Work Text:
“I said terrible things, Crowley.”
Aziraphale twisted the angel-motif ring on his pinky finger around in agitation, looking to Crowley for some sign, some expression that would let him get away without delving deeper into the details of their fight.
Three days had passed since they helped avert Armageddon, and after just a minor little appointment with Heaven and Hell that turned out rather well into their favour, life had settled back down to the easy comfort of the last six thousand years.
That is, until they found themselves at the old bandstand.
Crowley looked at him impassively through his sunglasses, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Aziraphale twisted his ring some more as he struggled to see beyond the tinted lenses. When Crowley didn’t answer, he tried again, stepping closer to bridge the gap between them both physically and metaphorically.
“I am your friend. I’ve been your friend. And I do like you, I do. Very—very much.”
“You were being stupid,” Crowley finally said, his face still expressionless.
“Yes,” Aziraphale eagerly agreed, encouraged by the response.
"How stupid?” Crowley pressed on, mercilessly.
“Incredibly stupid.”
There was a heartbeat’s pause before Crowley grinned, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“All right then,” he said, sidling up to Aziraphale in one easy motion. It was, the angel knew, the closest Crowley would come to saying I forgive you. Those words were too Heaven-like for the demon’s tastes, so Aziraphale smiled and bumped him ever so gently with his shoulder.
They walked in silence for a little while, the bandstand growing more distant behind them.
“Why did you go to the bookshop?”
The question had weighed on his mind, even when he was still discorporated. He had given Crowley such a terrible farewell, even after Crowley had come screeching back to him like hellhounds were chasing the Bentley, shouting his apologies and desperate plea for Aziraphale to join him for all of SoHo to hear. He had thought, as he watched Crowley drive away, that they’d never see each other again.
Emotion welled in him, cracking his voice. “Why did you come back?” The words were soft, confused and pleading.
Crowley laced his fingers behind his head, rocking back on his heels. There was a smile in his voice as he sighed.
“How can someone so clever be so stupid,” he murmured. “After everything... I’d still choose you.”