Chapter Text
Aziraphale stepped into the pub, crowded even this late at night, and smiled at the throng of people gathering in the same place for a drink. Televisions in the corner displayed a mix of sporting events and what looked like a concert, and he assumed the music that was barely discernible beneath the various conversations was from the performance, but he didn't care for it and so didn't both to confirm. After all, as nice as the crowd was after the empty offices of Heaven, he wasn't here for the ambiance, or even for the food. No, he was here on a mission. He scanned the crowd, as he had so many times before over so many years, for a familiar head of bright red hair.
He found Crowley at a table in the far corner, slumped in his chair and drinking alone. It didn't seem as though he was there for anything other than the alcohol, and he also looked more miserable than Aziraphale had seen him since that bar in Rome. He took an unneeded breath and straightened his shoulders. This would not be a pleasant conversation, he knew, but if he managed it, everything was going to be alright.
Steeling himself for whatever reception he might receive, Aziraphale stepped around the people milling at the bar, through the sense that he actually didn't want to go to the table in the corner after all, and took the empty seat across from the demon.
"Hello, Crowley."
"No."
He blinked."Sorry, what?" Crowley hadn't even looked up at him, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but still resolutely focused on his glass.
"Whatever it is you need, the answer is no." He picked up his whiskey and swirled it before taking a sip and waving him off. "So you might as well toddle off back to Heaven."
"You don't even know what it is yet," he said, deciding to overlook the fact that Crowley had presumptuously assumed he needed something. Largely because he happened to be right.
"Doesn't matter, does it? Whatever it is, I'm not doing it."
That stung. He had, almost from the first, longed to have Crowley's help with his suggestions for changes in Heaven. Everything he'd tried so far was languishing in committee, so must be making some sort of mistake with them. It hurt that he couldn't rely on Crowley for the first time, but it was understandable. It was also correctable. He just had to soldier on. "But this is our fault, so we have to fix it."
"Our fau— What on Earth could possibly be 'our fault' when you've made it very clear there isn't an 'us' to be responsible for anything?"
Oh, that was even worse. As painful now as when Crowley refused to come with him. When he'd argued against the best opportunity either of them had ever been given. Aziraphale still couldn't find the words to tell Crowley that he hadn't been choosing not to be together by leaving, or at least, if he had, he hadn't been the only one who chose it. But now was not the time. Soon.
"Warlock's parents," he said instead, "are contemplating divorce."
Crowley raised his hand, motioning for another drink. "And?"
"Well, it's likely some of their relationship issues are a direct result of the two of us raising their son to believe he might one day be in a position to destroy the world."
"That's nonsense," Crowley sneered. "People don't get divorced because their kid becomes an insufferable teenager with delusions of grandeur. That's basically all teenagers everywhere."
"Nevertheless, we had an effect on their lives. If nothing else, we owe it to Warlock, given we never really made amends for any problems we might have caused him by being wrong. I mean, he turned out to be a fairly normal young man, but you have to admit, we added some unconventional elements to his upbringing. So, we should do something to help them, and we can by making sure they don't do anything rash."
Crowley tilted his head in the way Aziraphale had long ago decided meant he was rolling his eyes behind his glasses. He ignored it and placed a pamphlet on the table between them beside the refreshed drink the server put down before leaving them alone again.
"The Downlings are taking a small vacation here. We're going to attend as well."
"Oh, are we?" he said, but he still leaned forward and picked up the pamphlet. "Building Bridges, your path back to each other." He made a gagging sound. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, very," Aziraphale said, sitting forward and taking the pamphlet from his hands to open it up. "It's a relationship retreat. The Dowlings are attending to try to solve the problems in their marriage. There are group sessions, individual exercises, and planned activities. The intention is to provide couples with the ability to work through difficult issues and communication problems that tend to arise between partners. You do so with other people who understand those difficulties, as they're experiencing similar ones themselves, all while facilitators help you see what you might be too close to see yourself."
"Yes, I read all that," Crowley said, pointing to the related paragraph. "Right here. Word for word."
"So, we need to attend. We'll be one of those other couples and help them see whatever's happening, it's not unsolvable."
Crowley laughed, a harsh, sharp sound. "You and me, in relationship counseling?"
"Yes."
"No. Absolutely no—" he cut himself off. "Actually, you know what? Yes."
"Yes?" Aziraphale perked up, smiling. He'd thought this was going to take more convincing than that.
"Yes." Crowley downed the new drink in one go and gave a hissing gasp. "Because I cannot wait to watch you try to get through one of these counseling sessions." He took the pamphlet back and stood. "This has the where and when?"
"On the last page," Aziraphale said. "We're already registered."
"Of course we are," Crowley muttered, and then left the bar without even a goodbye.
Aziraphale let him go, though watching him walk away without knowing for certain he was going to be at the retreat was more difficult than he'd expected. He had to take a moment, pressing his hands against the table, to keep himself from running after Crowley.
But Crowley said he would be there, and he really hadn't lied to Aziraphale as often as he seemed to think he had. No, Crowley would be at the retreat. They would help the Dowlings save their marriage. And while they did that, Aziraphale would find out what it was that kept Crowley from coming back with him to Heaven. Once they worked through that, they'd both go home together, and all would be well again.