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It had been six long months since Aziraphale had left him, shattering Crowley's heart into a million pieces.
For the first week, Crowley clung to a flicker of hope that Aziraphale would come to his senses, realize that Heaven was as much a mess as Hell, and return, begging for forgiveness. Crowley wasn't about to make it easy for him, though; he envisioned an elaborate dance of apologies and reconciliation. But as the days wore on, his hope dwindled, and he spiraled into a pit of self-pity. He wandered aimlessly around the bookshop, filling his time with irritating/ training sessions with Muriel and futile attempts to get to know the celestial youngster.
This routine continued for three painstaking months, punctuated only by occasional visits from Nina and Meggie, who tried their best to lift his spirits. They insisted that Aziraphale's actions were a glaring red flag and advised Crowley to cut ties if the angel ever returned. But Crowley didn't want to hear it; he yearned for his angel's return.
As time passed, Crowley began to see things from Aziraphale's perspective. If the angel were narrating this story, Crowley would undoubtedly be painted as the red flag (a point he'd argued vehemently with the humans, who eventually conceded). So, he resolved to work on self-improvement and started researching healthier communication methods. Simultaneously, he embarked on a quest for a peaceful countryside retreat, envisioning a cottage with a garden.
Now, six months later, he stood in his garden, fervently urging his tomatoes to grow better when he sensed a familiar presence returning to Earth. Aziraphale was back.
---
On the other side of the celestial divide, it had been half a year since Aziraphale left Earth. He missed the place, almost as much as he missed the ginger-haired demon. After his stint in Heaven (which, he noted, wasn't all that bad, just terribly dull, and resulted in a demotion back to Principality), Aziraphale had a newfound appreciation for Earth's quirks and charm.
You might be wondering what had brought the angel back. He had indeed stopped the Second Coming and hidden the Book of Life, two rather thrilling stories for another time. What mattered now was finding his beloved demon and mending what he'd broken. Aziraphale knew that blame lay on both sides and poor communication, but he felt he was more in the wrong this time.
So he ventured to the familiar bookshop, knowing from Muriel's reports that Crowley occasionally showed up. The bell above the door chimed as he entered.
"Hello, Muriel, are you here?" he called, shifting nervously. The youthful angel's head popped out from behind one of the bookshelves.
"Oh, Mr. Aziraphale, you're back!" Muriel exclaimed in a single breath. "You look stressed. Is everything alright? I promise I didn't sell any of your books. Mr. Crowley made it abundantly clear I shouldn't even think about it. And, if you're back, does that mean I'm being recalled to Heaven?"
Aziraphale smiled reassuringly. "Well, I'm feeling a bit stressed and rather worried because I need to track down Crowley and make things right, maybe plead a little for his forgiveness. But don't you worry, dear, there's no recall order for you or anything like that."
Muriel beamed back at him. "That's a relief!"
---
Back at the cottage, it had been two hours since Crowley sensed Aziraphale's return. He was lost in thoughts about their next encounter when the distinct roar of a motorbike shattered his reverie. The cottage, nestled at the end of a quiet road, rarely saw visitors.
Crowley peered out to the drive way (he was sitting on the front porch) and saw a biker clad in brown, astride a vintage yellow motorbike, park next his Bentley. The biker's graceful dismount hinted at considerable skill. As the figure drew closer, Crowley prepared himself for the unveiling.
In one swift motion, the helmet came off, revealing none other than Aziraphale. The angel wore leather and sported a beard, but there was no mistaking him.
"I'm really sorry, Crowley," Aziraphale blurted out as soon as their eyes met. "You were right, Heaven's a real mess, and I couldn't do a thing about it. I'm sorry for not listening, for going along with Metatron, for ever thinking you could become an angel again. But, you know what? You're perfect just the way you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to catch on, to understand what you were saying. I'm just really, really sorry..." Aziraphale's voice quivered as he spoke, and then he dissolved into tears.
Crowley, caught off guard and unsure of how to react, managed to stammer, "Duck."
"Huh?" Aziraphale's voice teetered on the edge of hysteria.
"You've got those angel and demon duck stickers on your helmet," Crowley pointed out. This revelation pushed Aziraphale over the edge, and he threw himself at Crowley, laughing and crying simultaneously. They miraculously managed to stay upright, with Crowley's chair barely escaping an awkward tumble.
Amid their shared laughter, Aziraphale leaned in and whispered into Crowley's ear, "I hid the Book of Life in a cookie jar somewhere."
"You what?"
"I hid the Book of Life in a cookie jar."
Crowley burst into laughter this time. Only Aziraphale would come up with such a notion.
As they continued hugging, occasionally bursting into laughter, several minutes slipped by. Finally, Crowley leaned in and whispered, "I forgive you." Aziraphale's eyes welled up with tears as he heard those words. He pulled back slightly, looking into the demon's eyes, his own filled with a mixture of relief and joy.
"You do?" Aziraphale asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
Crowley nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Yeah, angel, I do."
Aziraphale's smile mirrored Crowley's, and he wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. "Thank you, my dear."
Crowley chuckled, his fingers brushing Aziraphale's bearded cheek. "Don't mention it. Now, I have some questions about the leather and who's motorbike you're riding, also the beard..."
"Well," Aziraphale began, "technically, I've been wearing some leather elements for centuries. As for the motorbike, it's mine. And this beard," he stroked it thoughtfully, "well, I thought it might make me look more serious."
Crowley couldn't help but chuckle at Aziraphale's explanation. They had plenty of catching up to do, but for now, forgiveness and laughter filled the air between them.