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‘You could stay with me, if you like.’
As the bus approached, Aziraphale turned the words over in his mind like prayer beads, examining them from all sides, holding them like a blessing even as his own response, so hastily spoken, made him burn with regret.
When the bus stopped, the hiss of the brakes made Aziraphale jump, the sound too loud in their precious pocket of solitude. It would take them hours to get back to London this way, especially with his insistence that the existing passengers be dropped off in Oxford first, but neither of them had the energy to muster up a faster mode of transportation. It wouldn’t have been right anyway, there was too much to process and nothing resembling normal waiting for them to return.
Aziraphale followed Crowley onto the bus and when he chose a seat, he did so without checking what Aziraphale was planning to do. It would have been usual practice for Aziraphale to take the seat behind his, preserving the paper thin pretence that they did not know each other, but it seemed foolish to be so cautious now. Heaven and Hell had seen them stand side by side, defending the world that both sides had been so eager to destroy in their pursuit of victory. The least Aziraphale could do, he thought, was to choose to be beside Crowley again.
He slid into the seat beside his.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he asked as the doors of the bus closed, the engine rattling both the glass and their bones.
‘No,’ said Crowley, staring out of the window and sounding only half present, ‘Course not.’
The village of Tadfield, quaint, quiet and normal once again, began to slip away. If Aziraphale did not allow himself to think about how exhausted he felt, or why Crowley smelled like smoke, or how their thighs were pressed together, he could almost pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Just a day out coming to an end. Not that they had ever gone for day trips together but it would have been nice if they had. Maybe they could one day, if Hell and Heaven decided to let bygones be bygones and allow traitors to live. Aziraphale squirmed a little in his seat, wishing his mind had not taken him down that road so quickly.
It was probably his imagination but Crowley seemed to draw ever so slightly closer to him as they joined the motorway, his hand twitching as if he had thought he might move it over to where Aziraphale’s was resting. No, Aziraphale thought, he was being foolish. They were both tense, that was all. It was a strange thing to save the world and yet not feel entirely glad about it. Aziraphale risked a glance at Crowley who certainly did not look happy. They had done the right thing, of course they had, but the thought of what it was going to cost them cut deep. Aziraphale was wondering what he could say to express his feelings on all that had been and all that was coming when he remembered something, a conversation he had forgotten until that moment though it had only occurred a few short hours earlier. He cleared his throat.
‘Crowley, my dear, I really am terribly sorry for your loss.’
Crowley turned his head to look at him.
‘I’ll get over it, it was only a car.’
Even the way he said it made it clear that the Bentley was very much more than just a car but its fiery demise was not the one to which Aziraphale had been referring.
‘I meant your friend,’ he said, his voice heavy with sombre compassion, ‘When I found you, before I found a receptive body to inhabit, you told me you’d lost your best friend.’
Aziraphale could not be sure as Crowley’s eyes were completely shielded by his glasses but it felt as if he might have blinked.
‘I couldn’t see you,’ Aziraphale went on, ‘It was all so odd and staying with you in that form was jolly difficult. I wasn’t sure we had enough time but I realise now that I wasn’t terribly sympathetic. I’d like to make up for it now, if you’ll allow me.’
Crowley had such an strange expression on his face. Evidently he had no wish to be reminded of his friend’s demise or perhaps he simply did not want to discuss it while they were on a bus that smelled faintly of cider and sweat. Aziraphale should not have brought up the subject and was about to say so when Crowley spoke.
‘Who did you think I was talking about?’
‘I wasn’t sure,’ said Aziraphale, who certainly was not about to admit that he had been startled to hear Crowley calling someone his best friend, someone Aziraphale did not even know. Startled and hurt. ‘I assumed it was the person you were keeping company with in your flat when I called to tell you that I’d found Adam. I thought perhaps a human?’
It was the more palatable of the two available options.
‘A human?’ Crowley repeated, ‘Tell me, angel, when have I ever hung up on you for the sake of a human? For that matter, what would one be doing in my flat?’
‘I don’t presume to know more of your life than you tell me,’ said Aziraphale, slightly affronted.
It was just like Crowley to be deliberately obtuse when he was trying to be kind. He could just tell him who his best friend had been and allow Aziraphale to comfort him in his grief but instead he was looking at him like he was insane for even wanting to. It was enough to make Aziraphale want to fold his arms and draw a line under the conversation but then he remembered the terrible quaver in Crowley’s voice when he had told him of his loss. He had been so distraught. The barriers he had up now were just protecting him from feeling that again. Aziraphale should not be so quick to take it personally.
‘So, it was a demon then?’ he said, wishing to make it clear that he was open to mourning whoever it was, evil or not.
There was a tiny pause and then Crowley laughed, hard and bitter.
‘Since when have I been friends with fellow demons?’
‘Well, it can’t have been an angel,’ Aziraphale reasoned, running out of options.
‘Can’t it?’
These two words, softly spoken as they were, lodged deep inside Aziraphale’s chest and stayed there. Another angel. He had never, not in six thousand years, considered the possibility that Crowley might be communicating with any other being from Heaven.
‘Oh,’ he said, trying to push his churning mass of emotions back down from whence they came, ‘Right, yes, of course. Well, it must have been someone important or you wouldn’t have been so upset so I really am dreadfully sorry to hear that they…’
Crowley had not looked away from him and it was hard for Aziraphale to concentrate on his consoling speech while he was being speared with such intense focus.
‘It was someone very important,’ said Crowley, once Aziraphale had trailed off, ‘Someone I couldn’t live without.’
Aziraphale thought it just as well the bus turned sharply at this point, helping to disguise the pain that seared through him, threatening to double him over. He steadied himself on the seat in front. He supposed neither of them were likely to live very long but the very idea of Crowley choosing not to live made Aziraphale far too aware of the holy water he had passed over all those years ago.
‘It’s alright,’ said Crowley, perhaps reading more of Aziraphale’s thoughts than he had hoped, ‘Things weren’t as bad as I feared. I found him again.’
‘You found him?’
‘I found him, he found me. We found each other. Probably don’t have long to appreciate that fact before Heaven and Hell catch up but one last evening is a lot more than I thought we’d get.’
‘One last…’
Things were clicking into place, questions being answered and boxes ticked until Aziraphale could draw only one conclusion.
‘You mean…me? I’m your best friend?’
The truth of it shone in Crowley’s face for a moment before he shrugged.
‘Best by default, considering I only have the one.’
Aziraphale was hardly listening. He had thought himself a being of love before but he had never been filled with love like this, light and fierce and powerful enough to reach every part of the universe.
‘I’m your best friend,’ he said, savouring the words, wanting to hear them spoken again and again.
‘Yes, angel,’ said Crowley, with the resigned tone of someone who had not realised such a thing was a secret, ‘Who else could I possibly have…?’
But Aziraphale talked over him.
‘You didn’t want to live without me?’
Crowley hesitated and then shook his head.
‘I wasn’t planning to, didn’t think I was going to have to. Not for long anyway.’
Aziraphale thought about what might be coming for them, how neither of them knew what each side would do with the other. Crowley was right, they might only have one more evening. If there was a time to be reckless with the truth, it was now.
‘You’re my best friend too,’ Aziraphale said, his face flushing a delicate pink, ‘I would never choose to leave you.’
It was so hard to get his hand to move, even harder to place it down over Crowley’s and keep it there. Crowley glanced down then back up again. His mouth opened but no words came out. He swallowed and tried again.
‘Not leaving you either, angel,’ he said, hoarsely, ‘Not without a fight at any rate.’
Aziraphale did not want to but he looked away, best not to let Crowley see the tears shining in his eyes. Best to pretend he had not seen the raw emotion in Crowley’s expression either. He kept his hand where it was though until Crowley moved his, twining their fingers together and holding on tight.
They stayed that way for the duration of the journey. The bus jostled them together, shoulders bumping, but Aziraphale did not mind. He would have been happy for the bus to keep on going, taking them right through to face whatever needed to be faced, but at last the lights of London were all around them and one decision still needed to be made.
‘Does your offer still stand?’ Aziraphale asked, hoping Crowley would not think him presumptuous, ‘Because if it does, I would very much like to stay with you tonight.’
Even when he counted standing up to Gabriel and Beelzebub, it felt like the most daring thing he had ever said.
‘Sure,’ said Crowley, ‘Whatever you want, angel.’
Crowley might have succeeded in convincing Aziraphale that he felt as casual about this as he sounded had he not squeezed Aziraphale’s hand at the same time. When the dark window reflected Crowley’s smile back to him, Aziraphale felt the light inside him grow brighter still.
Best friend.
Now that was something worth living for.