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leon-swedfinqs · 4 months

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Every Action, Crashing Down

Aziraphale had been twisting himself into a panic as he desperately tries to find the right time to break the news to his partner. This was for his safety, this was for the best, wasn’t it?

Crowley has been trying, again and again, to find the right moment, the right words to finally expose what the two of them have been too afraid to admit. Finally, he’s given that chance.

A Good Omens D&D Au take on the final 15 minutes of 2x06. A much happier ending, thankfully.

Read Under The Cut

Aziraphale was at his wits end, it felt like. Like he hasn’t had a chance to properly breathe, a chance to slow down. His chest was heavy with the burden of guilt.

The image of Crowley kneeling on the ground, his skin burned and clothes charred as the recently freed celestial energy seemed to swirl around him and taunt him in mockery. The colorful swirls made his tears look like gold, as he shook and held the recently transformed scale-covered claw against his chest. Adam Young was a few feet away, fallen into a pile made up of his friends, also frozen in fear as they stared at the stars and fire that prevented anyone from getting too close. Aziraphale wasn’t even physically there, instead standing alongside the illusionist’s spirit as he was physically trapped in the town square by a witch finder and the townspeople holding him, bound in rope that ate at his wrists and ankles.

Crowley was freed, in the end. He had approached in his ethereal form and protected him from the light, though Aziraphale struggled to remember how. But even once it seemed like his partner was safe, the two were kept at a distance as Aziraphale was questioned for his affiliation and Crowley was brought back to the Young residence to heal with the boy.

All the cleric could think of was how he was the reason Crowley was inadvertently hurt by him. By his insistence, his stubbornness, his inability to lie and keep a secret. Pulled his partner directly into the mouth of the beast that was his biggest nightmare. One thing led to another, of course, as those thoughts brought on more memories of their previous travels. Again and again and again, it seemed that Aziraphale’s decisions kept hurting him, putting them both in danger, making them lose tremendous amounts of money.

Aziraphale understood that this was flawed thinking. He understood that not everything his mind and memory was telling him was true. His was stuck in his head, he was overthinking it surely.

“If you were putting Crowley at risk, then he would’ve left on his own a long time ago.”

But could that really be true? What if he simply stayed out of pity for the naive and silly cleric with little magic skills and a peculiar religious connection?

These thoughts continued to plague Aziraphale for weeks on end, long after Crowley had healed and was more than ready to go on more quests together. It seemed that the tiefling was eager, in fact, despite what his aloof manner makes it seem like. At every turn he was pulling Aziraphale to do something new, urging towards a more settled down sort of life in their base between missions. It was like a dance the two would perform.

Aziraphale would start and lead with his guilt and concern over Crowley, desperately wanting nothing more than to protect him and offer him security. Keep him from the prying eyes from the townsfolk, to keep him concealed by whatever was searching for him, by trying his best to keep his distance.

Crowley would answer and guide with a rebuttal of sorts. He would derail Aziraphale’s subtle attempts to try to leave or push him away by accepting long term-high reward quests, or making an elaborate dinner to share together by the fire. In the heat of battle Crowley would jump to protect, to assist, even to heal with potions. He was more open, more willing, he kept pulling.

Their actions told opposite stories, their actions told opposite pleas.

“I want to keep you safe. And safe is away from me.”

“I want to keep you close. I want you to be close. You complete me.”

But these words were never once spoken to the other. They just kept dancing.

However, one of the two was the better reader.

The cleric was acting weird, Crowley couldn’t help but wonder on a near daily basis.

During those weeks he spent cooped up in an estate house, going on missions alone to provide money for them to sustain themselves, Crowley kept going back and forth on if he wanted to stay once this was all over. Their arrangement was temporary — they stuck together because it was convenient, because it was easy. They were lacking integral skills in order to survive and thrive as adventurers, they needed the help in order to build up their abilities and become more capable. The more solo missions he takes, the more Crowley realized that he’s more than capable of being on his own. His aim is consistently accurate, he has the knowledge to mix his own healing potions, his stealth skills have vastly improved — why should he even bother staying with someone else? Sticking with another body fundamentally makes it harder for him to hide as he has no choice but to remain low for the rest of his life. Due to this partnership, his name is plastered on job ads, and he’s the regular at many businesses back in their home base village. He’s exposed, open, and vulnerable. Having someone else is just plain cumbersome.

The security and care he felt while he was shielded by Aziraphale’s spirit when it felt like he was about to nearly lose everything he worked so hard for was something Crowley never experienced before. As he was surrounded by Aziraphale’s presence, the light blocked by bright wings and the soft yellow glow of the halo, Crowley finally understood why he subconsciously stuck around for so long.

The dance, their arrangement.

His own actions to keep the music going.

It was an act of love.

For weeks, now that he has a clear head, Crowley has been plotting a way to expose their dance and ask to make it their reality. This comfort, this sense of home, this love, was something he didn’t want to let go.

Crowley had an idea in his head on how this was going to play out.

He was going to make sure to choose a day where it was clear that Aziraphale was in a good mood. A day where he felt more relaxed and comfortable, openly smiling and accepting to small physical touches, willing to go out on brief trips, simply just exist without a guilty expression on his face.

Then he was going to whisk the two of them away for a nice brunch out in town at their favorite bakery.

As his partner would indulge in his favorite pastries, Crowley would (gently) expose their dance and confess how he feels. Of course, the Angel would brightly smile and return the sentiment, and they get to stay together.

The plan was perfect, it was fool proof.

It took a while for him to build up the nerve to even consider choosing a day — it seemed that Aziraphale was all over the place, acting oddly distant and dismissive. It seemed as if he was worried over Crowley, at least from his perspective. He would occasionally catch a few side glances every now and then.

Finally, finally it seemed like he was able to catch the perfect moment.

Aziraphale was trying to plan to break the news to Crowley — he wanted to protect him, to keep him safe, to keep him out of the public eye to keep him hidden. He was practically a walking beacon with his halos and sword, two items that screamed his affiliation. He can’t have the tiefling follow behind him all of the time if all he did was attract attention.

As much as it broke his heart, they had to go their separate ways. While he longed for them to continue traveling together, for them to be together at a deeper level, this was the more logical step for their long-term survival.

He had a simple plan to lay it easy for the rogue.

First, he had to catch him on a good day. One where Crowley was relaxed and comfortable, least likely to explode into a bad mood.

Then, he would make sure that Crowley was sitting down — preferably with a cup of coffee or even whisky to calm the nerves.

Finally, he would admit his thoughts and propose the idea that they should travel alone from now on. Hopefully, Crowley would understand where he was coming from and easily agree.

It was simple. It was perfect.

Now he just had to calm his nerves and go for it.

Later that week, as the two stood together in the kitchen to share their morning tea and toast, both of them clocked how at ease the other seemed. Aziraphale hummed as he stirred the sugar and honey into his mug, and Crowley would quietly sway as he stood besides his chair.

The cleric wasn’t running away.

The rogue wasn’t antsy.

They’ve accepted their plans and were ready to move forward.

After cleaning up the dishes, Crowley quietly slipped out of their small base to head out into town to check on the bakery to double check that it was going to be serving breakfast later that day (and possibly to ask one of the employees to save a few pastries for when they arrive as they do tend to sell out).

“Ah, Mr. Crowley! Good morning to you,” the employee, a lovely half-elf he had come to know as Nina, hummed. “The usual I suppose?”

“Add in a dash of cream with it, please — I need to keep my nerves,” Crowley said as he leaned against the counter.

“Your nerves?” Nina asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. “Is something going on?”

Crowley had practically become a regular at this bakery, with how often Aziraphale would send him there to pick up bread or quick meals for them to share. While he would wait for one of the bakers to gather his order, he would stand up front and get a large cup of espresso and chat with the manager. It was the main way he learned about village gossip — being one of the main baristas, Nina was told all sorts of secrets from customers who would come in and out of the shop all the time. From the conflict in the square over the job board, to the rumors about crushes between shop owners, she has heard everything. Crowley would find himself spilling to her every now and then, with the comfort knowing that his secrets were safe behind her lock and key.

“You know, the, uh…the thing,” Crowley sputtered.

“The…thing?” Nina echoed.

Crowley quickly nodded. “The thing. I’m planning to say the thing. I, nnn, fuckin…I’ve been waiting for the time to say ‘the thing’, and it finally looks like he isn’t two seconds from running to the hills or crumble under some strange pressure I can’t identify. It’s like a reset button was pressed! I need to say it now, or I’m going to clam up, and we’re going to keep going in circles and things are going to keep becoming more and more weird and awkward, and I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that, and-“

“You need to get that gob under control,” Nina said with a laugh while placing a ceramic mug in front of the man. “In order for you to say ‘the thing’, you’re gonna have to save your words for it.”

Crowley took a quick swig of his espresso before heavily sighing. He solemnly stared down at the deep brown liquid.

“We’ve been traveling and working for, what…25ish years? Met when we were both young and stupid, kept moving between towns in search for quests, finally settled down at a home base and have been working ever since.”

“That’s what you’ve told me,” Nina hummed. “You basically made a business front for yourselves and have become infamous faces around here. Like that book hoard we can see through the upstairs window.”

“The ‘library’,” Crowley corrected. “It’s Aziraphale’s favorite loot to collect. I don’t even want to think about what could be on the covers on some of those books or hidden between the pages,” he grimaced. “Our storage room became the library because he just kept getting more books whenever we went out.”

Crowley glanced out the storefront window to eye up his ‘home’. The bottom floor was their “shop” of sorts were people could come in and hire them for the day, or search through the loot they were offering to sell in case they needed any strange objects. Crowley would spend hours sifting through everything to choose stuff to put up front. He would say to Aziraphale that he was doing this to clear up more space in their living quarters, when in reality he enjoyed making arrangements of objects to pair together in a sort of scheme to sell as much as humanly possible. It was like a fun game to him. Behind and above the main store front was where they lived. The place came with a couple of extra bedrooms, but only one was used at a time (they never seemed to sleep at the same time, and when they would sleep both had an affinity for the bed on the top floor, with a window that faced the sunrise). There were readings rooms, a common area, kitchen, everything they needed. It was oddly a very domestic arrangement, one that they never thought they’d find themselves in. Little details filled the corners of this area — plants Crowley would bring back littered every corner and empty space, a large portion of one of the spare rooms was taken up by a large tank that held a snake, and what was called the “office” was littered in papers covered in Aziraphale’s frilly handwriting.

“We have a life here,” Crowley lamented. “A comfortable one. A safe one. Right now, we are living together separately. I…I just…I want this to be us living together. Completely.”

He sighed and glanced down at his cup as he gently swirled it around in circles. He watched as the cream mixed a bit more with the coffee, making the liquid a bit more lighter in color.

“If he didn’t like this arrangement, he seems to be the type that would’ve left a long time ago,” Nina said. “What’s the worst he could do if you asked?”

“Well, he could stab me with a blade, for one. Or blast me with magic. Or stab me with a flaming blade instead, that’s more likely,” Crowley quickly responded. “We’ve never had this conversation before, not even as a campfire sort of chat, so I don’t have a single clue about how he feels about anything romantic, let alone from someone who is probably the same gender, I mean he comes from a very strict religious background and I’m sure you’re aware about what kind of stuff those folks are really weird about, and-“

“Anthony,” Nina quickly butted in to make him stop. “I bet you that Mr. Aziraphale is not like that, I’m sure that he’s completely far from that. I have seen the way that he looks at you, how he talks to you. I see it loud and clear. You guys, you just…”

She sighed and shook her head. As she gently placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, she made direct eye contact with him.

“You two don’t talk about the important things. The really really important things. You talk around the important things and hope that the other person picks up on what they’re trying to say. I’ve seen it while you have your lunches, I’ve heard you complain about it nearly a million times now! You guys need to talk, you need to do ‘the thing’ and say something!”

~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale was wearing a path into the floorboards of the front room. Crowley had suddenly ran off and his thoughts immediately began to spin and scream.

“You’re running out of time, he seemed excited about something, you’re both becoming way too comfortable with this! You are blatantly putting him in danger for purely selfish reasons, you can’t let this go on any longer!”

His thoughts kept berating him with harsh words, kept pushing him with memories of recent events that filled him with fear that even he hasn’t admitted to Crowley about yet.

The cleric had gone out a couple of weeks ago on his own to a market in a nearby town. He did this to give himself some space, he did this to create some temporary distance between him and his partner, he did this…he did this because the distillery that made Crowley’s favorite bourbon finally restocked and he had promised that he would get him some that weekend to celebrate their recent mission. The particular bourbon was the one that Aziraphale had given to him on what he had determined was the tieflings’s birthday ages ago, and was insistent that he keep it despite the fact that he got the date wrong by a couple of months. That drink, both for the memories and the taste, had easily become his favorite and the rogue tried to keep at least one bottle in the building if possible.

While he was out in the market, both buying the bottle and grabbing some supplies he normally can’t find at home, Aziraphale was struck by a horrifying and familiar sight. Across the crowds of villages and travelers was the face of one of his Brothers, the halos shining in that distinct light-purple hue that identified the particular brother. He was standing and talking with someone who was unfamiliar to the cleric, a short dark elf with scruffy black hair, and an official looking uniform with a shining medallion on the lapel. Aziraphale was quick to leave once he willed himself to move again, his heart pounding in his ears as he prayed that the two did not see him as he fled.

They were looking for him, that much was for certain. It wasn’t long before they would find him and whisk him away, putting Crowley and the rest of the village in danger in the process.

Aziraphale stopped, catching his breath as he started to make himself pant in his panic. Taking a quick survey of the area outside of the windows, the cleric noted that his partner was still away to gods knows where. With the allotted time, Aziraphale quickly got down on his knees and clasped his hands in prayer. He bowed his head, halos nearly slipping over his eyes, blinding him in their light, as he concentrated.

“Dear Ecliel, forgive me for my insolence and greed as I have held onto my time for far too long. I admit to this hubris,” he started in a hushed breath. “I have clung to him, I have held him down and nearly dragged him into my own pit of despair and sins because I could not let go. I beg of thee, spare him from my mistakes, bring guidance to help free him from his own chains and bring him a bright and prosperous life away from the demons of the past. Be the guiding star I selfishly tried to be instead. Amen.”

His words echoed into the ether, their message and magic spreading into the air in search for their receiver. Aziraphale sat frozen, letting his confession sink into his soul, his words repeating in his mind lest he forget.

It’s been so long since he has prayed. He hopes that She will finally listen to him and spare him with Her grace.

A creak on the front porch outside of their door made Aziraphale shoot up in a panic and quickly dust off his tunic in order to look presentable.

Bag sitting on the front desk filled with potions and his notebook of spells?

Check.

Sword held in its sheath strapped to his side by a belt?

Check.

Pockets filled with extra cash that he has saved on the side in case of emergencies?

Check.

There was no going back now. This was the next step. This was the necessary step. No more dancing around the conversation.

He had to tell the truth.

After fighting with the door, Crowley stumbled into the main room, bearing a smile on his face and holding a sack of pastries under his arms. As he struggled with his keys to ensure that the door was properly locked, Aziraphale meekly entered the room and stood by the doorway near the front desk, ringing his hands together to try to calm his nerves. As Crowley turned, the two made quick eye contact. The tiefling brightened, Aziraphale winced in fear, as the two stepped towards each other.

“Ah, perfect timing! I stopped by the bakery and talked to Nina, she said that they’ll be cooking brunch today-“

“-Ah, Crowley, I don’t mean to interrupt but there is something that I must-“

“-and I thought, ‘oh perfect! We have completed a bunch of successful missions recently and haven’t had time for a sit down meal’, so I got some-“

“-tell you and I really think we should sit down and have an honest conversation because this won’t be easy for me to say, so just, please-“

“-of your favorites and figured we could go out because there’s been something on my mind and I really think that-“

“-we need to talk.” “-we need to talk.”

As the two kept talking at each other, they kept getting physically closer and closer together. The two owlishly blinked at each other in disbelief as their rants synced up at the same line.

“O-oh, oh goodness, oh dear,” Aziraphale fussed as he started to internally panic. “W-what was it you were trying to say my dear?”

“Ah, um…” Crowley rubbed the paper of the pastry bag between his fingers before ultimately decided to place it down on the counter that ended up beside them. He wrung his hands together and gestured vaguely at the cleric. “You should go first.”

“Crowley, ah-“ Aziraphale started to pick at the skin around his finger nails in an attempt to calm himself. “No, really, it’s okay, f-forget it.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow in suspicion as he felt Aziraphale’s anxiety hit him in waves. He looked flighty again, like he has been for the past week or so. There goes that plan entirely, at least for now. He waved dismissively and let himself physically relax as he already accepted the failure. “No, really, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale immediately deflated at the question. Of course he was able to pick up on his panic, it was probably crystal clear on his face. He took a brief moment to take a deep breath and compose himself as he faced the tiefling.

“I-I, uh…goodness…this isn’t really the right time to bring this up, but honestly there hasn’t and probably will never, uh, be a um…there will never be a good time for this,” Aziraphale rambled. “I have a proposition. An arrangement, I suppose it would be better phrased as.”

Aziraphale gulped as he watched the tiefling narrow his eyes in suspicion and glare at him, an eyebrow raising to prompt him to continue. He just had to keep pushing and say the line. This was for him, for his safety, for his life.

“I…” Aziraphale pointedly made an effort to look away from Crowley’s face. “I believe our time working together, our arrangement, has run its course. I-it’s time for us to travel and work on our own. F…far away from each other. Protect and help more people by spreading out to reach others out there. On…o-on our own. For the foreseeable future.”

Crowley took in a sharp breath through his nose as he processed the clerics words. The other man was biting his lip as he forced himself to put on a pained smile to try and soften the blow of the true meaning behind what he had said.

Oh. Just his fucking luck. Absolutely brilliant.

Crowley growled in annoyance as he grabbed his glasses and tore them off his face, gripping them tightly between his claws. He swiftly turned away from the human, grimacing in annoyance as he tried to ignore his heart breaking into a thousand piece.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise. He stepped forward, and in an attempt to gain control over the situation, started to speak without thinking.

“M-my dear, please, this is for both of our benefits, for our safety, for your safety, you have to understand-“

“Oh I understand,” Crowley spat. He swiftly turned and made direct eye contact with the other man, his eyes wet with brewing tears. “I understand completely.”

Aziraphale could feel the fire emanating off of the rogue as he stared into his golden eyes, the irises pin-sharp slits that bore into his soul. The air was thick and dense, the tension creating static that kept pricking at both of their skin.

After what felt like minutes of silence as they stared, it seemed the tiefling finally broke as he fell back and physically relaxed, a look of defeat forming on his face.

“Fuck, okay, if I don’t say this now then I will probably never get the opportunity again. So I might as well say it while I have you right here in front of me.”

“Crowley-“

Aziraphale was quickly shut up by the sharp and deadly look the rogue gave him the moment he dared try to speak.

Crowley took a deep breath. This wasn’t the circumstance that he wanted. This wasn’t what he planned. In fact this was far beyond that. But there’s no going back now.

“We’ve been working together for a long time, you and me. A couple of decades now, it seems, though honestly it feels more like thousands and thousands of years. It’s just been us, the two of us, a team, a group, a party. We’ve fought and battled and won and lost, and we’ve settled down in this dinky little shop in this dinky little town. And we’ve been here. Together. Comfortable and settled into our roles separately. And, a-and I would like to spend-mmm…“

Crowley shuttered as he sniffed and looked away. He needed to compose himself. Keep himself together.

“A-and I would like to spend this life together. Comfortably together. We’re a package deal, the two of us. Throw away the past, f-focus on the present. Together.”

Crowley turned and made eye contact with the cleric again as a single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek and getting caught in his scales.

Aziraphale couldn’t breathe as he blankly stared at his partner in disbelief. All this time…all this time he ran away, afraid that his feelings were null, a fantasy, a farce. But now…it was too late.

The silence bore into Crowley’s soul. Aziraphale was staring at him, with pure horror on his face.

“R-right,” Crowley huffed out in a laugh as he shook open his glasses and placed them back on his face. “You don’t need to tell me. I’ll go pack and get out of here.”

He kept his expression neutral as he slipped by the cleric to head up the stairs to their living quarters. Aziraphale had to will himself to move and turn towards him.

“C-crowley, wait!” he desperately called as he started to pant.

It was becoming difficult to breathe. The air was thick and stale, clogging his lungs like he was underwater. What did he do, what did he do, what did he do??

Crowley paused and turned slightly, his expression softened just a smidge as he gazed down at the frantic human standing before him.

“Don’t bother,” he said calmly as he started to continue walking towards the stairs again. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”

“I-I need you!” Aziraphale blurted before he could even think, his thoughts turning a million miles per hour. “Forgive me!”

Crowley paused as he grabbed the handrail, the weight of the cleric’s words falling upon his shoulders.

The desperation. The fear. The care and love and protectiveness over him. The secrets untold just waiting to burst and fall open. It was all so heavy and burdensome.

“You idiot…” Crowley huffed out in a laugh. “Oh you absolute idiot.”

Aziraphale started to shake as he tried to watch his partner, his vision swimming and twisting. What has he done, what has he done, he’s ruined this, he’s ruined everything, he’s ruined it all again and-

The cleric barely processed in his storm of thoughts that the rogue had turned and quickly marched towards him, his expression both broken yet determined and confident.

Crowley gathered his nerves and decided to take initiative as he stepped away from the stairs and swiftly turned, using the burst of confidence he had to turn back and face him.

One step. Two steps.

Claws snagged at the scraggly white fabric and pulled the body forward, causing it to emit a shocked yelp in surprise.

Grabbing the cleric by the neckline of his shirt, his knuckles white and holes tearing in the fabric, Crowley pulled Aziraphale towards him. In the center, the two collided in a kiss like they were two stars smashing into each other, exploding into brilliant light and dust and fire.

The two clung to each other like magnets, refusing to pull apart in this frantic and desperate embrace.

Aziraphale hung onto him, pulling him closer and closer in an attempt to not let him slip away. He held Crowley like he was something he was going to lose, like he was something he had finally pushed away in his dumb-witted attempt to protect him, like he was something he needed to stay together.

Crowley gripped onto Aziraphale’s shirt, keeping his hold strong and tight like he was something that was going to frantically run away the moment he would let go. He held Aziraphale like he was something he desperately wanted, like he was something he wanted to keep, like he was something he wanted to make understand that it didn’t need to disappear, like he was something that truly completed him.

Aziraphale was shaking as he helplessly tried to find a place to put his hands on Crowley’s back, desperate to return the sentiment in order to tell him that this was what he wanted, that he was mistaken, that he was a fool.

Oh, how it seemed that the world spun around them, blurring their separation to make them one ambiguous figure made up of clashing colors. Pointy lines and soft, gentle curves, deep reds and quiet blues, two separate ends of the spectrum that were nearly identical when looked at up close. The fates kept drawing them closer and closer, coincidences had become truths, light and dark had mixed and become a soft gray.

The mass seemed to split as Crowley broke them apart, panting as he tried to catch his breath for the angel had stole it. Aziraphale stumbled back in surprise, desperately trying to breathe as a shaky hand touched his lips, feeling the ghost of Crowley’s presence.

The rogue stared at his opposite as his body buzzed with adrenaline, his mind and voice completely silent and spent. While the angel’s halos were blindingly bright, Crowley did not squint as he studied Aziraphale’s shaking form. In a snap, their eyes met, and Crowley finally took a deep breath in relief.

His gaze wasn’t fearful or regretful. He couldn’t identify any doubt, any questions, any arguments. Aziraphale’s eyes were wet and shining, yes, but it was clear that he was far from upset.

“Please…” the cleric breathed. “Do it again. Please, do it again.”

Tears escaped from him as the angel pleaded. Crowley didn’t even need to think, he didn’t need to say a single word as he stepped close again and reached, gently cupping the cleric’s face in his hands. As their lips met once more, with less desperate ferocity this time, and their eyes gently closed in comfort, Crowley felt Aziraphale’s arms drape over his shoulders, his body melting against his as he finally relaxed.

“I’m not leaving, I was a fool. I’m still a fool. Will you ever forgive me for this mistake?” was what Aziraphale’s heart was pleading.

“Don’t be fearful. Whatever made you want to run, it’s our battle now,” Crowley’s heart called back. “It always has been, it always will be. Stay with me.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

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