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nadjabea · 7 months

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An equal give-and-take-relationship with very clear bounderies. I think this is an important premise for the final 15 minutes. I agree with that.

Only that I think that they talk about a body switch and Crowley going to heaven, instead of Aziraphale.

One of the reasons they switch? Because Aziraphale wants to protect Crowley. And Crowley wants to protect Aziraphale.

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship dynamic fascinates me and what fascinates me even more is how people perceive them, partly because I seem to have a much more optimistic view of their dynamic than a lot of what I read suggests they do.

With that in mind I started trying to unpick how I see their dynamic and why and what I ended up with was a series of rambles on various aspects, including confidence, trust, silliness and what they ask of each other. This one is about what they ask of each other and why their relationship isn't some weird one-sided thing where Crowley gives Aziraphale everything he could possibly want or ask for.

I see a lot of posts and things suggesting Crowley always rolls over and does anything Aziraphale asks of him. I don’t know to what extent most people really believe this or if it’s just a fun joke (and I’m not saying that’s bad, I think it’s a fun joke too, I love reading all that stuff and it makes me laugh). The point I wanted to make here though is that I don’t think it’s true and also why I don’t think it’s true.

Everything from here on out is my opinion, but I won’t keep stating that in order to make it more easily readable, just take it as a given. If your opinion is different that’s absolutely fine, I love that we can all see this stuff in different ways depending on our experiences and personalities, it’s why the fandom is so fun. (It’s also why my opinion on so many things in season two ricochets wildly from one theory to another).

So back to Crowley and Aziraphale – I don’t think Aziraphale walks all over Crowley, or certainly not to the extent that people sometimes think he does. Also Crowley doesn’t and wouldn’t allow himself to be walked all over anyway. Why is this even relevant? Because I’ve seen people say that in the final 15 minutes Aziraphale finally asked Crowley to do something that pushed him over the edge and that Aziraphale was shocked when Crowley didn’t roll over and do it because Crowley always does what Aziraphale asks. This isn’t at all true for a start, but also this view tends to include a second assumption, which is that their relationship is one-sided and Aziraphale never does anything for Crowley, that he dismisses him and takes him for granted, which also is not true in a lot of ways. I think it’s a fundamental misinterpretation of their relationship dynamic.

First of all why can Crowley’s actions be interpreted as just rolling over and doing whatever Aziraphale wants? Well, the answer to that is three-fold – firstly Crowley is a genuinely unselfish in many ways, he does things for people because that’s the way he is, it doesn’t make him a pushover, it just makes him nice. Secondly he loves Aziraphale deeply. Whether he knows it or not doesn’t matter, he cares for Aziraphale and wants him to be happy. This isn’t the same as being a complete doormat, it’s simply compromising with the person you are in a relationship with and occasionally prioritising them over yourself. Both these things come together in the third thing, which is that Crowley’s love language is acts of service – he enjoys doing nice things for Aziraphale, he enjoys rescuing him, or going along with him and letting him have his own way, so why not do it? The point is he’s never railroaded into it by Aziraphale, it’s always a deliberate choice. He is literally saying, I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

How does Aziraphale see this behaviour?

Well that’s a tricky one, because in many ways Aziraphale is the more complex character, not least because he changes the most over the course of their history together. Is there a slight element of him taking Crowley for granted in some of their interactions, especially in season two? Possibly, but mostly I don’t think that’s it at all. When someone gives you things because their love language is acts of service you develop a (mostly sub-conscious) confidence in that relationship dynamic and if you also have confidence in yourself (which Aziraphale absolutely does – I’ll write more on this another time) then when you want something you ask for things. You ask not because you learn to expect, but because you think you’re worthy of asking and you think that your relationship is strong enough to stand up to the ask. I ask my husband for things all the time, sometimes they’re things I know he’ll give me – these are easy asks (I don’t just mean physical objects, I also mean acts of service such as helping me with something), sometimes though I’ll ask for things knowing he probably won’t give me that thing or without having a clue what his answer will be – these are harder asks, the sort you don’t do early on in relationships because they might break it either in one go or over time. Sometimes a hard ask results in me getting what I want, sometimes it results in a bit of back and forth before I get what I want, sometimes I get a no and I’m temporarily annoyed or upset, sometimes I get a no and I accept it because I knew it was the most likely outcome.

The point is that I ask, and so does Aziraphale. You ask because you have confidence that you are worthy of the ask and also that your relationship is strong enough to bear the request, even if the answer is no. Can a no still be annoying or upsetting? Yes absolutely. Can a no still be wrong on the part of the other person? Also yes. The point is that sometimes the no isn’t wrong and it doesn’t necessarily break the relationship. By the time season two comes along Aziraphale is confident enough in his relationship with Crowley to feel it can bear the weight of him asking.

So what happens when he asks? Does Crowley roll over?

Well no, he doesn’t. One big example of this is right at the beginning of the series, in episode one. Here Aziraphale makes a massive ask of Crowley and he knows it’s a big ask. Even before he tells Crowley what the problem is he’s aware of the possibility of a no. “Is it something I can help you with?” Crowley sayss, and Aziraphale merely shrugs. It’s not because Nina is there, she’s gone by that point. It’s also not because he doesn’t have faith in Crowley’s ability to help him, he always has faith in Crowley’s abilities (this is a whole other thing on trust). What he’s doubting is whether Crowley will help him. It’s why they’re meeting in the café, not the bookshop. He wants to break this one to Crowley a bit at a time – there’s a problem and I need help. I want your help, it’s why I called you, but you aren’t going to like it and I’m not even sure whether you will help so I’m establishing that I need help first, rather than showing you Gabriel immediately, so that you aren’t completely surprised when I present the whole problem to you.

Once they go to the bookshop and Crowley is confronted with Gabriel he offers the help he feels able to give by saying that he’ll drive Gabriel somewhere and dump him. He’s stating his willingness to help (which is important later), but for now he’ll only help in one specific way. What he isn’t willing to do is any more than that, not even for Aziraphale.

Help me take care of Gabriel. Help me sort this mess out, Aziraphale says, and what does Crowley say? No. Absolutely not. You’re on your own with this one. Even after Aziraphale practically begs him for help, complete with puppy dog eyes and the magic word, “I’d love you to help me,” Crowley still says no. That is not the reply of someone who lets themselves be walked all over or who rolls over every time the angel they’re in love with flutters their eyelashes.

Okay so what about the fact that he returns? Well, the stakes have been raised: for a start Aziraphale is now directly in danger, which alters the balance in favour of helping him, and remember he was already willing to help, he said as much, but he was previously only willing to help in one way. Now that’s changed. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do for someone you love when the stakes are raised is a perfectly normal rection in a relationship and does not indicate an unhealthy dynamic. Crowley has now realised that getting rid of Gabriel is no longer an option - his preferred plan (dumping Gabriel somewhere) will no longer work, so the only choice is now Aziraphale’s plan of keeping him in the bookshop and taking care of him.

This is why he returns.

A quick note on the call

Just backtracking a bit here – when Aziraphale calls Crowley to ask him for help Crowley agrees to be over in two minutes. It’s instant, no questions asked and at first glance looks like Aziraphale calls and Crowley comes running just because. But nope. Later we are very clearly told that Crowley knows something is wrong the moment he picks up the phone and Aziraphale starts speaking, “This was your ‘Something’s Wrong’ voice.” Crowley already knows there’s a problem and what do you do when your closest friend calls you and tells you about a problem? You try to help. Whether that’s advice, comfort, physically going around to help out or whatever the situation calls for. Of course Crowley says he’ll be there in two minutes, he doesn’t exactly have anything else on and his friend has just indirectly told him something is wrong. He’d be a pretty shitty person/entity if he didn’t agree to drop round and try to help.

So what about the apology dance?

This whole interaction, that many people say indicates how under the thumb he is actually shows us the exact opposite. What’s the first thing Crowley says when Aziraphale asks him to do the dance? “I don’t do the dance.” This tells us a hell of a lot about their relationship dynamic up to this point – for a start Aziraphale has clearly done the dance before, at Crowley’s request, and he lists off the occasions. The dance is silly and slightly demeaning and Aziraphale has done it several times for Crowley, whilst Crowley has never done it, yet somehow we read this whole scene as Crowley being the whipped one? Um. No. Also heavily implied in Crowley’s, “I don’t do the dance” statement is, You’ve asked me to do this before, I’ve always said no because I don’t want to. You’ve always accepted my no before and I want (expect!) you to accept it this time.

But this time Aziraphale doesn’t accept the no. Just like Crowley wouldn’t go along with his plan earlier, Aziraphale now won’t go along with Crowley’s no. Clearly he has done so in the past, but this time their dynamics are different. They’ve been much more open about their friendship for the past four years, they’ve both accepted that they are at least close friends, if not more. They’ve saved the world together and saved each other. They both acknowledge they “carved (this existence) out for ourselves” and that brings strength to their relationship. Now that Aziraphale has more confidence in what they are to each other, he takes that confidence and tests the limits of what Crowley will do for him, to push them more towards equality. Why should he always be the one to do the dance? Crowley responds by acquiescing not because he would just roll over and do anything for Aziraphale but because he recognises three things. Firstly that Aziraphale is pushing and that this is new and that this means something to him in the context of their relationship, secondly because he reluctantly accepts Aziraphale’s point that it isn’t really fair that he never does it, and finally because the request for him to do the dance isn’t about him refusing to help (Aziraphale was never certain he would), it’s about the fact that he’s broken Aziraphale’s trust by refusing to help (which is a slightly and very subtly different thing). To illustrate this, right before Crowley does the dance, just after he says “fine,” he gets this very brief, soft look on his face – this is him acknowledging to himself that Aziraphale deserves this dance, that he loves the angel and that he’s doing this because of both those things – he could have continued to insist on a no, he clearly has before, but this time he chooses not to.

I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

All right, what about the car thing?

What about it? Lending your car to the person you love is very normal. Ok so the car means more to Crowley than a normal car does to us, but the point still stands. Aziraphale is making a reasonable request here. Does he expect a yes? Absolutely, because he also knows it’s a reasonable request given where their relationship is. Does he flirt to get his own way? Hell, yes. Does Crowley know exactly what Aziraphale is playing at? Also a hell yes. And Crowley totally plays up to it, he’s not as opposed to it as he claims. He’s playing up his “no” and his grumpiness for effect, to encourage Aziraphale’s silly flirtiness. Look at the difference between this no and the no he gave Aziraphale earlier. There’s no anger here, there’s no real sense that he thinks Aziraphale is asking too much, he’s playing a role in their relationship and they’ve both played this game before. Look at that little slap of the hand, which Aziraphale responds to equally playfully. The game even continues after Muriel turns up at the shop, when it’s already quite clear that Crowley is going to let Aziraphale use the car (he’s already taking the plants out). Even in the back-room Crowley still teasingly grumbles about trains whilst Aziraphale smiles flirtily, and Crowley playfully withholds the car keys when Muriel interrupts them. They both know Aziraphale is going to end up with them, there’s no point to him not directly handing them over in spite of the interruption, it’s just an excuse to tease Aziraphale back. I mean, look at him – he spends the rest of the conversation wiggling his hips, grinning smugly and confidently handling the Muriel problem by talking about love. Aziraphale’s very overt reaction tells you all you need to know about the dynamic of this one.

Two can play at this flirting game, angel.

But he follows him around like a little puppy!

Well, yes and no. Sure he follows him around whilst he goes around asking all the shopkeepers to the meeting, but he does that because it’s fun for him. He’s curious, Aziraphale is acting oddly, doing something he’s never done before and Crowley wants to know what it is. He’s always found him fascinating – what silly and ridiculous thing is the angel up to now?

Also wanting to hang out with the person you are in love with isn’t at all strange or a sign you are in some sort of weird relationship where only one of you calls the shots. It’s normal. Crowley knows Aziraphale has a tendency to be silly or do unexpected things and he wants to watch him do them and also flirt with him whilst he’s doing them. Looking grumpy and reacting to Aziraphale’s silliness with disbelief is how Crowley flirts-without-flirting. Both of them know, understand and like that dynamic, and he has that role not because he’s unhealthy levels enthralled with everything Aziraphale does but because of the levels of trust they have spent millennia establishing.

What Crowley doesn’t do is wait around for Aziraphale. Look at the scene where Aziraphale daydreams about Job. In that scene he’s aware Aziraphale has something else to show him (the record clue), but he doesn’t stick around whilst Aziraphale ignores him. He could have sat down somewhere in the shop and waited – he’s got an eternity, waiting an hour or so is no big deal, but waiting around like that would suggest he really is a doormat, just waiting for the next time Aziraphale shows him any attention. He doesn’t do that, instead he goes off and does… well, something. There’s a lot of speculation over what it is, but whether he goes off to read Pride and Prejudice or just wanders off to find something more interesting to look at than the back of Aziraphale’s head, he’s clearly saying here that he has a life outside of whatever Aziraphale wants to do.

Also side note - you know what else he doesn’t do for Aziraphale? Adjust his driving style. Aziraphale clearly hates it, it makes him nervous and he even asks Crowley to change several times whilst they’re in the car together, but Crowley never does. This is how I am angel, accept it or don’t, but this is the line and I’m not changing this for you. Related to this is his refusal to accept Aziraphale altering the Bentley. Aziraphale tries to persuade him, “But it’s pretty,” and Crowley really isn’t having it. It’s another hard line and he’s not going to let Aziraphale cross it.

Anything else?

There’s a few other examples that I’ve seen listed in the, “Crowley does whatever Aziraphale says/wants” evidence piles. Things like Aziraphale assuming he’s going to get the drinks in the pub. Well, someone has to get them, and it makes perfect sense that they both assume it’s Crowley here because he’s the one more comfortable with pubs. Having a role that you take on within certain situations in a relationship is healthy and normal, imagine how exhausting it would be to debate who is going to do every little thing all of the time.

In the first series the coat cleaning is another example often cited, but this is something Crowley is perfectly happy to do. Aziraphale is flirting, which is delightful, and he’s not being asked to do anything difficult or dangerous. I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you, which is totally different from, you always ask, I always give, and you always take.

What about Aziraphale. When does he give?

All the damn time. We just don’t notice it as much because Crowley asks different things of him. His love language is acts of service towards others, but he doesn’t really ask or require them in return. Sometimes he gets them from Aziraphale anyway (Holy water anyone?) Also notably in the Globe Theatre when he’s clearly the one pushing the Arrangement, and Aziraphale more or less agrees to do his work for him (“That doesn’t sound like hard work”) even before he’s asked, before they’ve gone through their little dance of Crowley pushing and Aziraphale supposedly-reluctantly agreeing.

The other things Aziraphale gives Crowley are much more nuanced, and much less measurable to us as the audience, but he gives them constantly, or more or less constantly, throughout their relationship. He gives him acceptance (although he occasionally partially withdraws it, such as in the bandstand scene), his silliness (which is more important than it first appears), a safe space (not just the bookshop, but also a safe space for Crowley to air his real views without fear of consequence, which is important irrespective of whether or not he persuades Aziraphale to agree with him), his physicality (by 1826 he’s really in Crowley’s space so much of the time) and most importantly he gives Crowley himself. Crowley constantly pushes Aziraphale to grow as a person, it’s one of the original reasons he entertains developing a friendship with him. What he asks of Aziraphale is for Aziraphale to think – really think – about what he believes. And Aziraphale does so, but only for Crowley. Humans have constantly questioned religious beliefs throughout history, they’ve written books, made speeches and even had wars over religious doctrine and the problems, inconsistencies and absurdities within it. Crowley is saying nothing to Aziraphale that he won’t already have indirectly heard from humans and dismissed or ignored. But when Crowley says it, he thinks and he changes. That’s what Crowley asks of Aziraphale and it’s what Aziraphale gives him.

What was the point of all this waffle?

Well, honestly there isn’t much of one. Only that their relationship is much more balanced than some suggest and I think I just wanted to spell that out. It also has an implication for the final 15 minutes. There’s no way Aziraphale goes into that with some sort of fake confidence that he can persuade Crowley to follow him to heaven simply because Crowley always follows him – Crowley doesn’t, he has very clear limits that he enforces with Aziraphale and Aziraphale knows this. He might feel confident for other reasons (such as thinking Crowley will be happy to be an angel again) or something else entirely different might be happening (so many theories!) but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing to do with thinking Crowley always does what he asks, because he very clearly doesn’t.

It's also why Crowley waits around afterwards to watch Aziraphale leave. It’s a way indirectly of saying one final time, I love you and I enjoy making you happy… but this is something I cannot give to you.

#good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #aziraphale #crowley #body switch #body possession

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nadjabea · 7 months

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This meta explains the 1941 church scene so brilliantly. It never was about Aziraphale realising he loves Crowley. He knew it all along. It was about Crowley confession his love to Aziraphale - and in the second part Aziraphale confession his love to Crowley.

It is just as Crowley states in his speech in the last 15 minutes: They are together for 6000 years.

@doctorscienceknowsfandom More meta on how Aziraphale and Crowley are a couple for almost ever.

Ah, I remembered!

My question was: what are your thoughts on Crowley saying ‘I lost my best friend’ when he’s directly talking to Aziraphale’s non-corporate ghost in season 1? I always thought that line was strange. Is it that he can’t say ‘I lost you directly’ because others might be listening?

Hi @procrastiel ooh, nice! I *love* this scene so I'm super happy to share an opinion on it. Thank you. :)

Meta on the meanings behind what they call each other, what they intentionally *don't* call each other, how they actually said they loved each other and came up with a shorthand for it in 1941, and why they still don't just use those damn words already...

This goes everywhere, just FYI lol. I think I started with "no nightingales" and took a scenic route through 1600, 1941 and bits of S2 before coming back to the scene you asked about but I've been told it makes sense. Thanks for indulging me. :)

There are certain things that Crowley & Aziraphale feel that they can't call one another and can't say to one another directly. It's not just because they could be overheard if they're in public, though that's always a concern. They don't say them when they're alone, either.

It's because it hurts too much.

They've always tried to be optimistic about surviving Armageddon and being able to be together somehow but they're terrified that they won't and the odds, in their minds, aren't great, being that it's the whole will of God and all. As a result, they've lived their whole relationship expecting it to end in tragedy. They could both live for all of time, forced apart by Heaven and Hell. One of them could die and leave the other alone for eternity with nothing but the memory of the other. Meanwhile, in the now? It's not a great situation, either.

They can't really be together. They are together but not openly and they can't promise each other everything and they absolutely would if they could. Heaven and Hell could literally murder them if they got caught together so they have to be careful and keep it a secret. This means that even as the human world they live in opens up and starts to change to a point that queer humans like them are living more open lives with one another, Crowley and Aziraphale still cannot at this stage in the story.

So, it all becomes then an unspoken question of: what would make this easier? (As if it could ever really be made easier?) They don't wish to cause each other any additional pain. What would make it easier, they think, is if they don't say certain things so that what they can't have now or what might be lost to them in the future is and will be easier to bear.

This is delusional but they're doing it anyway because it gives them some measure of control over things they can't totally control.

They think it is easier to deal with not being able to be together if they just never say directly aloud what they are in terms that are surface-level undeniable. They speak in a coded language with one another and they say all the things in those words. But the doublespeak gives them some cover. Not to ever deny any of it but it softens the edges of it.

It's also because they live with the fact that they can't fully be together but they also both are fundamentally optimists and want to think that maybe, someday, they could find a way to have what they want to have with one another. That's also why they don't say the things fully. A part of them thinks that if they just don't right now and they wait until some time comes when it seems like they could have a life together, then they still get to have those moments. They're almost saving some of it for a life they hope they get to have but aren't sure if they will.

As a result, they are romantic as all fuck towards one another but they don't use words like romance or love aloud. If they do find they have to talk about it, they've shorthanded it in a way that they both understand because it's based on their past together. We already can see bits of it uncoded-- nightingales, dining at the Ritz-- but there are more than that that we can see if we deep dive a bit here so let's do that...

What's evident in the scene in 2.06 wherein Crowley decides to try to abandon the doublespeak is how deeply ingrained this way of speaking is for both of them. Also, how they don't abandon it when they're alone (the 1967 scene also illustrates this.) Crowley actually reverts back to their doublespeak *three sentences* into his proposal. He doesn't get much further than establishing that they've both been on this planet for a long time before he starts evoking coded messaging. He flicks his hands between them during the "you and me" line in a way that is echoing how Aziraphale gestured at him to mean "couple" in 1941. He winds up using coded language all over the place, peaking with the "no nightingales" moment that is actually coded language twice over because of "nightingales" being their word for romance and the asking Aziraphale to listen for birds evoking the Job minisode and the moment in the courtyard when they came up with the doublespeak.

Part of why Crowley can't get through the proposal without it is because he doesn't want to do it like this. Both the doublespeak and the idea of someday loosening it a bit mean things to them. They like their private language. Maggie and Nina are not exactly correct in assuming that they never say how they really feel. They're not wrong, either, but they're not fully right. Crowley and Aziraphale do talk. They just do it in a way that hurts them less because they can't bear to hurt each other because they're batshit crazy in love with each other. Maggie and Nina are correct in saying that Crowley and Aziraphale don't say how they truly feel if saying how you truly feel means using traditional language but they are wrong to say that they don't express these feelings at all because we have literally been watching them do so this entire time.

Notice how Crowley, even risking more with breaking their code in 2.06, still doesn't say some things. Amazing how he said all of that and he didn't say I love you, isn't it? He could have. He is, in what else he's saying, but the words they don't say are still there on the table. Aziraphale, later in the scene, almost does. He almost does because he is a mess over the situation and he wants to give Crowley something but then he doesn't and he spits out a self-aware I forgive you instead. That horrid, complicated version of it that he's used before and is code they both kind of hate. He's angry that this is all happening the way it's happening because it's taking some of the things they leave unsaid for hopeful, better days and it's saying them in a less than ideal moment.

That they both leave out that I love you, though, is the most I love you thing they could have possibly done.

They think it will be easier to not be free to be together and unafraid in the present-- and to maybe lose one another in the future, if they eventually have to-- if they pretend they're not a team or a group of the two of them and one way to do that is to never say words like the one we were all silently screaming at Crowley to say in that scene in 2.06 lol: "couple."

Are they a couple? Yes. Are they lovers? Yes. Are they partners, the term Nina used? Yes. Do they refer to their relationship using any of the terms in this paragraph? Oh God no...

That is why Crowley freaks out when Nina tries to get him to use uncoded, normal, human person language to help her understand what Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship is. She calls them partners and this is Crowley:

We're in agreement with Nina then when she responds with:

Nina isn't wrong here. She's just from a different world than Crowley. Nina lives in a world like ours in the year 2023 and she's puzzling Crowley and Aziraphale out through that filter. She doesn't know at this point that they are an angel and a demon who could be murdered by Heaven/Hell for being together. Her best rationale for why she's never seen Crowley and Aziraphale in her cafe together and didn't know until this week that the bookseller has a fella is her theory that Crowley is married and that he and Aziraphale are having an affair. To her, it explains why they've got chemistry for days but they're secretive. Crowley denies that-- defending Aziraphale's honor like the good old fashioned lover boy he is :)-- but the reason why he quickly denied that he and Aziraphale are partners, even if they absolutely are, is twofold. They are used to hiding it, it's dangerous for them to get caught out, and he probably feels uncomfortable with the idea of telling someone what they are exactly without talking with Aziraphale about it first-- that's all one reason.

The other reason is that he and Aziraphale don't use that word. It's not that it's an inaccurate one; it's probably the most accurate one, actually. They have a word, as we'll see, but partners isn't it because partners is the same thing as a couple and these are embargoed words to them. They don't use those phrases, even if that's what this is, just as they don't say I love you because if they don't call it love directly, they'll never lose that love, in their minds. If they don't know what it's like to hear the other say it, they don't ever have to bear the pain of never hearing it again. Better to hold those words back and only use them if they ever can somehow really be fully, openly together without fear. If Crowley doesn't use those words with Aziraphale, then he's not about to use them with the Coffee Shop Human he's only just recently met.

Along these same lines, they refrain from traditionally romantic terms of endearment on the surface. No my love, no darling, no sweetheart. Angel was there at the start and it stays because while it's always really angel (romantic), it's also angel (species/occupational), so it works well enough with their code. But its equivalent in reverse is Crowley. It's intimate, in the sense that only Crowley and Aziraphale know what it means. Only they were there in Job's courtyard. That's the coded layer of it-- it's Crowley's name to everyone else on the surface but it's that and a pet name to Aziraphale. It's why Aziraphale just calls him that constantly. Crowley changed his name to something only Aziraphale also really understands, making the use of it by Aziraphale then a way of expressing affection. When Nina asks them both separately about their relationship, both Crowley and Aziraphale actually revert to using what they call one another in an effort to explain it, even though they know that it doesn't translate fully in human terms without more words. Crowley says Aziraphale is an angel he knows; Aziraphale says:

Ironically? They are actually making it all *more* intimate by speaking in their own, private, coded language. They can't give each other everything but this they can, right? The language is their own, little world and not being able to explain their relationship to humans that well in 2023 doesn't mean they don't know what they mean to one another, which is more important. Since they can't make each other promises of forever that they can't keep and they can't have a life in the present that they'd choose for themselves, something they can do is use their little language to be sweet towards one another and they do. By having to work a little harder at conveying meaning through doublespeak, they wind up with something ironically actually at least as romantic as the traditional words, if not more so.

Anyone can call a lover darling and it can be lovely but can just anyone make my dear fellow romantic? Aziraphale can. This one was all him. He loved standing there in front of a dozen deadly human soldiers in the Kingdom of Wessex in 597 A.D., getting away with a pet name under the guise of stealing the "old sport"-style of male, moneyed, British speak and turning it romantic. This scene is great with the pet names because it opens with Aziraphale being a bit of a tease with "is that you under there, Crawley?" which he only does so that Crowley will roll his eyes and correct him. Aziraphale loves that Crowley changed his name to something coded between them based off of the moment they started their doublespeak. It was very romantic and this scene shows that Aziraphale sometimes, in earlier days, would call Crowley the old name just to get Crowley to correct him, which is all just a coded way of getting Crowley to say that, yes, he still feels the same way and yes, he still wants Aziraphale to call him that. This same scene, a few sentences later, then has Aziraphale's my DEAR fellow-- heavy emphasis on the 'dear'-- which is then answering Crowley's admission by just skipping any and all of Crowley's names entirely lol and calling The Black Knight my dear in front of a bunch of bloodthirsty soldiers and mercenaries.

The my [] fellow is perfect in their little language because of how it sounds all "I say, old chap!" on the surface but contains words that are romantic to them in their doublespeak. It's intentional that it's *not* "old chap" or "old sport" that they appropriated for their own purposes, it's my [] fellow. Fellow as in human, which is how they see their relationship (because it is) and that's something that comes up when Crowley uses a variant of this in 1941, which we'll get to in a second. My adds an intimate element to it of admitting that they are each other's in whatever ways they can be.

Aziraphale, like we said a moment ago, will sometimes sauce Crowley with the pet names a little and he does in S1 when he calls Anathema my dear when reassuring her in a scene in which he and Crowley are having a playful coded argument over Crowley's driving. Aziraphale miracles a bike rack onto the back of The Bentley and unnecessarily codes the word "bicycle" ("a perfectly normal velocipede"), smirking when Crowley grumbles "bicycle" at him. It's joking with him a bit at the lunacy of their little language *in* their little language. (Crowley playing back during this sequence is also calling Aziraphale angel (romantic) in front of Anathema, which was also a strategic decision to signal to her that he might look like a murder hornet but he's really just long-suffering gone on the sunshine-y one. Very we're just an old gay married couple, hen. We won't hurt you. in tone.) Anyway, Aziraphale using my dear with Anathema-- and his little smirks towards Crowley around it-- was really just underlining the way he uses my DEAR fellow with Crowley by using the same core phrase with a human in normal, uncoded, human conversation.

Other than this and the big one we're going to get to, there are really only two other things we've seen them use to refer to one another. In S1's Eleven Years Ago/2008, there's the moment when Crowley and Aziraphale have arrived back at the bookshop and Aziraphale is flirting with Crowley and says this, tongue firmly in cheek:

I mentioned this in another post about the wall slam in Tadfield but this is a very much intentionally blasphemous specific sexual request that is more at home in the sex meta post you all have me working on lol but for the purposes of this conversation, "foul fiend" is Bible for "wicked demon", so this is Aziraphale just kind of flirtily, jokingly calling Crowley a wicked demon in the one area in life where Crowley would probably happily own that description lol. It also has the other layer of humor in it in that Crowley calls Aziraphale angel (romantic) all the time, more often than he uses Aziraphale's actual name, and you'd think he wouldn't want to because Heaven hasn't exactly done right by Crowley and he's not especially fond of it. By calling Aziraphale angel with love behind the meaning of it, he's calling Aziraphale a good angel. He's saying that Aziraphale is what an angel is *supposed*to be, something that Aziraphale struggles with. It's both sweet and reassuring at the same time. As a result, Aziraphale has never just started calling Crowley "demon" for the same reasons-- he thinks if being a demon is being demonic and truly evil, then Crowley is a terrible demon because he's a lovely person. He is, however, positively wicked in bed, and Aziraphale likes to mock their whole situation with blasphemous Bible innuendo when requesting a little hellfire.

The other thing to briefly mention before we get into the friend discussion is a scene not long after the one we just talked about, when they're both smashed in the bookshop in S1. When he's drunk and attempting to say "bouillabaisse", Crowley gets distracted staring at Aziraphale for a moment and calls him baby before going back to his attempts at saying a word (in French, their romance language, per S2) and we get the "fish stew-- anyway!" segue back into the rest of the scene. Aziraphale was too drunk to notice enough to react so this opens up the question of whether or not the rules can get slightly more lax in bed. Does Crowley call Aziraphale baby in more intimate moments or does he just want to and it slipped out when he was drunk? It's a fairly normal phrase so it both would and would not be a surprise either way but it's still something of a question mark by the end of S2.

But there's one thing that they use that pertains to your question from the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene (told you we'd start to get here eventually lol) and that's how they use the word friend.

The rules of their language apply-- what is said on the surface is what one of the meanings of what they are saying is. It has to be what it sounds like on the surface to also be a coded thing. Aziraphale is Aziraphale's name and angel is what he is and Crowley is the name Crowley chose for himself. That angel and Crowley have hidden meanings-- that angel is given a tone that turns it from referring to Aziraphale by his species and more into angel (romantic); that Crowley is the name everyone calls Crowley now-- from angels to demons to humans alike-- but only Aziraphale knows that it's an in-joke referencing Crowley having to playact at being demonic and evil to hide his truer, sweeter nature... this is what makes these terms acceptable in their mutual language. My [] fellow is then also meeting the rules of the language because of the humor of taking a non-romantic phrase and using it for this romance of theirs that they don't refer to as one. It sounds like a perfect common thing for British men of any kind of relationship to use in conversation on the surface but it's romantic to them underneath.

So when they say friend, by their own rules of this language, it has to first contain the surface meaning. It has to be true on that level to reoccur in their language. So 'friend' does mean 'friend' in a friendship sense. They are friends. They are good friends-- best friends. Using the word is an admittance that they are each other's closest friends, which is both lovely in its own right and healthy in a romantic relationship. You want to be friends with your romantic partner. It doesn't mean you can't have other friends, of course, but if you're not friends with your partner, it's not really going to be a terribly satisfying relationship and since that is what they are-- the longest-running of long-term relationships lol-- that they are friends is important and a good thing. It's also a big deal for them to admit to it, since they are actually *supposed* to be mortal enemies. Their whole enemies-to-lovers thing never really got off the ground because they adored each other on sight but that they're friends despite the danger and the conflicts is a big thing in its own right.

But that's not the *only* meaning of friend to them, so let's look at how they evolved that bit of their language.

From what we've seen so far, it started in 1600 in The Globe Theatre scene with this:

In 1600, Burbage drops some human, queer coding into the secret language. Friend, the way Burbage is using it, is something that's actually implying lover. The surface word is technically related to friendship but the tone changes the meaning of friendship in this context to be that of a sexual relationship. Burbage's tone implies that he thinks Crowley and Aziraphale are fucking (which Crowley, laughing, silently agrees with is obvious, since he's been ignoring Burbage in favor of buzzing around Aziraphale and clearly trying to flirt his way into his bed).

Burbage is pissed that these two-- who, as we know, are basically the entire audience-- have been ignoring his monologue in favor of flirting with each other so when Aziraphale tries at a modicum of politeness (that somehow is even bitchier subtly than Burbage lol-- "I love all the... talking" is the best he can come up with), Burbage slings back by trying to drag Crowley into it by calling him Aziraphale's friend, with that loaded tone that makes the question really: 'and what does your lover think?'

Aziraphale gets the innuendo-- he's not exactly a novice at this in 1600-- but his immediate response is just to panic at the idea of anyone noticing him and Crowley together and, as Aziraphale does when stressed, he lies in increasingly absurd levels of untruth. (See also: the scene with Shax in The Bentley in S2, when he spirals up into ludicrously claiming to *not even know who Gabriel is* in an effort to say that he has nothing to do with his disappearance.)

Crowley is bemused by Aziraphale's increasingly desperate attempts to deny what is abundantly obvious to everyone around them and by Burbage's attempt to make a thing out of them to try to assuage his bruised ego. He chooses a little violence with this particularly amusing bit of go fuck yourself, you insecure little twerp:

Anyway lol what this scene then does is give us a moment in the story wherein we see them in a situation where friend (loaded) is defined as friend used euphemistically for lover and they both know it. This isn't coding they came up with but that they will wind up appropriating from the humans around them and repurposing for themselves, though they won't for awhile still to come yet.

What's worth noting here is that friend (loaded) in this human code is euphemistic for a pretty wide array of loaded friend relationships. There's no separation in it for friends with benefits versus someone you're seeing but aren't comfortable admitting that versus someone you've been with for awhile versus the person that is basically your secret spouse, etc.. All of these things are friend (loaded) in human code because the main purpose of it is to identify a pair of people who are involved as such without directly saying so on the surface, even if it's implied heavily via tone.

So what happens when Crowley and Aziraphale eventually decide to repurpose it for themselves?

They've got to be clear on what it means. They'll need to define it more specifically amongst themselves in order to use it.

For awhile still after 1600, they just aren't defining their relationship. They don't need friend (loaded) because they have things they call each other, right? They've got angel and Crowley and my dear fellow and the like. They're not usually around a lot of other humans together that are going to do what Burbage did and try to force a definition of it. (This changes, as we know, in the modern era-- especially S2-- but back in the day, it was true for them.) As a result, they've never had to define this and that's absolutely fucking perfect, as far as they're concerned.

Not defining this? Lovely. Yes. More of that. Makes the fact that they can't just call each other my love hurt a lot less, they're convinced. It helps now for sure and it'll make it less painful if they lose each other. They totally will not at all continue to spend thousands of years wondering what it would sound like if they said the things. They don't each have fourteen million fantasies about being able to use the traditional words and how they'd do it-- absolutely not lol. *Not* using the traditional words isn't at all making both the allure of those words-- and the ones they *do* use-- hotter and more romantic or anything. Not in the slightest...

So then we eventually get the Holy Water Arc, right, and in the middle of that scene, we see them run into a definition problem. In 1862, what actually causes them to fight isn't the holy water request. It's Aziraphale giving it all a word and that word being "fraternizing." First rule of We Don't Say It Club is that we don't say it... but it's also that if you're going to say a word that means the two of you and what you have, maybe don't use the one that Heaven would-- the one that means 'socializing with the enemy.' In Aziraphale's defense, they're both a mess and half-broken up in this scene and there's more going on it than we're going to get into here but the point is that suddenly not having a word caused big drama and caused the whole holy water conversation to de-evolve into an argument that broke them up for the eleven or so minutes that they can stay broken up.

But they still hadn't really resolved the whole holy water argument debacle by 1941, even if there is evidence in the show that they saw one another between 1862 and 1941, and the reason why they haven't is because holy water is irretrievably linked to defining what they are.

Crowley asking for it meant they had to consider what they are to one another and talk about it and 1862 proved their language didn't have words for that at the time. There is a level of panic to it because the request contains a certain level of acknowledgement about how they feel about each other. Aziraphale jumps onto holy water being a suicide pill not just because he's terribly worried that that's why a visibly anxious and depressed Crowley wants it but because if it's not what Crowley wants it for, then Crowley is saying he wants it for defense and whose defense, right? Not just his own, potentially. It's very much saying that he wants it to protect not just himself but Aziraphale from Hell and now we're talking about Crowley being willing to risk the wrath of Hell and maybe get himself killed trying to protect Aziraphale from harm and now, we're closer than ever to that I love you under the surface and they panic and they avoid it for 80 some odd years entirely until World War II...

...and then we arrive at The Blitz in 1941. We are now a scant one hundred years or so until 6,000 years being up since the creation of Earth and Armageddon was always going to happen in "*about* 6,000 years" so, for all they know, this is it... and Crowley in 1600 told you how he feels about sad endings:

So while rescuing Aziraphale is nothing new, Crowley turned up in 1941 with the intent of making a better ending, in case they had now found themselves at the start of the end of the world. They were almost out of time either way and he didn't want it all to end without them having said the things but also they didn't know *for sure* if this was it... and they still can't be together if it isn't... so Crowley can't just show up and be like so, angel, I've been meaning to tell you in the actual words for the last six millennia-- I'm madly in love with you. He has to find a way to do it in their language of doublespeak. And so, here's Crowley using friend (loaded) in front of the Nazis in 1941:

By using my friend in the church, Crowley is then actually euphemistically calling Aziraphale my lover by calling back to The Globe Theatre and stealing the human coded term that Burbage used. Crowley does not care what the Nazis think. The comment isn't for them; it's for Aziraphale. So is letting Aziraphale find out about his first name, which is also calling back to The Globe Theatre. ("Anthony", pronounced "Antony", as in Shakespeare's 'Antony and Cleopatra', the play in which Shakespeare put the love poetry he stole that Crowley wrote for Aziraphale.) So is referencing the unguarded holy water in the church, which is then trying to talk about it a little by connecting it to this romantic grand gesture here and acknowledging why they panicked over it all those years ago. It's all saying I'm in love with you in their little language in the best way Crowley can in this moment.

But what did we say about friend (loaded)? We said they have to define it, right?

Because it can mean different things. Crowley isn't wrong to use it and Aziraphale understands it the way he does in the church. He understands it to euphemistically refer to them as lovers, which they are. It's just that all of this combined with Crowley saving the books then makes Aziraphale realize that it's one thing to say my friend (loaded) but if you say it and then there's holy water referencing and then there's more of the Shakespeare scene in there with Anthony and the little "you don't like it?" pout and then there's the entered a church for you and... you put all of that together with little demonic miracle of my own and saving the books...

...and Aziraphale realizes that Crowley is taking the thing that they always were-- my friend (loaded)-- and using it in the middle of saying that he's in love with him.

Crowley is trying to give it a word.

The word he's using meets all their language rules. It's from a moment in their past. It has a true surface meaning and a loaded undertone and subtext for days. He's not asking Aziraphale to use it. He's not saying the actual thing, as that would be breaking their rules, but he is absolutely saying it in their language.

He's not asking Aziraphale for it in return. He's just saying that this could all be over soon and he needed Aziraphale to know and in some ways, it's an apology of sorts. He's sorry they fought. He's sorry they lost years over it. He's sorry for the pain of it. He was in love, you see. The sex while pining got to be a lot. All of this got to be a lot. You get it now right, Aziraphale? Yes? Good. Lift home...

The phrase my friend (loaded) takes on a different meaning after Crowley saves the books and after their conversation inside and outside The Bentley. That's the point of the two "shut up"s-- the one from Part 1 and the one right after it where Part 2 picks up. Why have this conversation twice? Because it's actually two different conversations.

The first one outside The Bentley is Aziraphale in a love stupor, just telling Crowley that saving the books was a nice thing and Crowley responding with a half-effort "shut up" while he cleans his glasses. It's the only scene in the entire series to date in which Crowley is cleaning his glasses and he is in this moment to give Aziraphale his eyes for a moment. But The Blitz, Part 2 shows us this again... and then gives us the scene in The Bentley with what starts out sounding like the same conversation on the surface to start. It is, though, not the same conversation *under* the surface...

There's a reason why Aziraphale says a second time that saving the books was a nice thing. They're now in The Bentley, which is a little more private, and Aziraphale can't let this drop because he needs to know for sure what Crowley is saying with this and if Crowley's sure he wants to be saying what it seems like he's saying. This is basically Aziraphale's version of Crowley's "are you sure? are you sure you're sure?" in the magic shop later on. Aziraphale knows Crowley just said he's in love with him but Aziraphale also knows *Crowley*, right?

He's been with Crowley for a long time. He knows him very well. He knows that Crowley is anxious and emotional and hopelessly romantic and that the world is literally ending around them as they're driving through bombs raining down over London and part of Aziraphale is thinking of the fact that even in this seemingly apocalyptic Armageddon that could be starting here, Crowley was coded in what he just did. He left the traditional words on the table. He said the things in their language and that is, in some ways, even more romantic, but he's left them the things they leave out of hope for a better future, just in case. There's a caution to that and while Aziraphale appreciates the caution, he also can sense that Crowley was nervous about doing this. He is a little concerned that Crowley's going to have said he loved him and then regret it and pull away from him again and Aziraphale can't do the first bit of the Holy Water Arc all over again. He's really wanting to start to move into a lighter era here lol. He also really wants to be sure that he's understanding what Crowley is saying entirely.

And he wants to hear it again.

If Crowley isn't going to shut down on him entirely now, Aziraphale very much liked all of this and would like more of it but he first has to be sure he knows for sure what Crowley means and he can't just ask directly or he's both saying the things they leave unsaid and he'd be undoing Crowley's effort so he has to find a way to ask without directly asking and in such a way that an already sensitive about all of this Crowley won't take offense or be embarrassed and that gives them a way back from this if Crowley shows signs that he feels like he might have gone too far.

So Aziraphale offers Crowley an out.

He tells him again that it was such a nice thing Crowley did for him. He means this and it was a nice thing but this is also saying that he heard that I'm in love with you that Crowley was saying by saving his books and that he liked hearing it, that it was nice, that it was okay that Crowley did that, but that it's also okay if he feels like he made a mistake with it.

Crowley's response to again being told that it was nice is to again tell Aziraphale to "shut up", this one a bit more emphatically than he did outside The Bentley a few moments before. It's unclear to what extent this language, at this time, is sexualized, but by 2019/S1, this back and forth of Aziraphale calling Crowley "nice" and Crowley responding with some bite is a self-parodic sex game that they're playing in Tadfield.

Much of what happens in Tadfield is playing on other parts of their story-- think about the paintball bit with the gun but now with knowledge of The Bullet Catch in The Blitz, Part 2-- and there is a big difference in the ways Aziraphale calls Crowley "nice" in 1941 and in 2019. In Tadfield in 2019, Aziraphale is literally smirking in a way that implies that this is a little game they play and he's saying a series of things that he knows will prompt this intentionally outsized reaction from Crowley, who is playing it with him. The game is likely tied *to* this bit of 1941 that we see in The Blitz, Part 2 in S2, in that it's referencing it a bit (if very obviously going in a different direction lol), but also because Aziraphale's phrasing and tone in 1941 is not smirking. It's softer and quieter and not designed, through their language, to prompt a certain response out of Crowley. It's not yet a sex game, it's still a kind of conversation they've had in the past that will serve as inspiration for said sex game in the future.

While it's a bit unclear if a version of this already existed in 1941 or if 1941 is part of the evolution to what it becomes by 2019, there's a tone to it in The Bentley in 1941 that says that, at the least, Crowley suspects that Aziraphale is trying to lure him towards sex by calling him nice and that's reinforced by the next thing Aziraphale says, which continues it, but is also doing so to provide Crowley with an out to his confession of love, in case Crowley wants to take it.

Aziraphale's out comes in the form of offering him sex, which is absolutely what this is:

Oh, gee, Aziraphale, whatever could you do in this moment here in The Bentley? You aren't at all telling him you'd do literally anything he says he wants right now, right here, in his damn car, are you?

But while Aziraphale would so absolutely yes because lawd, 1941 Crowley is sldjwkejele... look at what he's *really* saying as well...

What he's saying here is we can pretend you just did all of that for sex, if you want to. I know you didn't and you know you didn't but we are good at pretending and if you're silently having an anxiety attack behind your glasses over there, we don't have do this...

Crowley's response?

The quiet "forget it, will you?"

Meaning: I don't want to take it back. I'm in love with you. I wanted to say it. I meant to say it. Everything might be going to go pear-shaped and I wanted to have said it somehow. I don't need you to say it. I don't know what I expected but I also maybe kinda didn't want the response to be 'aww, you're sweet... do you want a blowjob?' so maybe let's just drop this. We're going to never speak of this again now. Moving onto spreading the demon drink...

Crowley turns down Aziraphale's offer to make it about sex and, in doing so, Crowley says indisputably that it's about love. If he had taken up Aziraphale's offer in that moment, then it would have been agreeing to pretend that he's never said he's in love with Aziraphale and to instead pretend that the romantic-looking things were all an effort to get into Aziraphale's pants. When he turns down sex, Aziraphale smiles softly because, to him, *this* is then really the moment that Crowley said he loves him.

Aziraphale knows for sure now what Crowley was saying and my friend (loaded) now has a definition between them that means the whole deal. Since Crowley said the thing that meant lovers euphemistically as part of saying he's in love with him, then my friend (loaded) is now forever part of the night during The Blitz in 1941 when Crowley said he was in love with him, which means that they can't use any version of friend (loaded) with each other without that being part of it. Friend (loaded) always meant lovers (sexual partners) but now it also means lovers (romantic partners) as well. It's not that they just suddenly became romantic partners because it's been a romance all along but now they're acknowledging it in a way they can't go back from and they do so by giving what they are to one another a word in their secret language.

Aziraphale then wants to return the feeling. Crowley is saying that he doesn't need him to by telling him to forget it about it and wanting to move on from it but Aziraphale can't accept that. Crowley might be right-- this could be it-- and like Aziraphale's going to let Crowley potentially soon go to his grave without telling him he's not alone in how he feels. That's not happening. However you think the events happened to give Aziraphale the opportunity to rescue Crowley from the wrath of Mrs. H-- divine fate, Aziraphale miracling the bottles broken, The Bentley shipping it and helping Aziraphale, all of the above, etc..-- he gets the chance not ten minutes later and he takes it... and, of course, what does he use?

My good friend (loaded af lol).

They've already just redefined my friend (loaded) by this point, so to turn around and use it is to tell Crowley I feel the same way. I love you, too. This is Crowley's change in expression in reaction in that above gif. It's one thing when Aziraphale volunteers to help-- that is sweet and Crowley's all eyebrows raised in intrigued surprise. His whole expression then slips from that into being stunned when he hears my good friend and he realizes that Aziraphale is now grand gesturing *him*. He's realizing that the bit in the car really was just an offer of an out, not just that plus Aziraphale saying he was uncomfortable with what Crowley had said and needing it to stay a lot more hidden beneath a cover of sex. It was Aziraphale needing to be sure he understood and needing to be sure that Crowley was sure he wanted to make this change in how they are but now that he's sure on those things, Aziraphale is actually all in for it.

Worth mentioning that my good friend (loaded) is a mashup of my friend and my dear fellow, which makes it extra sweet. Just as Crowley started this by calling back to The Globe Theatre by using my friend (loaded), Aziraphale is calling back to the my dear fellow rhythm of what he's called Crowley for centuries. It says I love you and every 'my dear fellow' was not just fondness but an 'I love you', if you didn't already know. I've loved you forever.

It's also quite literally calling Crowley 'good', which is not something that he really believes about himself but is something Aziraphale believes about him. His good friend, as in close friend, but also his good friend, as in good person. He also does nothing to discourage Mrs. H's inevitable understanding that he and Crowley are a couple. He gestures between them to indicate it. He uses my good friend in such a way that it's just the same thing queer humans of the time would have said to someone low-risk (a theatre person) in London during WW2. It's completely inverted from his response to Burbage in a different theatre in 1600, in the moment this whole friend thing became a thing for them, which is also intentional. It's telling Crowley he understood all the things Crowley was saying in the church and he feels them, too.

Then, there's this, once they're back the bookshop:

Here, we're acknowledging what friends means now by pausing and emphasizing it. "That's what friends are for" is not a phrase that would require the pause and the tone on friends if friendship was all "friends" meant to them. It's not now and this is acknowledging that.

Note Crowley's little lip twitch/almost-sad-smile at what Aziraphale is saying. It's agreement. It's assent. This is them confirming that they understand what the other is saying and giving this new word a home in their language.

This is then what they call each other now when they need to talk about it and it's my friend on the surface and it's my love underneath.

There's a sadness to it. How nice it would be to just be able to say it... It's also a moment of realizing that they aren't sure they can use this word all the time. It's good to have a word and a shared understanding of what it means and they have no desire to take back these confessions of love here but while it's lovely to have said this now, it's also a bit heartbreaking.

Aziraphale's heartbreak, his little Crowley move of putting on his (transparent lol) glasses, his brave smile, and then how quickly they both transition from this conversation into The West End, The West End and I'm a lonely G.I... and The farthing *has vanished*! It shows you how accustomed they are to burying the pain under trying to live in the moment for one another.

A few moments after this, Aziraphale will be showing Crowley some of his human magic tricks in preparation for performing on stage and when they get to the point where Aziraphale is telling Crowley about Goldstone's Magic Shop, he then tells him that it's not for him because it's "for professional conjurers only."

This is somewhat unintentional metaphor on Aziraphale's part that Crowley then acknowledges and turns into coded language in his response. Aziraphale's love of human magic is metaphorical for his love of humanity and living in a way as to indulge his humanity in a way that angels have been taught not to do. The reason why Aziraphale's love of magic is this metaphor and not, say, his love of books or music or food, is because all of the other things that Aziraphale likes about the human experiences can be dismissed by him as relating to understanding the human experience *so as to be a better angel.* He's really not a student of humanity just to learn how to better guide them. He admits to Adam in front of Crowley in S1 that he thinks that humans are the ones who get it when he tells him that he hoped Adam would be good and worried he'd be evil but that he's something better than either of those-- he's human incarnate. Aziraphale can justify most of his indulgences as being related to learning human ways to relate to them to help them-- food, books (his home and his book collection can be justified as necessary cover for his angelic embassy), music, etc.... but the love of human magic?

Aziraphale just loves it. It's for him. It's his hobby. He thinks it's a little selfish and probably a lot unbecoming of an angel. He'd completely just want this for a job and he's not supposed to want a job other than to be an angel, which is supposed to be the bestest job imaginable lol. What kind of angel wants a silly human job? What kind of angel with actual magical powers is obsessed with human magic? Aziraphale is. He's endlessly fascinated. It makes him happy. It brings him joy. It's the part of living as a human that he's done in such a way that it's just for him and in such a way that it conflicts a bit with his role as an angel. The only other way Aziraphale loves like this, in this human way? The only other thing he studies at to be a better human over being a better angel?

Crowley.

So when Aziraphale says that he can't go to Goldstone's because it's "for professional conjurers only", Crowley knows that what Aziraphale is really saying is that the shop is "for actual humans only". He knows Aziraphale is admitting that he's sometimes insecure about his ability to be human because of how his humanity is tied to being an angel. Crowley knows that they're talking about Aziraphale and his human magic love on one level but that they're also talking about them and their relationship on another level. This is Aziraphale saying that he loves human magic with a passion but he's not sure he's as good as it as he could be or as he wants to be because maybe he doesn't know everything about being a human in the way that the "professional conjurers"-- humans-- know... and everything we just said he's unsure about with relation to human magic is also how he feels sometimes about loving Crowley.

This conversation is happening in an overlapping way with their friend confessions and Crowley hears that Aziraphale is saying in there that he loves Crowley with a passion but he's not always sure that he's studied enough, that he knows enough, about being human to be what Crowley deserves. He would love to go to this magic shop but he's afraid that it's not meant for him. He struggles, as Crowley already knows, with how he's not supposed to want it but oh he wants and he can't help but love magic and he can't help but love Crowley... all of which prompts Crowley to reassure him, using a now-familiar bit of their language:

"You, my Nefertiti-fooling fellow, are about to perform on the West End stage. If that doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does."

Meaning:

You, my human-passing man, are so good at this that you fooled the Ancient Egyptian Queen. You're about to perform your human magic on stage-- to make yourself vulnerable in a way that scares humans. You are always willing to take risks like that and try something new and learn more about being human and that makes you human. It's human to not totally know how to be human, I think. You're doing all of this tonight because you love me. It doesn't matter if you're a good magician or not. This love of ours is human and you're very good at it. You love me very well. If loving me doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does.

Crowley uses my [] fellow to emphasize my friend (loaded) by using the term of endearment that Aziraphale himself started that has human connotations to make the point that their love makes them human and to tell Aziraphale that he's very good at their love.

Aziraphale, understandably melting over that:

And then? They just keep using my friend. For decades. Through S2.

What makes it work for so long is the fact that it's human-coded in origin so if they run into a situation where they need to refer to one another like this, they can use it and it doesn't get a lot of questions. After the partners scene with Nina, Crowley uses my friend without thinking twice about it, telling her that she'll be safe in the bookshop because "my friend would never let anything happen to you." Nina already gets that they're friend (loaded) and she doesn't know what using friend means to them because only they know about 1941 but it's a phrase that they can use with the outside world if they need to but that mostly stays between them because only they know that, in their language, my friend = my love.

So when Crowley says I lost my best friend in the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene in S1, he means that he lost his best friend but he *also* really means I lost the love of my life.

The first thing my best friend means is just the actual, uncoded definition-- what the words really mean as they are. Aziraphale is Crowley's best friend. Whatever else they are to one another, they've always been that. The idea that he'd have to go through the end of the world and whatever came after without his best friend devastated him. In a lot of ways, it's sweeter than saying anything else, even if they weren't in a public space, because it's saying that what he'd miss the most is just having his partner in crime in life. The other layer of it is the coded layer. Since they are a couple that uses my friend in an euphemistic way for my love, then Crowley's my best friend in 2019 is the same thing as Aziraphale's my good friend was in 1941. It is my best friend on the surface and it is that but it's also my love beneath it.

This scene is also then the same thing in meaning:

And by S1's present of 2019, they're at a point of using it in an argument, which provides them the means to talk in a way they didn't have in 1862. Yeah, they have their dramatic little breakup spats but this is actually a marked improvement over where they were before the holy water mess. So now watch this bit of the bandstand again here below for the friend (loaded)...

Remember that Aziraphale lies increasing bits of absurdity when stressed and that Crowley knows that. He dismisses what Aziraphale says with that "you doooo" when Aziraphale tries the *utterly ridiculous* "I don't even like you" lol. They're both panicked about the end of the world here in Ineffable Divorce: Round One and Crowley's trying to get them to run away again, which is a terrible idea, but in the process of suggesting it, Crowley is calling them friends (now eternally loaded, as we just spent this meta proving lol) and...

...*how long* have they been friends does he say?

So, how long have they been in love, per their language, per Crowley in the bandstand scene?

Six thousand years.

Since the start.

Vavoom. Sorted. :)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens 1941 #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #they are a couple for ages

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nadjabea · 7 months

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If you take this into consideration, there is no way that Aziraphale's conversation in the last 15 minutes is really about going back to heaven with Crowley as an angel. He is not happy - his face shows it.

This is one of the premises why it is important to look into the subtext and the several layers of the last 15 minutes: Aziraphale doesnt believe that heaven is good. It is just distraction for the Metatron.

If you look at the body language, the signs you see: Crowley and Aziraphale are having a conversation in code - about how to trick heaven.

Aziraphale is frightened - for Crowley. Because the Metatron brings Crowley into their talk and Aziraphale knows (!) it is a threat.

So he hides Crowley in the safest place he can imagine: his, Aziraphale's, body and into the bee hive.

And Crowley agrees because he thinks he is going to save Aziraphale. This is why "Aziraphale/Crowley" looks so frightened when the Metatron tells him they are planning the Second Coming. Aziraphale tricked Crowley into the body swap to protect him - and at the same time putting a time bomb into heaven while he, Azi, will look around on earth (and hell) to find a solution to end this permanent threat of heaven and hell. Azi is fighter, Crowley an inventor.

So, yes, Aziraphale doesnt believe heaven is "good and the side of light" and we have witnessed how he realised this over the ages ("Shades of grey".

Cetero censeo: There is a body swap. ;-)

Thinking about how it should be clear...

...that Aziraphale DOES NOT trust Heaven and could not possibly be genuinely eager or hopeful about going back to or fixing Heaven at the end of S02. Fixing, maybe but even then honestly I don't know.

Just look at how he IMMEDIATELY went into protection mode for Jimbriel when he arrived. As soon as Aziraphale heard Jim of all people (angels) left Heaven to avoid something terrible happening, he didn't question it. He didn't say oh gosh how could Heaven do such a thing? Maybe you misunderstood! He IMMEDIATELY takes it upon himself to hide Jim from Heaven. Like I don't think Jim specifies Heaven was going to do something terrible but like, who else lol. Gabriel doesn't leave Heaven very often at all.

The rest of the season is just us getting some examples of why. Job, the cruelty of 'poverty gives you more opportunities to be good', and greatest of all - not only AngelCrowley's implied Fall for simply asking questions, but the fact that EVEN BACK THEN Aziraphale seemed to already know Heaven was not actually safe, that it was unsafe to stand out.

Ow it hurts.

#gos2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens analysis #good omens meta #body swap #body switch #aziraphale

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nadjabea · 7 months

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Just a thought: Could it be that Crowley miracles more lipstick on his lips when he is with Aziraphale?

In the scenes with Aziraphale his lips apear to be more red.

David Tennant as Crowley Good Omens, The Arrival, Season 2

#good omens #aziracrow #crowley

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nadjabea · 7 months

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Why a body swap has so much story telling potential, part 1:

The Metatron saying that the 'angel that would be Crowley' always asked that damen fool question to ... Crowley (in the body of Aziraphale).

You can see how Az!Crowley is pressing his lips together to NOT answer to the Metatron something not Aziraphale like.

Oh yeah, Crowley, we all know where he can stick it.

#this bitch knew...

#good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens meta #body switch #body swap #crowley #aziraphale

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nadjabea · 7 months

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The Ineffable Ducks

What's with all the ducks in Good Omens that Crowley seems to be inordinately fond of? Turns out, they do have a narrative purpose, they're not just in there as a running joke about Crowley's fondness for the animals of Earth.

They appear in both S1 and S2, and get mentioned in several seemingly random places. Like, really random. There are quite a few in St James Park, where the ducks live, where the international spies also clandestinely meet, where Aziraphale and Crowley meet on several occasions, and where Crowley and Shax have a meeting, exchanging information in S2E1.

Ducks also get referred to here, when Aziraphale suggests they use humans to search and spy out the missing Antichrist, but Crowley insists it will be near impossible because suspicion slides off the boy like water off, what ever water slides off, because he has an automatic defense system.

The he remembers the ducks(!) later in the Bentley when they discuss using their respective networks of highly trained human operatives (Shadwell and the Witchfinder army), and Aziraphale asks if Crowley has a better idea than his. "Ducks!" Crowley suddenly utters.

The ducks that are always there, that you see but don't see, gathering bread crumbs, when any kind of surveillance or secret spy work is being discussed.

Nah, I thought, it couldn't be a sly ref to this famous cartoon by Larson, could it?

Aziraphale and Crowley are always afraid that someone is watching, or listening to everything they do, from both sides. I mean isn't that partly why we got the ending we did in S2, because they have had to be so covert with their communication to each over the centuries they've forgotten how to speak plainly to each other?

Heaven has definitely been watching...

And Hell certainly noticed Crowley's act of kindness in the Edinburgh cemetery, swiftly summoning him to Hell for punishment after his kind deed on behalf of Elspeth.

Then when the duo meet in again 1867 Crowley wonders if "ducks have ears" before declaring they must do - that's how they hear other ducks. So its no surprise that when Crowley asks Aziraphale for holy water that he writes the request on a piece of paper to hide it from those invisible ever-present watchers they know are never far away.

When we come to the start of S2, where Crowley is slouched in St James Park once more, reading the Tadfield Advertiser, and yelling at the Azerbaijani secret agents for feeding the ducks bread. Crumbs, it was alright to do this in the book, and S1, why is wrong now? Has Crowley suddenly become woke and caring for the ducks? Nah.

There's a lot more to it than that. I realized this is the missing Grain offering from my post about altar offerings (see The Altar of Eccles Cakes) in S2. A Grain offering represents a voluntary expression of devotion to God - or the other side you're supposed to be aligned with, in this case.

Shax is part of this scene, discussing the latest news from below, and she mentions some special intel that Hell has received, from their own secret squirrel network. Of course they would meet in St James Park to discuss this, along with all the other spies. While Shax tries to get some intel out of Crowley about what might be going on in Heaven, because she knows he has contact with a certain angel who owns a book shop, Crowley responds by refusing to show any devotion to his former side at this point, and isn't going to give any information away that could be useful. He also doesn't have any intel at this point, anyway, but he's not going to give that away either! Heaven and Hell are toxic, and no one should be going anywhere near them, in his opinion. So stop feeding them that devotional bread!

After Shax asks what they should be feeding the ducks, he eventually says "Frozen Peas. It's good for them, they like it."

The short period of "peas" since they stopped the impending Apocalypse has been enjoyable, and good for Crowley and Aziraphale, but the forced meeting with Beelzebub later that day soon jolts Crowley out of any complacency when they indicate that the "generalized understanding" Crowley thought they had with Heaven and Hell after the body swap to leave them along, the one Aziraphale-as-Crowley negotiated, while asking for a rubber duck, no less, was looking very shaky and fragile indeed.

And one more random duck ref to discuss.

I was inspired to write this section by someone else's post calling Muriel a duckling imprinted on Crowley, and of course I did not save it, did I, and a search does not bring it back up again, so if you're reading this, or know that post, please let me know! I read it, and thought, cute, but nah, then realized that Muriel was sent on a surveillance mission to Whickber St to ascertain the truth of Aziraphale's 25 lazurii miracle. And she did act as the eyes of Heaven, writing up some reports, called Crowley "grice," then followed him around during his escapade in Heaven just like a duckling following a grumpy gander drake while he did his own surveillance measures in a Tactical Turtle neck, channeling his best imitation Sean Connery voice (have you noticed that as well, people?)

No, no, the op wasn't wrong - those big cross ducks, er grice geese, they make good guard dogs, no?

With special mention to Crowley acting as a surveillance duck just prior to this, and Mr Brown doing his own "spying out" of Aziraphale.

To finish this meta, there is one other figure who notably offered the ducks bread, in the book. This passage, which is surely relevant to S3, but didn't appear in S1, shows another character still devoted to God in a way. Lets give Death the final word:

Crowley: "Maybe it's it's all part of a great ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, him, everything. Some great big test to see if what you've built all works properly, eh? You start thinking: it can't be a great cosmic game of chess, it has to be just very complicated Solitaire. And don't bother to answer. if we could understand, we wouldn't be us. Because it's all - all - "

INEFFABLE, said the figure feeding the ducks.

"Yeah. Right. Thanks."

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nadjabea · 7 months

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hi there 👋 i love reading your good omens metas. i'm wondering if you have any thoughts on aziraphale's line to crowley in 1967: "i can't have you risking your life, not even for something dangerous". this always sticks out as odd to me. obviously he doesn't want crowley risking his life for any reason, so why this weird qualifier?

Hi @mybelovedismine Thank you so much. :) I am so sorry it took me awhile to get back to you. Love me some 1967 Crowley & Aziraphale and this question is great. Cheers.

1967/Holy Water Era/some S2 Aziraphale meta under the cut.

If you go back-- and I mean way back-- to the very opening bit of GO 1.01, it opens with what seems at first like it's just a quirky, funny scene introducing God and her sense of humor and the show's sense of humor. It is all of that but it also contains what I think is a really important piece of information-- especially with relation to the 1967 scene-- which is the date that Earth began in the GO universe. Crowley and Aziraphale don't know exactly when the end of the world will come but they know "about" when-- and that is a ticking clock running in the background for them for millennia.

The date that God gives us for the creation of Earth at the opening of S1 means that 6,000 years exactly would math out to October 21, 2004... but we also know that they don't know if it's going to be *exactly* 6,000 years. It could have been 5,900. It could have been 6,500 or anything in between. It winds up the super-cruel 6,004 years, beginning in 2008 in S1. What is clear to Crowley & Aziraphale is that their experience is closer to that of humans in a way because even though 6,000 years would be a very long time to humans, it's "nothing", as Angel!Crowley put it in Before the Beginning, to Crowley & Aziraphale... and there has always been a very good chance that it's all they will ever have together.

Their relationship is like someone turned over an hourglass on the wall at Eden and it's been dripping sand steadily in the background this whole time. It's partially why their relationship accelerates a little faster over the last few centuries, imo. There is a chance they're running out of time together. Armageddon means the Great War between Heaven and Hell and they are an angel and a demon. Whatever side wins the war is the one who will live on for all of eternity. The other one won't survive it-- or, even if they did, they won't be able to be with each other. Not to mention that Armageddon means that, regardless of who wins the Heaven and Hell war, Earth will be destroyed and their life on it together will be over.

Aziraphale always thinks Heaven will win. He always thinks it's him who will have to spend eternity alone. Part of this is because he has to tell himself that Heaven is still the side of good, even if it's flawed, because he can barely deal with the guilt over being part of the machine that's caused Crowley so much pain. Aziraphale also thinks, though, that maybe when the time comes, they can find a way out of it all, somehow.

In close to 6,000 years, the best plan they've got for dealing with this is Crowley's plan to just run away to Alpha Centauri and hope that no one notices that they're deserters. (So, not a great plan, but also they're up against the will of God here so kind of hard to try to work out a way around that.) In S2, Aziraphale is so desperate-- SO desperate-- for a way to not have to lose Crowley that he is willing to entertain the idea that he can trust The Metatron's word and beg Crowley to come to Heaven with him and be an angel again just so that they can be together forever. Aziraphale doesn't need Crowley to be an angel to know he's good and to love him-- he already knows and feels those things. He loves him so much that he can't bear the thought that he could lose him. He's never been able to bear that thought.

In 1967, they were running out of time and it's something that became increasingly intense for them the closer the years got to 2004 and the day they would hit 6,000 years since the Earth's creation.

In 1967, they were down to 37 years until 6,000 years were up, so the end of the world was, to them, a moment away.

It's not hard to see how Crowley wants to carpe diem and go for broke, in case it's all they'll ever have. He wants to be a little less careful. To try for the things they haven't been able to give each other while they've had to be a secret for so long. 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all', right? And they have loved, do love, are loving in 1967... but Crowley feels the time slipping away and his anxiety is dialed up to eleven under that cool exterior and Aziraphale knows him like he knows the back of his hand and he can see where this is all going... and it's not where either of them want it to go.

Think of this from Aziraphale's point of view...

Aziraphale is an angel. His soul is saved. He is meant to survive Armageddon. That, to him, is actually something of a curse at this point because it means that he'll live for eternity. For *all* of time. An absolutely incomprehensible amount of time. Neverending time. The kind of amount of time that would make 6,000 years feel like less time than it took you to blink while reading this sentence. And if everything goes according to what they know of God's Ineffable Plan or Great Plan or Whatever The Fuck It Is lol, he's going to live through all of this time alone.

Without Crowley.

Forget even the end of Earth and humanity (and that's hard to forget lol), Aziraphale is slated for a post-apocalyptic return to Heaven and a celestial cubicle and spending all of time with Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon and no food and no books and no music and even all of that, he could stand, if only he could just have Crowley with him and he can't.

Because Crowley's a demon. He's fallen. He's eternally damned. Heaven has socialized angels to believe that the war between Heaven and Hell that Armageddon triggers will be the big triumph of Heaven over Hell. Aziraphale tells himself he believes it but he's honestly more *terrified* of it than devoted to the idea. Heaven triumphing over Hell could kill Crowley. It's what Aziraphale is *supposed* to want as an angel but it's actually *the exact opposite* of what he wants. He adores Crowley. He will never-- in all of the infinite time to come-- ever get over Crowley and he knows it.

Even if Crowley somehow survives The Great War 2.0, Earth will still be gone and Crowley's fate is eternity in dark, cramped, literally painful damnation in Hell. There is no way for them to be together without thwarting the will of God and Aziraphale is an angel-- his entire purpose as a being is to serve God. It's what he was made *by God* to do, as far as he's been taught, and he mostly believes it... it's just that he also thinks he was made for Crowley.

This isn't just what Crowley thinks. Crowley isn't wrong that this is a mutual feeling:

Aziraphale felt that then, too, and he's never stopped feeling it. It blends sometimes with his faith in God-- something that, ironically, he sometimes thinks Crowley somehow has more of than he does. If God made him and God made Crowley and if God made them for each other, then it can't really be just to take them away from each other after such a short time, can it? Maybe they're meant for some other purpose in all of it?

But this is the same God that Aziraphale knows can be cruel...

Aziraphale has gone up against the will of God countless times over the years now and he is, for reasons he doesn't understand, somehow still an angel.

It seems unjust and honestly pretty profane to him that *he* is the holy one when Crowley's been through--quite literally-- Hell, for thousands of years, and his biggest sin is being curious. It is very hard to be told that you were created for the purpose of representing the side of good in a war against good and evil but to then, over and over and over, find yourself believing that the good guys are maybe not so good... all the while falling deeper in love by the day with a being your side calls 'demonic' and 'evil' but whom you know to be a sweet, romantic, smart, gentle, funny, kind cinnamon roll. Crowley is a demon and he's the best angel Aziraphale knows.

Now imagine you've all those conflicts and you're running out of time and staring down the end game of all of this and when you've got maybe, if you're lucky, a century and a half left or so worth of sand is still in the top half of the hourglass (mid-1800s), Crowley starts to pull away from you.

He's honestly never done it to this extent before. He trusts you with a surprising amount of himself and has since early days and, in recent centuries, you were happy together-- as happy as your situation would allow and that was more than you ever thought you'd have. This is the same being whose willingness to push through his fear of being vulnerable to have something honest and intimate with you has had you in awe of his bravery since you met. He taught you how to do that and now he's putting up walls you can't scale and slamming shut every open door.

You were happy together and then, you went on a date in Edinburgh in 1827 and suddenly, the centuries of peace and of getting away with it all ended in a literal second when Crowley got dragged to Hell two feet away from you. Hell didn't find out about the two of you or about Elspeth-- they were pissed about the human grave guards that Crowley accidentally sent to Hell for shooting Wee Morag-- but Crowley comes back a couple of weeks later and it's like it's all over already.

He's badly shaken. They hurt him. He spent time in Hell not sure if they had found out about you or if you were still alive. The anxiety, depression, and PTSD he has from being cast out of Heaven and a lifetime of trying to survive being a demon of Hell goes into overdrive and you don't know what to do. You've always been good at helping him. Nothing works. The bookshop-- your home but his, too, in your mind, the safest space he can go to to get away from Hell and get some rest-- isn't enough. He's not coming around the way he used to. He doesn't want to talk about any of it. The connection between the two of you-- emotionally, sexually-- feels like it's eroding. It hurts more than you want to admit. Your relationship de-evolves for almost 35 years as you watch the spark seem to go out of him. You don't know how to fix it and you try everything you can think of. You can understand how the ticking clock makes it all hurt more and you don't want him to be in any pain-- ever-- and you'd go away entirely if it was what he really wanted but neither of you know how to say goodbye because you both know that neither of you actually want to.

He's your best friend. He's the only one like you in the universe. You're both miserable and lonely without each other and it seems stupid to spend the last years you might ever get together apart but it also seems impossible to ever get back to where you were. Then, one day, after *years* of this, he asks you for the one thing that can *kill him*...

In the moment, all you can think about is that he wants to die because he's seemed like he does for decades now. All you can think of is that he is in so much pain and he wants nothing from you but the means by which to end it.

He's your lover. Imagine being told by the being with whom you've spent countless pleasurable hours in bed that all he wants from you now is a suicide pill.

He used to laugh. He used to be silly and hilariously dry-humored. He used to flirt with you and gaze at you from the couch on the bookshop, all pretty yellow eyes and lounging limbs, and now he's spine-straight stiff, like the pain is what's holding up. He arranges meetings in the park instead of coming over. He wears his glasses, all the time. You can't remember when the last time you saw his eyes was.

All of it says to you that you aren't enough and then he asks you to give him a suicide pill and you're broken-hearted-- you're just broken, period at the thought of him in so much pain-- and you're angry. You're furious. How dare he do this to you? You've been in love for millennia. He is your best friend. How dare he shut you out and leave you alone when you are going to be alone without him for the rest of bloody time?!

You're so in your feelings about him shutting you out that you know you have been failing at caring for him and not really helping the situation for awhile now. Your defenses have been up for awhile. Years, probably. You're caustic and, frankly, pretty bitchy in your bitterness. It's a little twisted but you've tried everything else and maybe if you could even just make him angry, it'd at least be something. He's barely spoken above a whisper in thirty years and sometimes you think about him off his head on laudanum in Edinburgh, drawing you to him magically by your bow tie to look at you over his glasses, inches away, and how you didn't know that was going to be the last time he ever really flirted with you.

So, when he asks you for holy water in 1862, you do your best to piss him off, since he won't accept anything else from you lately. You used to be wildly compatible and now you're broken and you're angry because God was always going to break your heart by taking him from you but he was never supposed to. He was supposed to love you-- those things neither of you say-- to the end.

You did get him angry. You both got angry. So angry that it felt over.

It wasn't. You saw each other again in the interim and it didn't just magically heal itself, like you wished it would, because you regretted how you reacted to the request for holy water but somehow talking about it felt too much.

Because you thought you might have understood it more afterwards.

Because you began to understand that he felt vulnerable. That he needed to feel like he could defend himself and, if it came to it, you. That maybe he didn't want to die-- maybe he wanted to live. That this was him asking you to help him figure out how to feel safe again-- something you've actually always been good at-- and you were so afraid, too, that you handled it badly.

Maybe one of the things you were afraid of in the moment was the way he talked about it going wrong, going pear-shaped, about him wanting insurance... about how there wasn't a way to reframe that in your mind to not mean that he meant he was willing to kill a demon in your defense or his-- which could kill him. It could send a legion after him and destroy him. There was so much that could go wrong. No matter what Crowley wanted holy water for, his death felt like it was the end game. You would throw yourself into Hellfire before you did anything that could cause him harm.

He had been pulling away for years but there he was saying I would kill for you. I would die for you. and that was the closest either of you had ever come to saying I'm in love with you. and you weren't sure what was more dangerous: saying those truths you both knew and felt or holy water.

Crowley didn't bring it up again and neither did you. You're useless without one another so you saw each other again within the next couple of decades. The Old West in America. Back in London in the 1920s and times in between. Neither of you ever discussed the Holy Water fight or what it meant. You secretly learned to drive, for the future, just in case, when he turned up stupidly in love with a car in 1928. You would die for that dumb car if only because of how Crowley smiled when he turned up to take you for a ride.

Over time, Crowley seemed to get a bit better and your heart burst just looking at him, even if it also ached with the knowledge that you had made it harder and hadn't known that time how to help when he needed it.

Then, 1941. The Blitz. Bombs raining down over London and the world on the brink of nuclear annihilation and maybe, just like the humans, you both thought this might be it. Time slowed to surviving each night and every moment felt like it could be the last and maybe that's why you both wanted a different ending.

Crowley always did prefer the funny ones.

In the middle of it, Crowley joked about holy water-- the first time either of you had mentioned it in 80 years-- and you heard it there, woven into his quiet, coded but undisputable, confessions of love. It was for you, it was about you, it was to keep you safe... it was because you were two feet away from me when they took me and I want to be with you to the end and it's the only thing that can help me keep you safe from them.

He doesn't ask you for it again. You know why. Things are good. He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want you to reject him again. He doesn't want to admit again that he feels unsafe. You think about giving him some after 1941 more than once but you are now afraid of what it might say to him if you do.

Because you could both be almost out of time, if everything goes pear-shaped when the clock runs out on about 6,000 years, and Crowley wants to try for more.

You both want forever. You both aren't sure that you'll even get tomorrow. The world is speeding up in 1967-- has been for decades now-- and you think Crowley is caught up in it. You both live in London, in SoHo, you'd be as safe as you could be. You'd blend in enough. It's too dangerous, though. It's not the humans you're afraid of, really-- not that the human world has ever been safe for your and Crowley's kind of love and you aren't sure that it will get there before it's all over. What you're afraid of is that you'll get caught by Heaven and Hell and you'll lose him before the about 6,000 years is up-- and then you will have no chance at all, whatsoever, of forever.

Crowley doesn't think he'll make it. He doesn't say so but his actions say so and his situation suggests it. He wants to go faster. He doesn't demand it, doesn't pressure you, but he periodically gently asks and you have to let him down somehow, you have to get him to slow down. It's not that you don't want him. If there were no risk to him, you'd never try to put up a speed bump. It's just that you are hopeful.

Ironically, you're hopefulness-- your optimism-- it comes from him.

He's brilliant. He's clever. Maybe, somehow, the two of you will find a way out of this.

You don't want to watch the world burn. You don't want to watch billions of humans and a whole planet and a whole solar system-- Crowley's nebulae-- destroyed for no reason and as much as you should be willing to go along with the Almighty's will, it's fucking ineffable and you secretly aren't sure if you believe in a God that would do this. You struggled during The Flood. You struggled over Job and Sitis' kids...

...if you are honest with yourself (and you are more than you care to admit), you struggle to be faithful to a God who has caused Crowley so much pain.

You think that, somehow, when the time comes, you and Crowley might find a way around it. How? You have no idea. None. But you think there is a chance that you could figure it out and so long as there is a chance-- even one, single, tiny, chance-- that somehow you and Crowley could survive it all and be together forever, you are not going to let him do something stupid and get himself killed trying to be together now.

You are not letting your far-sighted lover trip over his snake legs and go head-first into a faunt of stolen holy water that you could have given him safely 105 years ago, when he asked for it, and you fucked it all up...

You make him some. You use your powers and your essence and your body and turn water into a weapon for him. The real thing. The holiest.

You understand what it is to him now. It's not death; it's life. He doesn't want either of you to be in pain. He doesn't want to be left alone. He wants to feel safer. To be able to protect you from what Hell put him through and worse. He doesn't want to leave you. He wants a chance in Hell at surviving what's to come and an out for if it all goes pear-shaped and you want him to live and not to suffer and only you can give that to him.

You understand that now. It was never that you didn't trust him. It was that you didn't trust yourself.

You put it in a tartan thermos that silently says your anxious, emotional ass best thing of me before you ever decide to use this.

It also says this is for you to keep and it is of me and I know that's a risk if you ever get caught with it. I trust you to keep it hidden, like you do us, and protect me. This is for you and it looks like me and you know when the tartan started and why... you know it was because of our night in Edinburgh in 1827... you know it was the night they took you and I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and you know I've been wearing this pattern of us for 140 years and that I always will.

It's just that you also can't let him think that giving it to him is an assent of sorts. If Heaven or Hell ever found out you did this, they'd destroy you both.

So you rushed over with holy water, your tie undone, catching him before he can go any further with his scheme to pay humans to steal him some and you waited for him in the safety of The Bentley, one of the only places the two of you can actually talk with some expectation of privacy, and when he asks, you have to talk him out of it. You have to break his heart a bit. You have to disappoint him. You have to try to protect him from himself a bit or you'll lose him.

You tell him that you're giving him the holy water because you can't let him risk his life "not even for something dangerous." Dangerous is trying for more between you than there already is. You aren't rejecting him outright and he knows that. You never have, really. You see each other in secret. You have been for more years than either of you can count. You rely on each other to help each other to the right speed.

You need him to tempt you into giving yourself permission to do what you want and need but aren't sure you can or should. He needs you to help him keep from spiralling from anxiety.

He gets you to go a little faster-- not too much, at a pace you feel comfortable with. You get him to slow down-- gently, tenderly. You are both able to trust each other with your vulnerabilities and that's why it works.

He's blinded by the world changing in ways both exhilarating and also terrifying, by it breaking apart at the seams increasing his fear of running out of time.

You've been together for thousands of years.

You don't stay the night; you've never had breakfast together. You've never risked taking each other's hands in public. You've never directly said I love you.

If you can get him to see how dangerous it all still is-- because it is-- then maybe you can keep him alive long enough to have a shot of neither of you ever having to worry about losing each other again.

Somehow, it's not much different now than it was before the beginning. He's always been like this. Optimistic, progressive, free-thinking. Innovative. It might get you both out of all of it yet but it won't in 1967. He is caught up in the emerging new, human world and it's a heady cocktail when mixed with his existential terror. He's going to get himself fucking killed. You know better, just as you knew better before The Beginning. You know that too many questions, too much risk, will draw a metaphorical sniper's bead to his head. And you know that, on some level, he knows he needs you to rein him.

It's an era of freer sex and free love and wild, progressive music and art but... it's also an era of war and violence and assassinations... and Heaven and Hell are so far removed from Earth that it would take another 6,000 years to get them anywhere near close to this.

Crowley knows this, intellectually. You know he knows. He just feels the sand trickling faster and faster and there's hardly any of it left now.

You know how that feels-- you feel it, too. Every time you look at him. Everytime he slips away out the backdoor of the bookshop with a soft kiss and an even softer g'night, angel and you wonder if that was the last time.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

Crowley sees All You Need is Love but you can see December 8, 1980 coming at some point down the road. You've both been on this planet long enough to know what they do to the first ones who break away, to the ones who go against the grain, and the humans are no different from Heaven and Hell in that way. You cannot tell him yes or you will be killing you both.

You put it on yourself a bit. He goes too fast for you, you tell him. It's not untrue. He does. It's just that if it all were different, you'd never refuse him anything. You hope he hears it as your issue, not his, though you doubt he will. It is so hard to look at him and tell him no when all he is saying he wants is the chance to love you more.

God, there are days when you think he might kill you if he were to love you any more than he does. You don't know what you ever did to deserve his love. You don't know how you survived before you met him or how you are supposed to if you lose him.

"You go too fast for me" is what you say and you know he understands that it means:

You'll burn us fast and bright and it will be amazing but it will *end*. They will catch us. They will kill us. I can't lose you. If I thought all we could ever have would be just a short, few years, then I wouldn't deny you but I think we could find a way to have forever. Somehow. I have hope for that. I get that hope *from you.* I need you to slow down because I can't watch you get yourself killed. I'm not strong enough to lose you. I need you to let me pace this for awhile...

You want him to know you understand, that you feel it all, too. So, you tell him of the things you'd like to do, if it was safer, not knowing if it ever will be. The things you choose are of all of these holy water years. A picnic-- one implied to be in the daylight, in this future you're both imagining, this world you hope to one day see emerge. He had tried to take you on a graveyard one at midnight in 1827. You know that had been what that would have been had you not ran into Elspeth. The two of you sneaking around in the dark, as always, but together. Alive. Maybe, you tell him now, you could one day have that picnic together under the sun. You think you can see that world. You have no idea how it arrives but he's not wrong. You can see some things changing here and there's always hope that things could change with Heaven and Hell. He has taught you to keep the faith in how he's survived the worst and remains optimistic.

Maybe, one day, you could be angels dining at The Ritz. It is intentional that you reference World War II. It is a way-- the only way you can right now-- to tell him you love him, as you both did in your own ways during The Blitz. It is saying:

I love you. I would love that life with you. I won't give up on the idea of it-- of having more than a short burst of it. That is why I need you to slow down and stay safe. It's too dangerous for more right now. Take the holy water and take a breath. You're okay. You have me. We keep *each other* safe, remember? Slow down. I need you with me forever.

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