one of the children they held in each arm and one more holding onto them across their chest.

“Oi! You’re not gonna make it!” Crowley yelled out, and the rest of their words died in their throat.

Two golden wings unfurled from their back as they leapt and took to the sky, the demon realising very quickly that that was no human. That was an angel. Doing the number one thing they shouldn’t have been doing. They disappeared on the top of the ark for a couple of moments before they soared back towards the group. Those with children clamoured forward, and Crowley considered disappearing amongst the chaos if the front of their cloak hadn’t been snatched and they were whisked forward. Two golden eyes stared into their own, feet hooked against the fence as their wings stretched out behind them. What an awful way to discorporate.

“Are you planning to do your job and fuck up God’s plan or are you going to sit here and watch the children drown?”

Crowley’s eyes widened in bewilderment before their robes were let go and the angel grabbed the child that was thrust into their arms. The demon was turned around, a baby put into their arms by a mother with tears in her eyes.

“Please.”

They turned back to find the angel ready to take off again, meeting their eyes. They were going to fall. And Crowley be damned twice over if they didn’t get on their good side before then. The demon scooped up another child, allowing another to cling to their back before their own black wings shook themselves and they took to the skies alongside the angel. The teen from the first group was waiting outside the door, extending their arms to take the baby from Crowley’s arms before ushering the children downstairs. The angel went to take off, but their arm was grabbed by the demon.

“You are a foolish angel if you think God will let you remain in Heaven after this.”

The rain was coming down harder, and the last shreds of sunlight struggled to peek through. The distant roll of thunder and a flash of lightning reminded them of what little time they had to go back and get the rest of the children.

“I’d be more foolish to let them die because of something that is not their fault. I am the Patron of Healing and Travellers. It is my duty to make sure those adult humans are healed to the best of my ability.”

“And how does this help?” He squawked.

The angel searched Crowley’s face for something, and the demon wasn’t sure if they found it.

“To heal the hurt, to give them peace of mind before their inevitable death, they desire their children to live on and survive. That is how it helps. If I fall-” They stared up at the sky for a brief moment, before looking back to Crowley. “I’ll know it was because I did the right thing for Her creations.”

Crowley watched from afar. Aziraphale had gone off to tend to those that had left the ark and had voiced his surprise at the multitude of children that had accumulated throughout the trip. The Great Flood had subsided, and Hell had seen an influx of human souls condemned by Her. The demon had watched over the children that they’d saved and left on the ark, as per the request of the angel before they returned to Heaven. Wouldn’t want Noah finding out about the stowaways, they said with a smile. It would make you look bad in Hell. Now, he watched Noah and his family step onto the still wet Earth and stare up at the sky and say something. Aziraphale came to stand by Crowley’s side, dusting off the dirt that had gotten onto his robes before looking out.

“Well. That’s all finished.”

“It would seem so.” Crowley said, looking to the angel. “Do you know what happens next?”

“Ah, an angel is to come to Earth and gift Noah the knowledge of healing.”

Crowley made a noise that suggested they were only sort of listening. Aziraphale made a noise of minor excitement and gestured to something coming down from the sky, that was much too big to be a bird.

“There he is now!”

Brilliant golden wings and Crowley knew it was the same angel from the start of the Great Flood.

“Who is he?”

“That is Archangel Raphael; Patron of Healing and Travellers. He was in the Garden of Eden before… well, you know.”
“The Garden of Eden? I didn’t see him.”

“He visited briefly. Sent by Her to remind Adam to not eat the Forbidden Fruit.” Aziraphale explained, and Noah bowed his head to Raphael who handed something over. “He’s rather kind. Asked me to keep an eye on Earth and Her creations.”

Noah spoke for a little while before the angel took to the skies, circling back around to land near the children who squealed in delight and ran to him. Aziraphale seemed to remember himself, looking to Crowley briefly.

“I’m sorry- I have to... “

“Go.”

“You really bounced around in terms of evil-doing after that, huh? Stopping Armageddon with an angel! Cheating death in a tub full of Holy Water! I wish I could’ve seen the look on their faces.” Raphael laughed, clapping as he did so. “I also heard you worked on the M25.”

“And I heard you Fell.”

Raphael cringed before he shrugged.

“Didn’t fall. Just transferred.”

“To Hell?”

“Limbo. Department of Healing and Travellers. Still doing the same shit.”

“Huh. Thought Limbo was something the humans came up with.”

“That’s what I thought! Turns out that’s not the case. I was transferred after my stunt during the Great Flood.”

He knew She wouldn’t have let him stay. Openly working with a demon, manipulating him into doing what he was supposed to do, standing by his decision to save the children. Yet he didn’t fall. Only transferred.

“So, what? You were just demoted?”

“Don’t say it like that. Aziraphale lost his sword and he was demoted to a Principality. Glad I left anyway. Gabriel hasn’t gotten any better.”
“Fuck, you’ve no idea.”

The archangel laughed a genuine laugh, and Crowley wondered how different Limbo was. It had to be, considering an old archangel thought to have Fallen was offering a demon a job. Raphael checked his phone, a look of annoyance evident on his face before he glanced at Crowley.

“I’ve got to cut this short. But look, Aziraphale put in a request to work under my department. I know you two are close friends.”

Crowley made a face.

“He told me.”

Crowley didn’t make a face anymore.

“I’ll see if I can put you in the same sector and department. No promises but I’ll try.” The angel stood and tucked his seat under the table. "Good catching up with you, Crowley."

Raphael sculled the rest of his drink. He waved goodbye to the waiter and skated out the door, leaving Crowley a little lost at the table. That’s certainly not how he expected the meeting to go.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was because of the way Raphael had said it. I’ll try. Six thousand years and no one from either of their departments had said that they would try and do something for them. Crowley had returned home, only to get back into his Bentley and drive over to the bookshop. Today was a day where Aziraphale hadn’t opened at all. The angel seemed to have a lot to say but couldn’t find the right words. That was fine, because the demon was in the same predicament. Transferring to Limbo, guided by an archangel thought to be dead. There was a lot to unpack and not a lot of time to do it.

“Angel-“

“Crowley-“

The two stopped and erupted into a fit of drunken giggles. Aziraphale’s face was a little bit red, and Crowley felt his breath hitch high in his throat.

“Sorry, dear. You go first.”

“Right, well, I was thinkin’ ‘bout this whole Limbo business, yeah? All quiet and-and all? They don’t have a side, yeah? Not for or against God just… existin’.”

“It is rather odd. They could almost be mistaken for an entirely different species.”

“‘Cept they’re not! One of em’s an old archangel and the rest!” He flailed about. “Just a bunch of angels and demons kickin’ it! Sitting on their arses for the rest of time.”

“I’m sure they actually have jobs.” Aziraphale sipped at his glass. “But I… I see your point. If not fighting with the other side, what do they do?”

“That! That’s my point! No fightin’, no back channels, no hidin’. So what’s the big deal of putting us somewhere?”

Aziraphale hummed in response, staring into his glass.

“I don’t know. Maybe they actually do do something out there.”

“If he has time to drop into cafes and run a nursery he’s not busy.”

“We do similar things, Crowley.”

“S’different.”

That was fair. Though Aziraphale didn’t want to think about that right now. So far as they were concerned, they were free. Free from Heaven. Free from Hell. Free from prying eyes that had stared at them for six thousand years. Now under the supervision of Limbo, a place where angels and demons worked together if they worked at all. Did they do paperwork? Surely they did.
Crowley wondered what the other higher-ups were like. Raphael hadn’t changed much from the last time they interacted, so it was a guess as to what crowd he hung around. Aziraphale had told him that he dropped names of Archangels he’d not heard about for thousands of years, but he was sure Limbo had their own ‘archangels’, or at least angels taking up the guise as such. Hopefully, they were better than the ones in Heaven.

“Principality Aziraphale.” Michael started. “Angel of the Eastern Gate.”

Michael was unofficially in charge of Limbo. Aziraphale had learned that very quickly via word of mouth. He was similar to the angels in Heaven; stern, well dressed, and - dear he say it - stuck up. He had the personality of a lawyer, as Raphael had explained, and don’t let him get under your skin. Though that went out the window when he was brought to the meeting room alongside Crowley and seven archangels sat at a table and looked him over. Raphael’s brows were furrowed the moment he walked in, sunglasses too dark to see through and a yellow business suit Aziraphale never thought he’d see him wear. He didn’t seem the type to.

“We have looked through the report given to us by Heaven’s Archangels. We have also taken time to view the request you made to be transferred into Archangel Raphael’s department as per your original supervision whilst he was aligned within Heaven.”

“Thank you for taking the time to-“

“Unfortunately we have decided that you are not fit to serve under Archangel Raphael.”

Aziraphale felt his stomach sink, and he immediately looked to Raphael. He wasn’t looking. He was looking at the empty portion of his table. The angel was thankful Crowley was outside.

“You will be placed under my jurisdiction in the Department of Mercy, Justice, and Righteousness. I expect you will not disappoint and will be ready to complete your first assignment tomorrow morning.”

“I…” Aziraphale didn’t know what to say. “Will do my best.”

“Good.” Michael flipped through some papers. “Dismissed.”

Aziraphale swallowed and turned on his heel, closing the door softly behind him as Crowley looked up from the floor and stood.

“How’d it go?”

“I was-“

“Anthony J Crowley.”

The two turned as the angel outside the door beckoned for Crowley to get inside.

“You’re next.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He snapped, nodding to Aziraphale to chat more afterward.

The angel was nice enough to open the door for Crowley, shutting it as he strode up to the center. He recognised none of them, and Raphael looked like he was holding on by a thread. He looked at each of them, one by one. On the far left was a stockier angel, suit of red and long dreadlocks that probably came down to their hips. Next to them sat a woman in an orange blazer and a peach blouse, Raphael in a suit that he looked like he’d rather burn than be in. A woman with green lace and auburn hair, a serious looking angel next to her reading through paperwork. Another in beige clothing and purple hair stared at the demon, the lower half of their face more skeletal than human and the last dressed in a light pink robe and a giant grin on their face. They looked the most excited to be there.

“So what’s the verdict? Putting us under Raphael to work the gardens? Cause a little mayhem?”

“Anthony J Crowley.” Michael ignored the demons rambling. “We have reviewed your… extensive report given to us via Hell, and have also looked at your request to be placed under the supervision of Archangel Raphael.”

He was like the angels upstairs, and Crowley sneered at the thought. Strictly business.

“We have decided you are not fit to work underneath Archangel Raphael and have assigned you to the Department of Destruction and Renewal under the supervision of Archangel Azrael.”

The Angel of Death. Azrael, who Crowley guessed was the one with skeletal features, lazily looked over and leaned on the table as if discussing what to have for lunch.

“Your first assignment shall be tomorrow at 12:04 pm exactly at the Royal London Hospital.”

“Dismiss-“

“Oi!” Crowley cut Michael off. “What makes this department more ‘suitable’? S’not my cup of tea; Death.”

“Given your history of instigating several catastrophic events across the history of human civilisation, this Department is more than suitable for you,” Michael explained, and he looked to Raphael from across the table. “Unless Archangel Raphael can think of a reason as to why this department would not be suitable.”

“I think he’s upset that you think he’d be good in Azrael’s Department based on the fact that he’s a demon.”

“Which is not what this judgment was based on and you are fully aware of the procedure.”

“I am, but don’t you think this is very… Heavenly? To not listen to where they want to go?”

“If that was the case, how many angels and demons would be in your department?” Gabriel asked, and Raphael turned to look at her.

“I’m saying to at least give them a shot. If they don’t fit, or they don’t like it, then they can be transferred.”

“Oh! Sort of like a trial! An orientation of sorts?” The pink one spoke up with a clap. “That sounds like it would be incredibly-“

“Time-consuming and involve more paperwork.” Michael cut in, and a stern look was thrown Crowley’s way. “Dismissed.”

The demon stood where he was, and Azrael leaned over to the pink one to whisper something. Whatever they said elicited a disappointed mumble. Michael had gone to writing on a bit of paperwork, only looking up once he clearly realised Crowley was still there.

“You can go.” He stated. “Unless you have something of importance to say.”

“You’re just like the angels from Heaven, aren't ya?”

“I beg your-“

“Always going off what ya think is right. I-I-It’s absolute shit. Bollocks, the lot of it. You don’t think we know ourselves enough to know our strengths?”

“I don’t believe that-“

“A stick up your ass and fingers in your ears, just like the rest of them-“

“That is enough.” Michael stood, voice booming and looking like he was going to say something else if a balled-up piece of paper hit him in the side of the head.

The room came to a standstill, and all the angels slowly turned to look at Raphael who was holding another ball of paper.

“You don’t get to make the decisions of your own accord.” The archangel said. “We are to make decisions as a team.”

“We did. You weren’t present.” The green angel said, confused.

“I wasn’t present because I wasn’t notified.” Raphael looked to Gabriel. “As the Patron of Communications, isn’t that your job?”

“We felt as though, with your presence at the meeting, that you would be fairly biased to have two new beings transferred into your department.”

“You didn’t invite him to the meeting?” The angel in red leaned forward to look at Gabriel and Michael. “You said he was busy!”

“Wait, are we honestly teaming up on Raphael?” The one in green asked. “I thought he would have more respect as one of us!”

The angels began to bicker, and Crowley felt like he was intruding on a family reunion that had gone south. If this was Hell, something would’ve been on fire five minutes ago. The pink one seemed to remember Crowley was still there, snapped their fingers and mouthed ‘sorry’. Then he was outside, a little wobbly and disoriented. Aziraphale looked rather worried.

“Set them off did you?” The guard asked. “Don’t worry too much. Archangel Raphael and Archangel Azrael argued about thin mints last week.”

A screech and a loud clatter echoed from out of the room, the guard simply turning to the door. Seemed like this kind of thing happened all the time.

“I suggest you two find your allocated departments. Archangel Azrael’s Department is to the left. Archangel Michael’s is to the right.”

The angel and demon looked from hallway to hallway, coming to the realisation that they were going to have to split up. Aziraphale put on a brave face and squeezed Crowley’s hand.

“It’s only for a day, dear. One mission.”

“Right. S’not like it’ll be hard.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Aziraphale smiled, Crowley attempting to catch his hand one last time before the angel started down the hallway. The demon ignored the guard that had taken to looking at the tiles on the floor, starting the walk down to Azrael’s Department. Aziraphale was right. They would be fine. It was just one day. Just one day.

12:00pm.

Crowley moved through the hospital wing, the smell of medicine almost a little too overpowering. No-one stopped him. They couldn’t see him. Azrael had explained they always made sure no one could see those that worked these jobs. Made it easier. Dunno what it meant. He paid no attention to the signs as he wandered the halls. He knew where he was going.

12:01pm.

Focused on the job, focused on getting it done. One job and then he’d be good to go. Maybe he and Aziraphale could go down to that cafe he was so enraptured by afterward. He’d been going on about the cinnamon rolls for weeks. Maybe crack open that bottle of wine for special occasions.

12:02pm.

Crowley stood outside a door. Room 212. This is where he needed to be. Without any hesitation as to what was going to be on the other side, he pulled out the dagger given to him to do this job. Azrael said it made it easier to release the soul. They wouldn’t feel it, they said, and it won’t affect their physical bodies.
Crowley was certain they said that just to let him know there wouldn’t be any blood.

12:03pm.

The door opened, and Crowley stepped in. For a moment, he stilled. The dagger clattered to the ground unceremoniously and his chest seized up. A child, likely nearing the age of six, laid in a bed that was a little too big for them. Wires and tubes and other medical contraptions stuck to them, connecting them to technology that kept them alive. They looked tired, sickly, weak. An adult, the child’s mother Crowley assumed, held their hand as she laid her head on the bed. She was praying. Perhaps to God, perhaps to someone in particular.

I shouldn’t be here. Not up for killing kids. Big spooky fan me, but death? Not my department.

He took a step back.

They want me to stab a kid and what happens then? What happens then?

12:04pm.

An adult prayed. Machines beeped and whirred. A demon was no longer present in the room. And a child scheduled to die was still alive.

12:05pm.

Azrael didn’t receive paperwork to sign. In fact, they didn’t expect there to be. They were already filling out a report when Crowley barged into the office and slammed the dagger onto their desk.

“A child?!” He squawked.

“It was not my decision, Mr Crowley,” Azrael spoke a little too calmly. “Your mission was unsuccessful.”

“I- are- are you serious? You think paperwork is- you wanted me to kill a kid? What for? ‘Cause I’m just some demon? Is that it? Fits the job description?”

“No. I strongly advised against this particular assignment for you.” Azrael finished whatever they were writing, turning the paper so it faced Crowley and laid the pen on it. “Sign here.”

Crowley looked at it.

“What for.”

“New transfer. I did not want you to be transferred here. You do not fit into the department.”

Crowley signed it regardless, chucking the pen onto the table and started storming out of the office.

“Mr Crowley.”

He turned just as he reached the door.

“I will not lie when I say that the best department for you and Aziraphale to be in is Archangel Raphael’s.”

“Then why not put us there in the first place?” Crowley said. “What’s with all the-the kerfuffle?”

Azrael shrugged.

“You’d think five thousand years would be enough to prove yourself. It seems that Raphael is… lacking in gaining respect as a leader within Limbo.”

“He’s been the same for five thousand years. What, an angel isn’t good enough? Just kick him out. Get it over with if you lot don’t want him.”

“That isn’t what I was referring to. However, I do believe Principality Aziraphale is on his way back to Limbo.” Azrael checked another piece of paper. “I heard he did not succeed in the mission assigned to him.”

“Wassat supposed to mean?”

For a moment, the demon thought the worst. Did he get caught up in something? Did he discorporate? Was he injured?

“I suggest you go to Sector Three of Raphael’s district. I heard he asked specifically for you.”

Aziraphale hadn’t known what to expect. Archangel Michael had given off a very business-like vibe during the meeting, regardless of the fact it had escalated very quickly once Crowley stepped into the room. Now, he was shoulder to shoulder with an angel and a demon behind an abandoned house. They hadn’t told him anything. They had told him to change beforehand, and he was given a darker set of clothing that was loose and easy to move in. The demon, Yak, had stuck by him since he arrived with two of the angels. To make sure he didn’t get in over his head, he’d said.

Yak. You and Aziraphale circle round. Make sure they don’t get out.

The angel didn’t speak the command, but it was loud and clear in Aziraphale’s head. Yak nudged him, beckoning him to follow around to the back porch. The demon moved with bent knees, which Aziraphale mimicked. The demons head swivelled to survey their surroundings, which Aziraphale mimicked also. The demon summoned a gun, and Aziraphale stopped mimicking.

“Oh, no. Yak-“

Yak shushed him quickly, holding up his hand as one of the lights in the house turned on. They stopped, squatting in the darkness as they waited. Yak waved his hand back, the two moving flush against the porch stairs as the back door opened up and heavy footsteps neared the railing. They were human, from what Aziraphale could sense. They were tall and burly, with a gun slung over their shoulder as they lit a cigarette and stared off into the vast plains. Aziraphale still wasn’t sure why they were here. Yak turned his head to look at the angel, using the same method of telepathic talk that the angel beforehand did.

That’s the main human. We need to take him out first, and then we’ll be able to take out the rest inside.

Take… him out?

Aziraphale was a little panicked. Surely that didn’t mean what he thought it did. The demon miracled a pistol, before miracling another gun and passing it off to the angel. Aziraphale almost dropped it.

Justice. Heard that these humans are kidnapping smaller humans. Selling em or something. The report wasn’t too clear.

That wasn’t something Aziraphale wanted to hear.

I’ve never killed anything before.

Yak whirled his head back around with a look of both horror and shock in his eyes. Surely he had to be joking. Aziraphale wished he wasn’t there.

Just… don’t shoot the kids. You’ll be fine.

With that, Yak disappeared and reappeared on the porch with the silenced pistol in hand. The human whirled around, the demon smacking his hand over his mouth before pulling the trigger. A spray of liquid exited from the back of their head and they went limp. Aziraphale watched the body topple over the railing before landing with a disgusting thud. He felt ill.

“C’mon. Stay close.” Yak whispered, and he waited as Aziraphale held the gun a little too tightly and edged around the body.

He hated this. He hated it. He wanted to go back home, but Aziraphale did as he was told, staying low and close to Yak who steered them through the house. The majority of it was empty, and Yak sent out a message for the rest of the squad to come in. They filed in, going downstairs as Aziraphale and Yak remained by the back door.

It happened a little too quickly for Aziraphale to react to. Thinking about having to potentially shoot a human dead tended to distract you from a lot of things. He remembered being yanked to the side and pushed away as a bullet struck the doorframe. He remembered the sound of something splashing, and then a gunshot. Then he was back in the present, and Yak was screaming. A human laid dead on the floor a few feet from the two with blood beginning to pool from the back of their head, and the angel looked to the demon and felt incredibly ill. Yak was leaning heavily against the wall, trying to muffle his screams through gritted teeth that came out more like someone trying not to cry whilst remarkably livid. His face… it was something Aziraphale wished he hadn’t seen. The flesh had corroded, parts of his skull and muscles peeking through and one of his eyes was in the process of melting away in the eye socket. Part of his neck was also beginning to melt away and the stench of burnt flesh filled the room. More gunshots downstairs. More screaming. Aziraphale felt his stomach churn and he turned away from Yak, the contents of his stomach decorating a spot on the floor that was not exactly pretty. Heavy footsteps started up the staircase, and Aziraphale looked up just in time to see the lead angel protrude from the basement. They looked from Aziraphale to the dead body, to Yak who was trying not to touch his face yet trying to hide it. They sighed, making their way over and gripping Aziraphale’s shoulder and looking him in the eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Are you with us? Do you know who you are?”

“I… Aziraphale. I’m Aziraphale.”

“Alright. Aziraphale, listen carefully alright? You’re going to return to Limbo with Yak. You’re going to go to Raphael’s district in Sector Three and you’re going to take a breather.”

Aziraphale focused in on their voice, concentrating as hard as he could to take that collection of instructions and remember it.

“Do I… Do I have to come back?”

“I’ll make sure you don’t ever do a mission like this again.”

It sounded more like a promise more than a threat, and Aziraphale decided it was time to go. Yak gripped his arm as he was hoisted up, the two leaning against one another for support as they stumbled out of the house. Aziraphale could still taste the bile on his tongue, and the smell of burnt flesh was heavy in his nose. Yak had apologised for the smell. They walked a couple feet before a gateway opened up for them, several demons already waiting on the other side. Three of them immediately took Yak down a hall, and two gripped Aziraphale’s arms and lead him out into the garden. They mumbled words that he couldn’t make out, eventually being sat down on a bench overlooking a pond. It reminded him of St James’ Park. One of the demons ran off, the other kneeling and catching Aziraphale’s eye.

“Is there anything that you need? Do you want anything?”

“I think… I think I need to go back to my bookshop.” He swallowed. “I need to talk to Crowley.”

“Okay, love. Just stay here for a couple of minutes, I’ll go find your friend.”

He wasn’t sure when the demon had left, and he certainly didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the bench staring at the pond. An angel had eventually come over, setting down a tray of tea and biscuits (as well as a small bottle of wine that Aziraphale immediately drank) before leaving him alone again.

How could things have gone so wrong? How could he have messed up the mission so much? A demon, one who barely knew him mind you, had not only saved him from being discorporated but had taken the hit. A tub of acid may not have been able to kill a demon, but it certainly still hurt as much as it would hurt a human. And the stench-

Aziraphale felt his stomach lurch again, and he covered his mouth and leaned forward. He couldn't go through that again. If this was his job for the rest of time, he wasn’t too sure he could take it. He wanted to go back to the bookstore. He wanted to bask in the comfort of his books, of his hot cocoa, of his demon. Of his Crowley.

“Aziraphale!”

He looked up as his name was called, a rather flustered Crowley breaking into a sprint across the garden. A few angels squawked as he stomped across the bed of daffodils, though they quickly miracled them back. The demon came to a grinding halt, dropping to his knees in front of Aziraphale who looked at him blankly.

“Crowley.”

“Hey, angel. What happened? Are you alright?”

“Crowley, they…”

Crowley recognised the look of distance in Aziraphale’s eyes; this was exactly what he’d end like after the Library of Alexandria was burnt to smithereens. He’d had to go in himself and pull the angel out of the fire. The demon's fingers made their way to the other's cheeks, cradling them as he made Aziraphale look at him.

“Hey, hey.” He softened. “Hey, look at me Aziraphale. Whatever happened, it won’t happen again.”

“I’m not going back.” He confirmed. “I… I failed my mission.”

Aziraphale’s head hung low, Crowley’s thumb brushing over his cheek with a gentle sigh. He knew the other angels and demons had turned away out of respect for their privacy, but he could feel the stare of one. The demon turned his head to glare, only to find Raphael looking just as livid and out of sorts as he felt. Another demon stood by his side, the angel turned and talking to them before he disappeared back into the halls. Crowley turned back to Aziraphale, mumbling and whispering words as the haze in his angel's eyes slowly lifted and he began to reply to simple questions.

“Excuse me?”

Crowley whipped his head at the voice, the demon Raphael had spoken to a few moments ago standing a few feet away.

“Archangel Raphael requested you two return to Earth. You will not be needed for the rest of the day.” They said.

“And what of tomorrow? For the rest of time?” Crowley spat.

“I’m truly sorry for what both of you were put through.” He looked to Aziraphale before looking back to Crowley. “I assure you he will make sure neither of you are assigned to work underneath Archangel Michael or Archangel Azrael during your time in Limbo. Now go home.”

Crowley couldn’t argue with that. His hands slipped from Aziraphale’s face and met his hands, holding them firm enough to let him know they were moving. The angel looked back up, getting to his feet as the demon pulled him a little.

“Let’s go angel.”

The demon watched them move out of the garden, fingers intertwined and bodies leaning against one another for support. They made a nice couple. He felt two other bodies come to both of his sides, one of them picking the tray off the bench and pouring the liquid in the teapot directly into his mouth.

“Harvey owes me a twenty. That was a shit show and a half.”

The red stocky demon spoke up, the teapot heathen tutting as he realised it was empty and put it back on the tray.

“I’ll say. What a piss poor idea; sending em off on a mission like that.” He started for a cigarette but put the packet away when the demon in the middle slapped his hand. “Sorry.”

“Regardless, Raphael sure didn’t look happy.” The taller one said.

“They were originally his responsibility in Heaven, aye?”

“I heard Crowley was the demon that saved those kids during the Great Flood.” The teapot heathen leaned forward to look at them. “You think they’ll be good? The angel looked fucked up.”

“They’ll be fine.”

The larger demon turned, moving back to the gazebo as the two quickly followed. They’d already been assigned another job, and Lord pray for them if they got caught in the crossfire of a very angry Raphael.

Chapter Text

Crowley had been given the rest of the week off. Aziraphale had also been given the rest of the week off. So it wasn’t too surprising when angels and demons looked confused as Crowley stormed down the hall. He wasn’t going to lie; he had gotten lost trying to find Raphael’s office. A Cupid from Chamuel’s Department had to point him in the right direction, and boy if they weren’t terrified out of their mind.

The demon thumped his fist against the door of the office two minutes before he started yelling.

“Raphael! Open up, you bloody pitiful excuse of an angel!”

Crowley only stopped when the door clicked open, and his very angry thoughts disappeared for a moment as Raphael stood in the doorway. His mohawk was completely ruffled and heading sideways, bleary eyed and wearing a blue pyjama set patterned with little stars. A giant stuffed shark was tucked underneath his free arm, his other hand rubbing one of his eyes as he yawned.

“Huh? Wassit?” A golden eye looked up at Crowley. “Hey. What’s up?”

The demon barged into the office, Raphael softly shutting the door behind him and turning to watch the demon pace back and forth on the carpet.

“You have to do something!”

“About what?”

He was still waking up, and Crowley had far too much energy for him to handle.

“We’re not going back. You can’t- I won’t allow- it’s bullshit!”

“It is bullshit.”

“You agree!”

“I do.”

Raphael moved around him, slinking into his office chair and tucking his legs up as he leaned back.

“I told Michael neither of those missions were good for you. But he’s adamant you’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to- What is that supposed to mean?”

“He put you on another mission to collect another kid or something.” He waved his hand as his other hand covered his eyes. “Already sorted it out with Azrael, I transferred you to Ariel."

“What of Aziraphale?”

Raphael cradled his head for a moment, and Crowley was certain he’d fallen back asleep. He thumped his fist against the desk and the angel snorted and jumped.

“Sorry.”

“What of Aziraphale?” He repeated, with more malice.

“Michael is avoiding me at all costs. Gabriel won’t forward my emails, or my texts.”

“So-So what? You’re having a good old snooze?”

“I call it a depression nap.” He laughed, and then sighed and squished the toy shark a little more. “I’m barging into his office to confront him later on. Until then, you have the rest of the week off.”

Crowley stared at him. That’s it? It was all going to be that easy?

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Raphael said. “I’m already in enough trouble as it is and doing what I’m doing now isn’t helping my case.”

The angel stared at the desk for a moment, before he looked to Crowley as he spoke up.

“Why are you helping us?”

“To get you out of my face?”

Crowley managed not to smirk, but the sudden exhale of air through his nose was enough to make Raphael smile before he looked back at the desk. He looked tired.

“I still remember when we were in Heaven, y’know. Both official angels and all that.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t think about it.”

He did. That was the terrible thing.

“Look, I’m doing what I can. I’ll get to Michael before the end of the week, I promise.”

Raphael gestured for him to leave his office, Crowley chewing the inside of his lip for a moment as the angel seemed to slump a touch. He wasn’t likely going to get this chance again.

“Why’d you leave Heaven?”

A pause.

“Not like I had a choice. I was transferred without any notice.”

“No.” Crowley said harshly. “Why did you leave Heaven?”

And suddenly, Raphael looked like a child who’d broken a window with a baseball. Horrified, frightened, nervous. Hell, Crowley might as well have asked him who he’d rather kill off amongst the archangels.

“Bit of a personal question, innit?” Raphael said with a strangled laugh. “It doesn’t matter why I left. What does matter is that I’m down here, getting you and your boyfriend sorted out.”

“Boyfriend? Aziraphale is not-“

“Just hurry up and propose to the poor sod, would you? Even Chamuel is getting sick of you two beating around the bush.”

Crowley scowled, but his face was beginning to burn up.

“Get outta here. Enjoy your week off while you can.”

 Server: Limbo Legends

Channel Name: Chattering

Status: Private

Chamuel entered the chat! Hold my beer.

Chamuel: Oh! This is a new channel! :0

Beauty Guru: We needed to keep the business one clear of our personal chatter, sweetheart.

Chamuel: Is that you Jophiel? How do you change your name on this?

Deaths Boo: Click on the gear on the top left next to the channel name

Chamuel changed their name to Lover Boy.

Lover Boy: That’s better! :) So what are we doing in this secret channel?

Tea Spiller: we got beef

Lover Boy: Are we holding a BBQ? I thought that wasn’t until next week.

Deaths Boo: We have an issue concerning the two new recruits

Lover Boy: The Principality and the demon, right? They seem lovely! Great couple :3

Tea Spiller: yeah, them

Tea Spiller: you hear what happened on their missions?

Lover Boy: Oh dear, I didn’t. It wasn’t too bad was it?

Deaths Boo: Crowley abandoned the mission one minute prior to when it was supposed to occur

Beauty Guru: I heard Aziraphale witnessed one of Michael’s demons attacked with acid. Poor lad, is he doing alright?

Tea Spiller: he’s doing ok. some of the acid was spiked with a low dosage of holy water so it’s a little bad

Lover Boy: I was lead to believe that mission targeted purely humans, not angels!

Tea Spiller: they mighta just been religious folks

Lover Boy: Did you take this up with Michael or Gabriel?

Deaths Boo: That is the issue we face

Lover Boy: ??

Tea Spiller: they’re avoiding my calls, emails, and texts

Lover Boy: >:0

Tea Spiller: mood

Lover Boy: But why are they avoiding you? This is something they need to be aware of!

Beauty Guru: I think they’re avoiding him on the basis of getting Aziraphale and Crowley transferred into his department.

Lover Boy: But that’s ridiculous! He hasn’t had any new transfers for almost four thousand years! >:(

Deaths Boo: You know why

Tea Spiller: idk why they’re still hung up on it, it wasn’t even my fault

Lover Boy: Oh they’re still working on that issue? It’s been so long!

Beauty Guru: Honestly they’re just embarrassing themselves at this point, sweetheart. Not having capable demons and angels transferred into his department is one thing, but completely avoiding Raphael entirely?

Deaths Boo: You think they’re snogging?

Tea Spiller: oh please, they’re both too emotionally constipated and focused on work to figure out emotions

Beauty Guru: Well, I suppose you’re not completely wrong. They’ve never been the best at expressing feelings and so forth

Lover Boy: The potential is certainly there! I’m sure they’ll get it eventually but it is rather sad to watch them dance on eggshells :(

Tea Spiller: did you hear they’re planning to move Crowley to Ariel’s Department?

Beauty Guru: She doesn’t have any demons in her department. It would be a decent learning experience if not for the demon in question

Deaths Boo: I already requested Aziraphale is not transferred to my department

Beauty Guru: I did the exact same with Crowley, I already know he won’t do well here

Tea Spiller: your people already got the hots for him?

Beauty Guru: You know it, hon

Lover Boy: So, are we still having the BBQ next week? Could we do it in one of the parks? :3

Deaths Boo: Does London have barbecues in their parks?

Lover Boy: We could always go cross country. I heard Australia is lovely this time of year!

Tea Spiller: it’s filled with spiders, snakes, and blue bottles

Lover Boy: That’s not a seasonal thing is it? That’s usually year-round?

Tea Spiller: more prominent in Summer

Lover Boy: We should be fine then! It’s winter at the moment

Tea Spiller: …

Tea Spiller: if you say so

Channel Name: Dirty Work

Status: Private

Damas: Boss

Banned from Fire: Boss!

Mike: He’s online, give em a second

Banned from Fire: @goldenangel Get in here!

Damas: Wrong angel, Cinder

Honey Slut: What do y’all want

Honey Slut: Oh, you want @legitarchangel

Tea Spiller: what

Banned from Fire: Boss! :D

Damas: You said to text when things were happening

Banned from Fire: Things are indeed happening :D

Tea Spiller: like what?

Mike: We heard that Aziraphale is going to Jophiel and Crowley is going to Ariel

Honey Slut: Aziraphale and Crowley are in Limbo?

Damas: Yeah they arrived a couple days ago

Honey Slut: Huh! Funky

Honey Slut: So what’s the issue with them?

Tea Spiller: still haven’t gotten any new recruits, tryna score these two

Honey Slut: Oh yeah, Aziraphale was under you while you up here right? Are the other archangels helping out?

Tea Spiller: it’s going to wind up being a game of hot potato with these two

Tea Spiller: i’ll let you all know if I need you to do anything. they can’t mess up their missions worse than they did for the ones set by Michael

Honey Slut: Oh wait, is that what Volgok was yapping about?

Damas: It wasn’t a great success to put it lightly

Banned from Fire: IT WAS A SHIT SHOW OMFG

Mike: Yak had acid thrown on him, angel went into shock. Crowley left before the mission started

Honey Slut: f

Banned from Fire: f

Damas: F

Channel Name: Chattering

Status: Private

Lover Boy: Why didn’t you say something?

Deaths Boo: Who?

Lover Boy: Raphael!

Tea Spiller: hm?

Lover Boy: It’s SUMMER in Australia this time of year!

Tea Spiller: i know

Lover Boy: Were you planning to tell me of this revelation before we were subjected to the horrors of that particular country?

Tea Spiller: :p

Lover Boy: >:0

“That is not our intention and you are well aware of why they are not under your supervision.”

The familiar sound of Michael’s voice stopped Aziraphale in his tracks. He hadn’t spoken to his new supervisor since his… failed mission. It turned out that Crowley was having trouble as well, both of them relishing in the other’s company after they were given the rest of the week off. It was… a lot for a first day on the job.

“No, I don’t know. You never tell me anything! You just send me off to places to guard them. Guard them from what? Demons? Angels?” Raphael spoke up. “And I told you Aziraphale was not going to suit being under your supervision!”

“In due time he will grow used to-“

“No!”

It was a hard sound, one that made Aziraphale’s brain stutter for a moment.

“Principality Aziraphale is not some beefed up warrior for you to send out on field duty! He’s an angel dedicated to humanity and sorting out books! He’s too clever to be some soldier.”

“That is not your decision to make.”

“It is. Because you didn’t listen and the mission was a failure. You made the poor angel almost discorporate because you didn’t listen.”

A chair rolled onto the hard wooden floor and heavy footsteps started quickly and then stopped.

“Aziraphale is not built to kill. Principality Aziraphale is built to defend, to nurture; to heal. And don’t even get me started with the mission you set up for Crowley. Sending him to collect a child on their deathbed? Unbelievable.”

Silence. And then Gabriel spoke up.

“I understand why you want Aziraphale under your supervision; you were his original superior. Why the demon Crowley? You have no history with him.”

Aziraphale looked down the corridor as an angel with messy red hair and an oversized button down thrown over a plain black shirt wandered up. They came to a stop next to Aziraphale, glancing up from their clipboard.

“Crowley was once under my supervision. Before he fell. Obviously.”

“Quite. But he did his job well.”

“He left before the assignment started.” Raphael snapped. “I told you you cannot assign him to that mission. Even Azrael voted against it.”

“Raphael, you need to stop coddling your subordinates.”

And Michael’s voice came through again. Cold and chilling, making Aziraphale’s feathers shudder deep within his core.

“This is why you haven’t received any new angels or demons for several centuries. You grow too attached, and begin to coddle them. They’re hundreds of years old.”

That was true. Aziraphale was old, and looked older than Raphael who had chosen a fairly young form. The archangel was gentle, soft, but had an underlying anger and an urge to fight for anyone and everyone at any given time. Aziraphale didn’t see him as a supervisor, but more of a friend or coworker. He had always been like that. And now it seemed he was getting flak. Just as Heaven gave him.

“Do they not deserve to be treated like their opinions or feelings matter?”

“That’s not the point. You know what happened the last time you lost a worker. You irk your duties, and you have not filled out any paperwork for the last couple of centuries.”

“I don’t have any paperwork because I have nothing to do!” He screeched. “You’re afraid something is going to happen and it’s going to be my fault. Newsflash; nothing I do is right around here! You’ve already barred me from visiting my own people, you stopped transferring them into my department, and now you’re saying that I’m at fault for not doing work that doesn’t exist? What happened wasn’t my fault! You know that, yet you still use me as a scapegoat!”

Raphael took a breath.

“Honestly? Fuck you. The both of you.”

“Raphael-!” Gabriel squawked.

Aziraphale took several steps back as the doors burst open, Raphael almost knocking over the angel before storming down the rest of the hall. The two angels, now outside the doors, peered in to find two very flushed and worried archangels staring back at them. This wasn’t ideal.

“Back to work. The both of you.” Michael ordered, and the red-headed angel scuttled back down the hall. “Aziraphale, as of now you’re under the supervision of Archangel Jophiel. Go.”

 Aziraphale felt a bit like a hot potato. Normally, he’d be more adept at explaining what he felt similar to, but a hot potato seemed to be a perfect explanation. Tossed back and forth from Archangel to Archangel, no one really figuring out where he was supposed to go. Jophiel had been happy to have him in their department, taking over paperwork and handing out missions here and there. The Archangel of Beauty. They wore a red band that day, and therefore identified as female.

Though he had confessed to her, on a rainy day, that he did not feel fit to work underneath her. She had asked why, with a gentle voice and a tone suited for friendly mothers and funny aunts and nannies who were strict but kind. And he had admitted to his underlying self-esteem issues, issues he had not even admitted to Crowley. He spoke until he realised he was rambling, and then he fell quiet in the large office. Though it wasn’t large and empty like Heaven, filled with trinkets and boxes of makeup and a souvenir he decided was from Raphael or Chamuel. The lack of confidence from being demoted, and from centuries of being berated and belittled by those in Heaven, and his habit of - dear he call it so - indulging in human culinary. She did not speak as he confessed and merely leaned on the desk as she thought up an answer.

You are a being of love, and share this love with so many others. Yet you cannot find it within you to love yourself. Jophiel had summarised. Because you do not think of yourself as beautiful?

I… suppose that is correct. Aziraphale admitted.

She tutted and reached over to take his hand.

Sweetheart, you are too harsh on yourself. You were given the creative liberty to design, and change, your vessel at any given time. If you did not enjoy the way this vessel appeared, why continue to live within it?

To be quite frank, Aziraphale had never thought to do so. He rather liked the face, and the hair. And the hands. The angel made sure to get them well-manicured every so often. He supposed the part that he didn’t quite like was what was hidden beneath clothing. The thicker build, which had already been so when he first received the vessel and had packed on a few from the lunch dates and extra desserts. Aziraphale hadn’t noticed it too much beforehand, though the angels in Heaven had never been particularly kind to him. Crowley had attempted to initiate some more… intimate contact but he had quickly put a stop to that. Too fast, he had said. And Crowley had slowed down.

And by slow down, Crowley was now going one mile per hour but if that is what his angel wanted, that is what his angel got.

But Aziraphale could miracle it all away. He could be leaner, more muscular, less… soft. Yet there was something that stopped him. Apart of him didn’t want to let go of that softer exterior. For what reasons, even he was unsure.

I think you hung out with the wrong crowd, dear. You are not the first transfer from Heaven to feel the way you do, and I’m certain you won’t be the last.

Then, how do you suppose I go about this?

I’ll tell you what I told the hundreds of other angels who came into my office after centuries of Heaven’s belittlement of them. They do not matter anymore. There was a sharpness to her eyes, and Aziraphale felt his chest tighten a touch. You are an angel, a being of love, light, and a true treasure. What you choose to look like, what you choose to do, what you choose to be? That is your decision to make. Not to be influenced by what Heaven thinks, and certainly not to be influenced by what those in Limbo think. Lead the life you want to live, not the one they wanted you to.

Then she paused, pet his hand, and leaned back in her chair.

There’s nothing wrong with not being conventionally attractive according to human standards. I certainly don’t adhere to what they believe is attractive. True beauty lies in one's actions, as tacky as that sounds. And you are one of the most beautiful angels Heaven had the nerve to toss.

He felt his cheeks go pink, and the soft smile Jophiel held so often returned to her face. Perhaps it was her own relation to his problems that made him feel a bit better, or because he knew that she was right. Aziraphale did feel a bit silly for being so upset by it, but Jophiel has scolded him for doubting himself. So much so she offered him a cup of tea and a selection of biscuits (the very fancy kind, stored in a red cookie tin that an angel had brought her in the autumn just passed), and offered her ear if the problem cropped up again.

Then she told him she was transferring him to Archangel Chamuel. As much as I love having you in my department, she had started, you cannot grow and learn by being stuck in some old office. He asked if Crowley would be transferred as well, and was told that he had been placed in Archangel Ariel’s department. The Archangel of Nature.

Ariel wasn’t too sure what to make of Crowley. She’d never had a demon under her supervision. Her angels, thankfully, had mingled with the demons from different departments and were more than welcoming. Apparently it wasn’t the way to go, and Crowley was determined to do something to get away from them. Wasn’t right, being welcomed and coddled by a bunch of angels who didn’t know him. They didn’t even bat an eye when he lurked, or hissed, or didn’t blink for five minutes. Though he guessed the sunglasses barred that last one from really spooking them.

I read that you are quite the green thumb, Mr Crowley. Ariel said, standing beside the demon who’d decided the gazebo fifty feet away from the angels was a good place to be.

It’s just Crowley. He had snapped.

Apologies. Anyways, would you like to tend to the gardens?

Don’t you have the angels for that?

Crowley knew the angels were incompetent. He’d seen one of them misting a succulent, and another touch a full cactus with an open hand and spend the next hour getting all the prickles out. They were better at handling animals, he had decided.

I’m sure you’ve seen their ways of tending to flora. It’s certainly not the best.

Isn’t it your job to teach them how to do all that?

You give me too much credit. Four thousand years and they’re still fascinated by the fauna more than the flora. To be completely honest, most of the gardeners are in Raphael’s department. Healing, and all that.

She stared at one angel in particular, who was currently playing with a giant lion.

They think the slugs are helpful to the garden.

Sweet Lo- Sa- Somebody, this was just like when Aziraphale was the gardener.

What, you’re too busy?

Mr Crowley, I do hope you understand that I don’t stay in Limbo for the rest of my days like Raphael. I have my work cut out for me nowadays, what with the actions of the humans on Earth.

Her voice wavered, and Crowley looked away from her. If he did take up this job, it would give him a chance to get some peace and quiet. The angels were constantly badgering him, trying to get him to work with them. Too nice, he’d thought.

Where do you want me to start?

Ariel had beamed at that, and lead him to a particularly terrible part of the garden. Leaves had been ripped apart by pests, whole stems trampled from the animals, and it clearly hadn’t been watered in some time. For the Archangel of Nature, she certainly wasn’t doing a great job tending to the flora in her own garden.

I’ll leave you to it.

Ariel had left Crowley for an hour. Then two hours. Then three. It was only on the fourth hour, when she was helping one of the other angels wash one of the big Samoyed dog, that one asked her where Mr Crowley had gone off to. She immediately packed up and darted off to where she had left him, hearing his muffled yelling as she approached.

Disappointments! The lot of you! He shrieked. Weak and pathetic! You want to end up like your little friends?

Ariel moved past a particularly bushy hedge to find Crowley standing at the edge of the garden. He’d thrown his jacket aside and had found some gardening gloves, hedge clippers, a shovel, and several bags of dirt. There was a pile of plants that weren’t salvageable, and the plants in the garden? A different story entirely. She watched them shake where they were in the dirt, something she was certain didn’t happen often.

GROW! BETTER! He all but screeched, and Ariel was sure the brown areas on the leaves turned a little bit greener and some stems straightened out a bit.

He didn’t turn as she made her way over, careful not to step on the plants torn out of the garden before she paused a few feet in front.

Do you often intimidate plants, Mr Crowley?

She wasn’t too sure if he was shocked she was there or embarrassed she had caught him yelling at plants.

S’not like it matters.

Well, I assure you you have scared them silly. If this is the secret to maintaining plants, human politicians should work in nurseries.

It didn’t elicit a laugh, but she wasn’t looking for one. Instead, she was thinking about the - ah - lack of fitting in he was doing. He didn’t want to be there, that much was evident. But there were only a few places he could go without being too much trouble.

I think I’ll have you transferred after you’re… finished disciplining the flora. I’m sure you can think of more things to say to them and do until the end of the day. She paused. The goats will clean up whatever mess you leave behind. Good afternoon, and goodbye Mr Crowley.

Ariel turned before she had the chance to see the glare Crowley shot her, a smirk on her lips as she disappeared. She’d have to make up a pretty good excuse as to why he was getting transferred. Maybe she’d visit Azrael or Jophiel for help with that.

 Aziraphale stood in front of the door leading to the courtyard. Jophiel had already told him he’d be transferring to Archangel Chamuel, but it still came as a surprise as he was shown the door. This district smelt of baked goods and roses, and he was certain that there was a room dedicated to making crafts with children that he passed by. It was gentle, soft, and the feeling of love was intoxicating. So much so, he’d had to steel himself a few feet into walking through the district.

“You lost, love?”

He jolted out of his thoughts, turning to find a demon staring down at him. They were a good three feet taller than Aziraphale, with a broken horn on one side and jet black eyes with no pupils in sight. They were lanky, and their arms were more similar to the cryptid humans labeled a Wendigo than a human.

“Oh, ah, no. There’s a lot of love in this district. Just… trying to adjust.”

The demon stared for a moment, before slowly nodding. Their mannerisms were slow, high off of the intoxicating feeling that flooded the entire archangel district. Aziraphale wondered why it didn’t flow into the rest of the departments.

“Yeah, it’s a lot. Chamuel has to filter us out occasionally so we don’t get addicted to it. The humans that have passed don’t seem to get affected as much as we do.”

“When you say ‘we’ are you referring to-?”

He didn’t want to assume. But most demons referred to only other demons when speaking. And the angels could talk about anyone.

“Angels. Demons. Newbies especially. Like you.”

The angel was only mildly startled when the tip of his nose with poked in a teasing manner. The demon shambled forward, taking one of the handles and swinging it open. A cool breeze managed to get the overwhelming love out of Aziraphale’s system, and the demon looked down at him.

“Chamuel should be in the courtyard. Somewhere. I think.”

They gestured vaguely, pet Aziraphale on the shoulder, and stumbled off down the hall with a hum. The angel stepped into the courtyard, noting very quickly that everything was very… pink. Flamingos stood out in the pond, and he watched pink cockatoos fly high before swooping back down into a tree, a particularly pink pig trotting after an angel who had a basket of peaches tucked under their arm.

“Mr Aziraphale!”

An awfully cheery voice echoed out from within the courtyard, the deer scattering as an angel in light pink robes practically sprinted towards him.

“Mr Aziraphale! Hello!”

His fight or flight instincts didn’t kick in, and Aziraphale was too puzzled as to what to do that he simply stood there. Though as he was collided with and the wind was knocked out of him, he squawked as he was lifted and swung around by an ecstatic archangel. Thankfully, he was put back onto the ground and the angel gripped his shoulders to steady him.

“It is lovely to officially meet you! I’ve heard oodles about you!” Chamuel beamed.

“I… It is good to, ah, officially meet you as well, Archangel Chamuel.”

“Call me Cha-Cha.”

The Archangel let go of Aziraphale, and the angel suddenly realised where the source of all of the love was coming from within the district. Chamuel was a beacon of it, and he was a lamp attracting thousands of moths with comfort no angel could ever hope to find on the grounds of Heaven. He had no sharp edges, Aziraphale noted, all soft and welcoming but wise in his own sort of way. The Archangel of Relationships; both platonic and romantic, sexual and not. They didn’t have a Chamuel in Heaven. Aziraphale had checked.

“Regardless, I won’t lead you down the wrong path of thinking. I’ll have you transferred to Raphael next week.”

“Pardon, but the previous archangels transferred me the minute they received my paperwork.”

“Oh yeah, I’m giving you a chance to, like, relax and such. Being tossed about most likely isn’t good for you.”

Chamuel turned as the door opened up again.

“Raphael and I managed to pull a few strings, so your missions should be simple and easy for you two to complete!”

“Two?”

Aziraphale was turned, find Crowley sneering at the very pink room he found himself in. With all of the changes and missions they’d been sent out on, the amount of time they’d been spending together was a little less than they would’ve liked.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale softened, and Chamuel shouted from where they were.

“Mr Crowley!”

The demon turned at the voice, lighting up at the sight of Aziraphale and sauntering over in typical Crowley fashion. The angel had once asked why he walked as if he had no hips, and the demon had responded with ‘what are hips?’. Aziraphale decided that that was enough questions for the day.

“Your mission is very simple! I'm having the two of you go out across England to peruse some areas.”

“We playin’ matchmaker?” Crowley asked.

“Goodness no! Those are for Senior Cupid’s only!” Chamuel practically shrieked, and Crowley clicked his jaw to get his hearing back. “I’m having you two peruse potential wedding venues! It’ll be fun!”

 The drive was quiet, bar the quiet tunes of Queens The Great Pretender which Crowley had fought the Bentley for playing for the first couple of minutes before ultimately giving up. Chamuel had essentially sent them out on a road trip to taste test wine, check out beautiful vineyards, and indulge in cheese platters and the occasional sweets platter. Aziraphale was actually doing the job they were assigned; Crowley was just concentrating on driving and not discorporating. He didn’t need to explain he’d died of embarrassment over this stupid mission. It could hardly be called such. He’d been put out on a date with Aziraphale by the Archangel of Relationships, and that somehow made it worse than when he went on dates with the angel on his own terms.

“Oh Crowley! Look!”

The demon jolted as Aziraphale reached over and grasped at his arm, winding the window down as they came to a slow stop. Crowley looked over and stared into a sea of yellow. Brilliant sunflowers that stood much taller than either angel or demon stretched on for miles and miles. A sea of petals that fluttered in the cool breeze but remained where they were. As bright and light as the feeling that settled into Crowley’s chest when Aziraphale smiled at him, laughed at his endearing antics, called him ‘love’, and-

Oh no.

“Oh, they would look lovely as a bouquet.” Aziraphale asked. “A remarkable centerpiece, don’t you think Crowley?”

The angel turned to face the demon, whose face had gone a little slack at his own internal damnation. He felt quite dumb.

“Crowley?”

“Hm? What?”

He answered a little too quickly, causing Aziraphale’s brow to furrow in the way it always did when he was concerned. Then again, he did that when he was concentrating really hard on something as well. Maybe it was just a face Aziraphale made often, now that Crowley thought about it.

“Crowley, are you doing alright?”

“M’doing fine. Onto the next venue, right?”

The angel was quiet for a moment, studying Crowley who had pointedly decided staring out the windshield was a nicer alternative. He could still see his angel, as well as the bright yellow sea of sunflowers beyond them.

“Crowley, if something is the matter-“

“Nothing’s wrong, angel. Let’s just get on with it.”

Aziraphale made a point to huff, rolling the window back up as the car continued down the long road ahead. The angel noted the grip Crowley had on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white whilst his jaw clenched a little too hard.

“Honestly, my dear, you look as if you’re about to discorporate.” He said a little too casually. “We’re looking at wedding venues and drinking wine.”

“M’aware.”

“Then what is the matter?” Aziraphale paused. “Are people from your old department nearby?”

“No! No, not that, just… I- look it doesn’t matter. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“I’m sorry to not take your word for it, dear.”

“This just feels… off.”

A moment of silence. Crowley decided it was Aziraphale trying to sense whatever feeling he was trying to describe. He prayed to Somebody he both did and didn’t understand.

“I suppose six thousand years of attempting to hide what we’re actually doing will do that.”

Ah. He didn’t understand.

“But honestly Crowley, going to wedding venues together isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Fuck, never mind.

Crowley spluttered in his usual fashion, and he narrowly missed the smug look on his angel's face.

“That’s not- I am not- Ngk, that isn’t what this is about!”

“Then enlighten me, love.”

Crowley felt as if his face could rival Hellfire, feeling it turn a bright shade of red.

“Alright, that is what this is about! The Archangel of Relationships sent us off to look at wedding venues! Is that not suspicious?”

He forgot himself for a moment, hissing each word.

“It’s a job, Crowley.”

“What- You can’t say you haven’t heard what they’ve said about us. The-The rumours, the constant chattering!”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, and it prompted Crowley to look over. The angel looked rather frazzled, though that was his way of hiding what he was actually thinking.

“Are you bothered?”

Crowley babbled for a moment.

“Am I what?”

“Are you bothered by their assumptions?”

Oh.

“I- No. No. S’not what I’m… That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Crowley took a breath. He didn’t exactly expect to be thrown into a couples therapy session in the car.

“Six thousand years of hiding. Six thousand years of going through back channels. Now there’s no need to hide, not that we can. No one bats an eye, no one cares what we do, no one is keeping an eye on us.”

Crowley looked through the windshield. Hopefully, he didn’t crash into anything, because he certainly wasn’t watching the road.

“Not used to this whole… accepting business.”

“Quite. It is all rather new to me as well, I suppose.” Aziraphale nodded. “Having them listen without judgment is rather refreshing, I will admit. But, if this truly does bother you, would you like to… slow down?”

Crowley barked out a laugh.

“You think you’re going too fast?”

“Alright, we don’t need to dredge up the past.”

The angel tutted. The demon drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

“You’re not going too fast, angel.” Crowley said. “I don’t think you could.”

“Then that settles that, I suppose.”

A pause.

“I heard the next venue gives visitors free hampers.”

“Oh well now we definitely have to go.” Crowley mocked, and Aziraphale’s muffled giggle warmed his heart for a beat.

“Definitely.”