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Aziraphale hadn’t known about the plants. He’d never before been to Crowley’s flat, so it was an understandable lack of knowledge. Now, as he stood in the doorway of Crowley’s greenhouse, he smiled to himself. Of course his dear boy would have a veritable Garden of Eden in his home. Crowley was, despite his protestations, kind, caring, and dedicated. Aziraphale had seen the way kids flocked to the demon throughout the centuries, and Crowley never failed to care for them however he was able. Why should he be any less nurturing with his plants? And they were delightfully beautiful plants, too. Their leaves were lush and vibrant, their perfumes divine (no pun intended) to Aziraphale’s senses, and if they happened to shake when the angel walked in, well, he simply chalked that up excitement for another being admiring them.
“You are just lovely!” he told a particularly impressive fern. “Crowley must be so proud!”
He started, remembering suddenly why he was here in the first place. He needed to find Crowley and tell him of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies. Oh, damn his wandering mind! The demon had sounded quite distraught over the telephone, and now he seemed to be avoiding Aziraphale, even though the angel had come straight to his flat. Luckily the door had been open, or else Aziraphale might not have been able to come in at all- wait . Aziraphale let out a soft gasp. If Crowley wasn’t at home, but the door was open, someone must have broken in. There was certainly lots of fancy furniture to take, but no human would have been able to enter Crowley’s flat. The demon had wards up against any mortals. So that left an ethereal or occult being. Aziraphale wasn’t sure which was worse. His mind was already whirring ahead. Why would an immortal being break into Crowley’s flat? They had no need for physical items, and the plants seemed untouched. What did Crowley have that could be valuable to heaven or hell?
“Oh no,” Aziraphale breathed. The holy water. Somehow, one of their sides must have found out about the holy water. He raced out of the greenhouse and spun around in the main living room. He’d meant to search the whole apartment for Crowley before the plants had distracted him, but there was no time for that now. If the intruder were still here, Aziraphale needed to stop them before they had a weapon that could kill Crowley. Where would Crowley have put the holy water? His eyes darted about. There! One of the doors was slightly ajar. He rushed towards it, focusing his Grace on a back-burnered miracle, just in case, pushed open the door fully, and stopped dead in his tracks.
There was a puddle on Crowley’s impeccably clean floor. It wasn’t water, that much would have been obvious even to a human. Aziraphale could tell instantly that the murky pool of liquid was the remains of a demon touched by holy water. He’d seen the sight before, in his earliest days as a heavenly soldier, and even then had thought it a cruel fate for any being. But this- this was so much worse. Aziraphale felt sure that these particular remains were Crowley’s.
He felt as though someone had plunged his entire corporation into icy water. Distantly, he knew that his legs had buckled and he had fallen to his knees. Everything blurred, and it took Aziraphale a minute to realize he was crying.
“Oh God, oh someone, no…” he choked out.
When had it happened? Just after Crowley had hung up the telephone? Or had he been just a moment too late, the demon dying right as Aziraphale came through the front door? It was all his fault. The guilt and grief combined into a wave that threatened to drown him. Why had he ever agreed to give Crowley holy water? Had another angel or demon murdered him with the very weapon Aziraphale had procured? Or had Crowley done it himself? Aziraphale couldn’t help playing the scene in his mind. His words from earlier, his rejection of Crowley, driving the demon to end his life. He let out a strangled kind of whimper.
The puddle that used to be his- what? His friend, he finally admitted to himself. Crowley was his friend, his only friend, his best friend. He’d tried so hard to keep his distance, emotionally, but Crowley had long been the one person he truly cared about.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, reaching a finger out to touch the puddle. “I- I should have- I should have gone with you. To Alpha Centauri. To anywhere. I would have gone anywhere with you, if- if it meant- oh.” He choked on the rest of his words. His corporation made another awful, helpless noise, and he struggled to take a breath he knew he didn’t even need. Even now, when it was too late and Crowley was gone, he couldn’t even bring himself to say the truth. What a coward he was. He forced air into his lungs and tried again to speak.
“You- you should have known-” No, that wasn’t right. Be honest. “I should have to-told you,” he managed. “that I love you.” He sniffed, a horrible, ugly sound that nearly covered up the noise behind him.
“Nghk.”
Aziraphale froze. There was only one being who made a sound like that- too many consonants mangled together. Slowly, so slowly, he turned his head to face the source.
Crowley stood there, of course. He looked the same as he had earlier that day, sans the dark glasses he usually wore. Only his expression was new. Too many emotions on his face for Aziraphale to read. Confusion, shock, and something else. The angel stared for a moment, eyes wide, then flung himself into Crowley's chest, knocking them both to the ground.
“Oof!” Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s exhale against his hair. The demon felt solid, real, alive. The skin of his neck, where Aziraphale buried his face, was warmer than usual and tingly, as though Crowley were a live wire of electricity. He might as well be, for all that Aziraphale’s pulse raced when he touched him.
Crowley’s arms came up to hold him, belatedly. He held him carefully, as though Aziraphale would run away any second.
“Angel- why are you- are you okay?” His breath rustled Aziraphale’s curls. Aziraphale inhaled Crowley’s scent- spicy, clean, and just a bit earthy ( that must be from the plants , his mind supplied).
“I thought you were gone,” he murmured, the words slightly muffled.
“Hngh?” Crowley responded. Then, “Ah, yeah.”
Aziraphale pulled back from him reluctantly, so he could see Crowley’s face. He wiped away a few tears and pursed his lips together.
“Care to explain?” he asked, the pointed tone he intended not quite winning out over his affection.
Crowley ran a long fingered hand through his hair. He glanced away, then fixed those golden eyes back on Aziraphale. He was so beautiful. Why hadn’t Aziraphale ever told him so before? He’d almost lost the chance forever.
“A couple of demons paid me a visit,” Crowley muttered. “I… took care of them.” He jutted his chin towards the puddle on the floor.
Aziraphale felt his throat tighten again.
“Oh, but that was so dangerous, Crowley!” he said. “If any had spilled on you-” He squeezed his eyes shut, briefly, shaking away the mental image.
Crowley grabbed his arm.
“Angel, I’m fine,” he said. “All ’cause of the holy water. It saved me, ’Ziraphale. You saved me.” His golden eyes shone like stars as he looked at the angel.
“I love you,” Aziraphale blurted. He covered his mouth immediately. Crowley’s mouth hung open slightly.
Aziraphale took his hands away and laughed softly. He could never have imagined how wonderful it would be to tell Crowley the truth, face to face.
“I love you,” he said again, high off of his relief and beginning to ramble. “I should have told you ages ago, and when I saw the holy water I thought you were gone and I’d never have the chance, and it just was so terrible thinking that you’d never know, or, or think I meant any of what I said earlier about not liking you, or not being on our side, I’ve always been on our side, I-”
This time, it was Crowley who pulled Aziraphale into a crushing hug. Aziraphale peppered kisses into his soft hair and against his cheeks. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you. I love you.”
When they finally pulled apart. Aziraphale kept Crowley’s hands in his, beaming.
“I know how we can stop the end of the world,” he said. “Together. If you’ll join me.”
Crowley smirked, though it was far more tender than usual. “Always, angel.” He stood up, helping Aziraphale to his feet as well. “I love you too, after all.”