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Aziraphale was worried when Crowley suggested that dinner take place at the flat instead of in a restaurant. He feared that Crowley had uncovered some information and didn't want to make a scene in a public place, as was prone to happening so much in the past. Despite his apprehension, Aziraphale put on a brave face when Adam and Warlock arrived. Just like last time, Adam was polite, and Warlock was standoffish.
Feeling like a poor peace offering, Aziraphale had baked the dessert himself instead of letting the hired chef do it. He had hesitated to cook or bake anything up until now because Michael always complained about it–always listing the faults of anything he made.
Dinner passed without incident, but things took a turn for the worse during dessert when Warlock outright refused to eat it, saying he had "reached his limit."
There was an awkward silence before Crowley tried to change the subject, probably knowing things were about to go pear-shaped. Aziraphale was grateful for his effort, but a cold, tar-like weight twisted in his gut. Instead, Crowley continued complimenting Aziraphale on his baking skills. “Seriously, angel, this is top-notch stuff. The custard was especially delicious.”
Aziraphale blushed and smiled at him. “Thank you, my dear. I haven’t baked in quite some time, but I’m glad it’s a skill that hasn’t gone to waste.”
“And what a hidden skill,” Crowley drawled with a proud smirk.
Warlock didn’t waste the opportunity, not for a second. “There’s loads more he's hiding apparently..."
Crowley hissed out a warning, and Adam visibly kicked Warlock under the table. Warlock, however, was not deterred. “Grandfather was right, you obviously have no idea who this guy really is.”
Crowley tried to shut him up again, but Aziraphale, feeling small in his seat, stayed to hear what Warlock had to say. In fact, Aziraphale may have even encouraged him when he asked, “And who do you think I really am?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Warlock snapped.
“ Warlock !” Both Adam and Crowley exclaimed in unison. Crowley growled and leaned over the table as if he was about to launch himself across it. “Warlock, that was out of line. Apologize to Aziraphale now ."
"Why should I? He's hiding things from us, and I think we deserve to know the truth."
Aziraphale nodded slowly, though he couldn’t agree that Warlock necessarily deserved to know. Still, being as honest and forthright as possible was probably for the best. "I'm not hiding anything, I assure you."
Warlock scoffed. "That's not what I've been told. Luke told me about your past, about your real name, and the fact that you stole money from your family and ran away. A very rich family. And now you’re probably plotting a way to steal from my uncle too. You’ve done it loads of times already with your ex-partner, Michael whatever-his name is!"
Crowley shot up from his seat so fast that his chair toppled backward with a crash, but Aziraphale snatched his sleeve and tugged. “Crowley, please .”
“I can’t believe you, Warlock. This is none of your business. Aziraphale’s past is his own. If he ever wants to discuss it, then I will be there to listen, but not a moment sooner.”
Aziraphale’s heart clenched, and his eyes filled with unshed tears. This was why he loved him. This love between them was right, it was pure. It was on good foundations, but now Aziraphale’s past threatened to rot them from within.
“I think,” Aziraphale admitted softly, “It’s time to talk about it.”
Crowley snapped his gaze down to Aziraphale and shook his head. “No, angel, not like this. I won’t let anyone force you–“
“Please, Crowley,” he whispered, and then added a pout as well. “Please sit. Let’s just get it all out in the open.”
Reluctantly, Crowley caved and righted his chair, bringing it closer to Aziraphale so that their shoulders touched. He appreciated the contact, but he wondered if Crowley would leave his side once he had all the facts. He didn’t deserve Crowley, but Aziraphale was not going to let him go, not willingly. This was the happiest he’d ever been, and he could not, would not , lose his, very likely, last chance at happiness. Crowley was worth fighting for, not just because he’d saved Aziraphale from the streets, from starvation and decreasing health, but because Crowley deserved to be happy too, and right now, that meant having Aziraphale in his life.
His angel would go nowhere and everywhere if only Crowley would ask.
Warlock crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "What’s your real name?”
“Aziraphale Fell,” he replied with no hesitation. But Warlock only pointed an accusing finger and barked out a bitter laugh.
“Liar. It’s Raphael Gates.”
Aziraphale flinched at being called by that name once again. “Do not call me that,” he said softly but firmly. It was a tone he only used for his rudest customers, which worked its cold magic every single time.
It was Warlock’s turn to flinch as he dropped his hand. “What?”
Adam buried his face in his hands, as if he knew the evening was entirely lost.
Aziraphale swallowed and met his gaze. “I legally changed my name when I became a United States citizen." He sighed and set his eyes on the empty plate before him. “You are correct about my family being wealthy–though they have not been family to me even when I lived with them. Old money, old ways of thinking, and old ways of dealing punishments for being…” he motioned between himself and Crowley, “who I am.”
Crowley took the opportunity to grab his hand and squeeze it. He didn’t let go and Crowley took it a step further and entwined their fingers. It was a silent promise that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. These things would change nothing.
So Aziraphale decided to continue. “My family had very different plans for me. Plans that involved conversion therapy and an arranged marriage to a woman. I was beaten and threatened. I was sixteen years old and scared. So, yes, I stole from them the first chance I got and ran away. Changing my name was and still is one of the best decisions of my life. I was never the person they wanted me to be. So, I politely ask that you call me Aziraphale or Mr. Fell. The choice is yours.”
He finally looked up only to find Warlock had gone very pale and stiff, reaching for his water and nearly drinking the entire thing in one go. When he was done, he continued to stare at his glass and asked, “What about the white-collar crime with your ex-partner?"
Aziraphale shrugged. ”My ex-partner was the one involved in those crimes, and I was a victim of his actions. He left me destitute. I was homeless for six years before I met your uncle. I don’t even know what’s happened with the case in all this time. I was surprised I could open a bank account and get a credit card."
Crowley cleared his throat and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Don’t worry about that stuff, angel.”
Aziraphale stared at him with suspicion. “I see.” He arched a brow at him and gave him a look that said they would talk about that later.
Crowley blushed and shifted again. “You need to focus on healing. If I could get you to quit the shop and stay home all day reading and baking, I would.”
Aziraphale chuckled when suddenly, Warlock shot up from his seat and left the dining room. They all heard the front door open and then slam shut. “Oh, dear,” Aziraphale whispered.
Adam finally surfaced from his hands with a long inhale and red-rimmed eyes. “I am so sorry, Aziraphale,” he said. He smiled weakly and reached across the table.
A little confused, Aziraphale took his hand. Adam’s grip tightened before giving it a shake and letting go. “Please come to the wedding if I don’t murder my fiancé before then.” Without giving them a chance to speak, Adam stood, bid them good night, and made his way out, a lot calmer than Warlock’s exit.
Aziraphale deflated in his chair, and the pressure in his back released so suddenly it was almost unbearable. He groaned in a mixture of pain and relief. It was over. For now. He wasn’t sure what Warlock’s abrupt exit meant exactly, but at least the whole of it was out in the open.
He felt wrung out, completely drained emotionally and physically, and for some reason his heart was going too fast.
“Angel, you okay? That was a lot. You’re so fucking brave, Aziraphale.”
Aziraphale let out a breathy, hysterical laugh. “I don’t know about that–“
“He had no right to push you, that little bastard.” Crowley sent a glare in the direction of where Warlock had been seated. “After everything I’ve done for him–“
“Crowley, love,” Aziraphale took a breath to try and steady his still rapid pulse. “From the outside, this, us,” he waved between them, “makes no sense.”
Crowley went still and his besotted grin dropped. “What do you mean?”
Aziraphale leveled him with a look. “You know exactly what I mean,” he replied drily. “I hardly blame your nephew for his lack of trust. Who would believe that a dirty vagabond who lost his fortune and a past of thievery would catch the eye of a multi-millionaire with only pure intentions? Even if someone believed it, they’d still balk at us.” He laughed bitterly, lost in his musings about how they looked as a couple. “No one in their right mind would think this could work between us for long.”
He didn’t notice the heavy silence at first.
“Right,” said Crowley. Something in his tone made Aziraphale grow cold. He looked at his lover and knew instantly he'd said something wrong. Crowley’s blank, shuttered expression stabbed him in the heart repeatedly.
“Wait,” Aziraphale said, not knowing what else to say.
“No, no, I get it.” Crowley’s lips turned up but his smile was anything but warm. “You don’t think it’s going to work out between us.”
“No, that’s not–“
“You just stick around for the perks, then?”
“No! Crowley!” Oh, this is bad. This is terrible. “Not at all! You know that!”
Crowley shrugged and frowned. “Tell me then. Why stay?”
Aziraphale desperately reached out for Crowley’s hand, who by some kindness, allowed it. “Because I love you!”
Closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath, Crowley nodded slowly and finally met Aziraphale’s gaze with determination in his eyes. “I believe you, but you know what I really think? I think you’re expecting me to someday grow tired of you and kick you out on your arse like that other bloke did. I’m not that guy, Aziraphale.”
“Oh, Crowley, I know that…”
“You know it but you don’t believe it.”
Aziraphale stayed silent. What could he say? Crowley was essentially right. He looked at Crowley’s limp hand in his and chewed on his lip. “It’s not–“ he began to whisper and stopped short. The It’s Not You, It’s Me line was probably not a good one to use at the moment, however true it was. “You might be right,” Aziraphale finally admitted. He didn’t know he’d been caressing Crowley’s hand until his lover finally entwined their fingers again. He let out a small breath of relief at the gesture.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley started and looked away, “I want us to go to therapy. Together. And… and… I want you to have your own sessions too.” Aziraphale stared at him, wide-eyed as he held his breath. Crowley swallowed audibly, and when next he spoke, there was a tremble in his determined voice. “If you refuse, then I’m afraid… I don’t want… This probably won’t work out–and I want this to work out! I know we can–“
Aziraphale threw his arms around his lover. “Yes,” he rasped, so dangerously close to sobbing. He wiped his silent tears away on his own sleeve before tightening his hold. “I’ll do it.”
Crowley let out a suspiciously wet chuckle. “That easy?”
“Of course,” Aziraphale whispered and shut his eyes hard, willing his voice not to break. “I love you. And I want this to work. I know my, um, insecurities are a- a problem. And this is the only thing you’ve ever asked of me, so, of course. Of course.”
Crowley hugged him back tightly, his own tears falling freely. "Thank you," he whispered into Aziraphale's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn't believe it had taken something as drastic as tonight's events for him to finally express his true concerns. But it felt right. It was hard and did quite a number on Aziraphale’s poor heart, but the world had not ended, and Aziraphale felt stronger for it. "I love you too," Crowley continued, rubbing soothing circles on Aziraphale’s back. "And I'm so sorry for everything that's happened tonight. I never wanted to hurt you, and I never wanted you to feel like you had to hide anything from me."
Aziraphale sniffled and pulled back to look into the mismatched eyes of the man he was in love with. "It's not your fault," he said, his voice still thick with emotion. "I should have told you about my past a long time ago. I was just so scared that you would see me differently, or worse, that you would leave me."
Crowley shook his head and brushed away Aziraphale's tears with his thumbs. "I would never leave you, Aziraphale. I’m too selfish to let you go without a fight. And I promise you, no matter what, I will always be here for you… even if… well, even if things don’t work out the way we hope. I’d never just up and leave you like that."
Aziraphale smiled through his tears and leaned in to kiss Crowley. As their lips met, he felt a sense of hope for their future together. He knew that they had a lot of work to do, but they were both determined to put in the effort.
“And by the way,” Crowley said with a mischievous smile, “you weren’t a dirty vagabond. Just a dusty one.”
Aziraphale let out a wet laugh. “Demon.”
“But your demon.”
“Yes,” Aziraphale blushed and sniffled, “just as I am yours.”