It was a nice day [ineffable husbands fic]

The return

It wasn't a nice day.

Well actually it wasn't even day at all, it was night, and rain was pouring. But beside that, none of the days recently had been nice, not to Crowley anyways. A few years ago he'd sat on a bench, talking to Shax. Demanding to know the point of it all. Why have sides, why have angels, or demons, what was the point? It all felt useless. At least he had Aziraphale. The fussy Angel who'd made a crash course- almost quite literally- into his life and planted himself there quite firmly.
Aziraphale at least gave him stuff to do, errands like "Crowley if you're bored be a dear and go pick up the pastries I'd ordered from the bakery" or planning activities like "I got us tickets to go see a performance of Twelfth Night. You did say you liked Shakespeares comedies." Either way Aziraphale seemed to consume his time and attention and made for an easy distraction from the fact that he seemed to have no point otherwise.
But now even that was gone, and if Crowley really thought about it- he hadn't, and he wouldn't, because that would involve him actually needing to process what had happened and accept the events were real- then he would realize that his behavior was taking a turn for the worse and Aziraphale leaving was the reason why.
He'd started tempting again, he'd made other peoples lives miserable. He slept with married men and women, he'd tempt strangers into petty arguments in the street that would later ruin friendships, he'd even gone as far as to glue pennies to sidewalks again- he'd been very bored that afternoon- and all and all did things he knew Aziraphale wouldn't approve of. He almost went as far as to feed bread to ducks before realizing that perhaps that was going a bit far. The ducks didn't ruin his life after all. But why did it matter? Heaven hadn't come down and told him to stop, why would they?
Now however, Crowley was in a pub, drinking himself into delirium. It wasn't the dirty donkey, no, because Crowley carefully avoided that block of London and soho in general. The pub he was in now was some dirty hole in the wall, and Crowley planned on getting absolutely sloshed before collapsing in a bush somewhere. Despite having his flat back he'd been collapsing into bushes often lately.
A man walked into the pub and Crowley eyed him, curly blonde hair, rather soft and round, but no... the eyes were off. Instead of the icy grey he had started to love so- no no no he did not love those eyes no matter how much he spent his time before (He'd started counting time as before and after the kiss.) staring at them. Anyways, the eyes were blue, not grey. Shame. He'd tempt the man into bed anyways, surely the man was married so maybe it would ruin a marriage. Or maybe he wouldn't. His head started pounding and he stopped having the motivation to miracle away the drunkness and hangovers ages ago. But his eyes didn't leave the man, who looked around the pub as if searching for someone. The man's eyes glossed over him, scanned the rest of the pub, and then turned to the bar, conversing with the bar tender for a moment. Crowley pushed his glass away, folded his arms on the table, and pillowed his head on them as he stared out the window. He barely registered when the man walked over to his table carrying two glasses, and sat down.
The man stated silent for a moment, before he cleared his throat and set a glass before Crowley. It was the clink of glass that alerted the demon to the man's presence. He looked at the glass and carefully avoided the strangers face.
"It's water, Crowley. I need to talk and I don't think this conversation will go well if you're drunk." The man said.
"How'd'you'know'm'name" it came out as one long slurred word and Crowley groaned and shielded his face from the light.
"Crowley... It's Aziraphale. I need to talk."
Crowley whined, "m'no. You're not 'zirafail he left me after the..." Crowley cut off and sniffed.
The man sighed, "I assure you I am Aziraphale. Please just sober up I need to speak with you."
"M'sorry not 'zirafell but I'm a human an we sober up normally." Crowley huffed, still buried in his arms shielding his face from the lights.
"Crowley please." The man said more incessantly, pushing the glass more towards him. With a groan, Crowley drank the glass of water, forcing the alcohol from his system as he did so. When his vision cleared he looked at the man in front of him. It was indeed Aziraphale. He growled at his old friend.
"What d'you want." He spat.
Aziraphale's gaze saddened, "I need your help."
Crowley shook his head, "ok. I don't care. Why don't you get your Angel friends to help you?" He for up from the table and walked towards the door. Aziraphale shoved his way out of his chair and followed, "Crowley please!" He raced to keep up with the lanky legged demon as he spoke. "I know we left off on the wrong foot, but I can't trust anyone else with this job. I need you. Not some angels who've been left in my charge." Crowley huffed.
"Go away." He said, continuing down the street.
"Please. Crowley we can put everything that happened behind us. We can forget what happened before I left. We can work together again, no heaven involved, you can be a demon I don't care I- Crowley!"
Crowley had pushed him against a wall, Aziraphale was reminded of the time in tadfield manor, but Crowley, gripping Aziraphale's lapels tightly, was reminded of the kiss.
"Forget it?" He hissed, "You think I want to forget what happened? Just start over like you didn't break my-" He set Aziraphale down and shook his head. "I'm not interested. You made your choice, now respect mine." Aziraphale was breathing hard, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Armageddon." He called out. "They're planning another Armageddon."
Crowley nodded, slowing down slightly. "Figured that out, have you?" He replied lazily.
"Figured it out- did you know?"
Crowley spun on his heels, "Course I did. I told you that, after we risked our lives to save each other? Perhaps if you want to just forget about everything that happened you've just wiped it from your own memory. But I told you. They're giving us breathing room before the big one." Aziraphale looked at his feet, fidgeting with his hands.
"Also, meant to tell you this before... well." Crowley shook his head, "I went to heaven, on the night the bookshop was attacked. Gabriel got cast out of heaven because he didn't want a second Armageddon."
Aziraphale nodded, "Yes I learned that. I've been trying to put it off, find some excuses to avoid it, I've been able to hold it off until now but they're getting antsy. I need your help." He was back to pleading.
Crowley crossed his arms and tilted his head up, "I'm not going to help you, just so you can go back to your side when all is said and done." He chided.
Aziraphale seemed to have a mental battle with himself. "I- it can be our side again. Just us. On earth, together. No angels no demons we can just be us. I promise." He cried after a while.
"I never said I wanted our side. Not again." Crowley responded. When Aziraphale nodded with a small choked sob, Crowley continued, "however, I didn't say I wouldn't help you." He held out his hand. Aziraphale looked up and raced forward to take it. Crowley pulled him forward, not in an embrace, but he whispered in the Angel's ear, "By the way, I expect a whole damn apology Broadway musical after this."
Aziraphale released a chuckle mixed with tears, "of course."