Chapter Text
Dying was not what Crowley expected it to be. He’d expected more lights and sound and… just more. Instead it was like he blinked and everything was different while nothing was different at all.
He was still sitting in the Bentley even though he knew… something had happened. There was a lot of sounds and movement outside the car windows, but they were hard to focus on. Aziraphale was still in the passenger seat beside him exactly where he’d been before, but now he was weeping even though he was obviously trying to keep a stiff upper lip.
Crowley breathed - that he still sort of felt the need to was an oddity he’d examine later; right now his mate had silent tears streaming down his cheeks and he couldn’t have that.
“Well,” Crowley said, “that was a thing.”
The sudden deaths were typically the hardest. Aziraphale had never liked them, and he found he liked them even less when it was his beloved’s body being left behind. He knew the other driver was fine - was rather annoyed by that, frankly - but Crowley had gone with an instant snap. His poor car was damaged in reality, the radio still playing in fits and spurts, but it was quiet for them. “Yes,” he agreed quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”
“Maybe a little,” Crowley agreed with a half-smile. “Bit anticlimactic, though. Dunno what all the fuss is about.”
“Well, some have a bit more of a… a poor experience. Your neck was snapped too quickly for you to feel a thing.” Aziraphale left one hand on Crowley’s thigh, the other dashing away the tears. He couldn’t smell Crowley anymore. Only what he could get from the tie in his breast pocket. “Besides, this is only the start. What’s next for you… I’m sure it’ll make up for it. It must do.”
“O-oh.” Crowley’s hand went to his neck, but it felt just fine. How odd. “Not sure if I’m glad it was quick or not.”
“I am.” Glad, too, that his distraction had worked. Simple as it had been, he hadn't wanted Crowley to see it coming. Aziraphale sighed, looking out the windscreen. They weren’t in London any longer, the world far behind as they hurtled through the stars. It almost could’ve been romantic, but he had to shake his head. “We… We’ll need to speak with my employer about your borrowed time. I’m sure if I give up what I’ve accumulated, it’ll make up for yours and you’ll be able to carry on as you should.”
“Oh… Oh.” That was right, he’d almost forgot. “Good. I want to give him… them… it… whatever, a piece of my mind anyway.”
“Crowley, you mustn’t!” Aziraphale protested. “You’ve nothing to be upset at him over anyway. You chose this.”
“Don’t worry, angel,” Crowley said and leaned over to kiss his forehead, finding Aziraphale warm. He was still warm. “What can he do to me? I’m already dead.”
“I know you are.” Aziraphale briefly closed his eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, pull over. He’ll be wherever we end up, I assure you.”
“Really?” That seemed unlikely but so far the entire last two weeks had been unlikely and here he was. Crowley was still dubious; however, he did his best to pull the Bentley off to the side… whatever that meant in this sea of darkness and cut the engine.
When he stepped out, he’d expected to be in space or wherever they were, floating maybe? But instead he stepped right into what appeared to be an office. It was a nice office, all things considered, with a large dark wood desk and shelves covering all four walls. There was a plethora of books but also scrolls, various skulls, and even what looked to be a few geological specimens on those shelves, and above was a domed skylight perfectly split between the brightest morning and the deepest night. It was incredibly unsettling.
The… being behind the desk was the most unsettling of all. Dark robes, skeletal hands laced under an equally as skeletal skull. Twin pinpricks of orange light glowed in the skull’s eye sockets and Crowley had the distinct impression that they were watching him.
Well, never let it be said that Anthony J. Crowley was ever intimidated by anything, up to and including the Grim Reaper himself. Crowley marched right up to the imposing desk, only vaguely hearing the shuffling of feet behind him, and lifted his chin. “I’m here to apply to be one of your guides.”
“I DON’T TAKE APPLICATIONS,” Death replied, and his gaze shifted to Aziraphale. “WORKING OVERTIME, AZIRAPHALE?”
He shifted foot to foot, then stood straight and clasped his hands behind his back to fidget there. “I… I’m terribly sorry. I… Lost my head a bit, I think.”
Crowley stepped in front of him. “How’s someone supposed to become a guide, then?”
“Oh, Crowley, please don’t make this more difficult,” Aziraphale urged, laying a hand on his arm.
“I’m just asking a question. Can’t get in trouble for that.” Which was extremely untrue, as he’d gotten into plenty of trouble for asking questions in school.
Aziraphale knew it was untrue as well, sighing at him. “I’m very sorry about him, sir. He’s… stubborn and-and wily and wicked and-”
“IT ALMOST SOUNDS AS IF YOU LIKE HIM.”
“Oh…” His head ducked, but he did shift closer to Crowley. “I realise I was derelict in my duties-”
“YET YOU STILL COME SEEKING A FAVOUR.”
“Not seeking any kind of favour,” Crowley grumbled under his breath. He marched closer and didn’t quite slam both hands on Death’s impressive desk. “I’m not going bloody anywhere, so you might as well give me the job or let me go my own way.”
“I COULD SEND YOU TOWARDS YOUR NEXT STEP WITH LESS THAN A THOUGHT,” he replied lightly, one of his bony fingers lifting to mime a simple flick.
“Oh, please don’t be upset with him.” Aziraphale tugged at his waistcoat, his worry nearly tangible. “I know what we did - what I did - was wrong, but… I-I’ll gift my time to cover what he borrowed. And it’ll all be okay again.”
Crowley didn’t like how distressed Aziraphale sounded but also didn’t like that he couldn’t smell him. “Why don’t you, then? If I’m so insignificant?”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. “Stop that this instant! I am trying to keep you out of trouble, you wicked boy.”
“And I’m trying to stay with you,” Crowley said firmly. “Or would you rather I be whisked off to an unknown fate, never to be seen again?”
His eyes watered. “That isn’t fair.”
Damn it. He had too big of a soft spot for Aziraphale to resist that look. Crowley softened and slipped an arm around him. “Silly omega. As if I wouldn’t spend the rest of my after life trying to find a way back to you.”
“YOU WOULD NEVER FIND ONE,” Death put in, and Aziraphale pressed his face against Crowley's shoulder.
“So do you just get off on upsetting people? Is it a fetish?”
Aziraphale nearly pinched him, but he didn't want to. He just wanted to hold Crowley tight and never let him go. He just wanted his alpha, nuzzling into his scent gland in an instinctive search for a scent he knew wouldn't be there.
Yet it was.
There was something new in it now, a hint of Aziraphale’s own vanilla scent, but apples and cinnamon were still so strong. He wasn't supposed to keep his scent. He was supposed to be even less corporeal than Aziraphale, his senses dulled to any piece of the living world. And yet…
“Crowley…”
“YOU’LL HAVE TO WORK OFF YOUR BORROWED TIME. AZIRAPHALE WILL TRAIN YOU.” Death finished filling out the paperwork he'd been idly working on since before they'd walked in and slid it across the desk. “SIGN HERE. THEN GO SEE HR DOWN THE HALL.”
Crowley stared down at the single sheet of paper. It was, by all accounts, the simplest employment contract he'd ever seen. Though, he supposed, when one was Death and your employees were all dead, one didn't need superfluous things like insurance and sick days and Proper Documentation.
There was a cup of pens on the desk that Crowley hadn't noticed before now; all of them were shaped like the human spine. Weird, morbid, new employer. Crowley plucked up one of the pens and signed his name with a solicitor's flourish. Not even bothering to read what little of a contract there was.
He looked up with a quirked eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“DO YOU WANT MORE?”
Aziraphale shook his head, taking one of Crowley's hands. “No, I… I'll teach him everything I know. Thank you.”
Crowley nearly commented on how there hadn't been any kind of hallway, so how was he supposed to find Human Resources office but the way Aziraphale's hand shook in his kept his mouth shut.
At least until he'd been dragged out of the office and into… a hallway. A very long, very ‘oxford college’ looking hallway that seemed to stretch on and on in both directions. When he looked back, the door they'd just came through was nothing more than a blank, wood-panelled wall. “Is your boss always like that?”
“Mysteriously all-knowing, yet infuriatingly casual?” Aziraphale smiled, reaching up to pull Crowley down for a firm kiss. “Yes.”
It felt like an eternity since he'd been able to kiss Aziraphale even though it hadn't really been all that long ago that they'd been in bed together. “Well, guess he isn't worse than my old boss was.”
Aziraphale’s laugh was tearful, but there as he wrapped his arms around Crowley's neck and held on. “This one’s much better. He isn't trying to take you away from me.”
Crowley chuckled and held back, gently swaying with him. “Don’t care what he says, I'd have clawed my way through the fabric of the universe to find my way back to you.”
“I would've followed you, darling.” Aziraphale pressed their cheeks together. He could've, surely. If the afterlife was as rewarding as he'd been raised to believe - as rewarding as he'd seen during his own - following him would've been possible. “Being with you would've outweighed anything else.”
“Oh, angel.” Crowley rubbed their cheeks together and purred for him. “We’re both a couple of fools, aren't we?”
“A bit,” Aziraphale sighed, but giggled. “You’ll frighten some of your assignments in that car of yours.”
“Some of them might deserve a little fear.”
“Possibly. I don't tend to be sent to those sorts of persons, but a demon like you could surely handle it.” Aziraphale kissed his cheek, stepped back, and flipped open his pocketwatch. “Gosh, we’d best get a wiggle on. It's already been two days.”
Crowley blinked. “What? We were just… Two days!?”
“Time is a bit unusual between life and after, my dear, and you drove for quite a while.” He patted Crowley's arm. “Don’t fret. That wrist-piece of yours will keep track if you want it to.”
“My… watch?” He looked down at his wrist and his very expensive watch did indeed indicate two days had passed. “Christ, no wonder you're so out of touch with modern tech if time can pass like that.”
“Yes, it can be difficult.” Aziraphale hummed. “But you, darling, are thoroughly modern. You'll be far more adept at understanding current persons than I.”
“I guess so,” Crowley mused. “But you can also now ask me to explain anything you don't understand.”
“I can and I will.” Aziraphale took his hand, so glad he could. “Let’s make you official, and then I'll lead you back to the world you're used to.” His chin lifted. “As your mate, there are a few details I ought to see to.”
That had Crowley’s eyebrows lifting. “Such as?”
“Well, I believe my alpha should be with me in every way. Should he want that too.”
“You know, that doesn't clarify nearly as much as you might think, angel.”
Aziraphale only smiled and bustled Crowley into another office. That HR was also Death only amused one of them, and Aziraphale continued to giggle about it as he opened the door to leave and, hand in Crowley’s, stepped into the Mayfair flat. “It doesn’t seem as if anyone’s been here just yet.”
By this point Crowley was not only turned around but also a little dizzy. “Er… not surprising. Not like I had anyone to check up on me.”
Oh, his sweet alpha… “Have you a will?”
Crowley snorted. “Do you really think I thought that far ahead?”
Aziraphale tsked at him. “You were a solicitor, for Heaven’s sake. Irresponsible boy.”
“Like many a doctor, I don't take my own advice,” Crowley said with a little grin. It was weird being here. His keys weren't on the table he usually threw them on, his shoes were missing, and his coat wasn't on its hook. His hand also passed through the sofa when he tried to brush it with his fingertips. “Besides, who'd I leave it to anyway?”
Aziraphale watched him try to touch the sofa again before taking his hand and lifting it to his lips. “Is there anything of import here which you would want access to later?”
Crowley gazed around at his flat, at the things that had brought him a modicum of joy; his plants, his bluetooth stereo system, his collection of Bond movies and books. Then he looked down at Aziraphale and smiled softly at him. “Nah, there's nothing here I'm going to miss that much.”
“You’re so very sweet,” Aziraphale purred. “Considering your former profession, would you know what rights I would have as your mate? I know what I would’ve been entitled to during my own life, but things have changed.”
“Uh… well, technically, you'd have the right to my estate - which is all my possessions and finances including my pension…”
“Alright. You’ll have to instruct me on what you’d like done with those things, then, but the most pressing issue at present is… well. What would you like done with your body? I know what I would like, but I won’t be selfish.”
Crowley blinked at him, not comprehending. “I… Honestly, I never thought about it…” And when he did, there was only one option. “Why don't you… put me next to you.”
His smile bloomed again. “That’s just what I was hoping for. I will.”
“I thought it might be,” Crowley murmured and dipped down to kiss him. “Nothing else matters that much to me, angel. Do with it whatever you want.”
He nodded. “What about your lovely car?”
“That would depend on if it's even salvageable.”
“We’ll find out,” Aziraphale promised and reached for him. “I know being incorporeal can be very strange at first, so if you grow uncomfortable or just feel a need to leave this realm, we’ll go.”
Crowley frowned a little, gaze flicking around a flat he couldn't touch. “Where would we even go?”
“Anywhere. But there are also… Well, you may create your own area wherever you wish. I'll gladly show you mine if you like, but I do need to deal with your final affairs first.”
“Oh… You know you don't have to do that, right?”
“I do.” Aziraphale cupped his cheeks. “I want to. I love you, and I don't want you to come into your afterlife with no one knowing that someone does.”
Crowley turned his head to kiss one of Aziraphale’s palms, nuzzling into his hand. “How lucky I am to have you as my mate.”
“Only because I have enough accrued corporeal time to handle all of this,” he giggled.
“And you already spent quite a bit on me already.”
“My dear, I have nearly a century.”
Crowley wheezed. “Angel, have you never taken time off!?”
“Ah. No.” Aziraphale considered it for a moment before adding, “Well. We get a smidge of downtime between each assignment, but I've never used that time to be corporeal. Not until you.”
“I would scold you for being a workaholic but I didn't take much time off either.”
“I know,” Aziraphale sighed. “I did follow you about for a week before I realised you could see me.”
“Stalker,” Crowley accused, grinning. “So… people can't see us? Well, normally, I mean?”
“No. As I've said, no one has ever been able to see me besides you.” His gaze shifted guiltily. “Except…”
“Don’t get shy on me now, angel.”
He turned pink. “Well… There's an, ah, a bit of an in-between state you'll be able to take soon. It's… very useful for frightening away mischief makers at the bookshop.”
Crowley’s delight was palpable, his grin widening with every word. “So you do haunt your poor niece!”
“She doesn't mind,” Aziraphale huffed. “She talks to me, the sweet thing.”
“Yes. She mentioned that you’re not… mean to her.”
“I'm not mean to any of my family. I'm not mean to anyone.”
“No,” Crowley agreed. “I can’t imagine you being mean to anyone. Bit of a bastard, maybe, but never mean.”
Aziraphale nodded, pleased by the reassurance. What he did to those who strolled into the bookshop intending to cause harm was… protection. “Thank you. Perhaps you’ll be willing to assist me with her? I’ve been attempting to find her some sort of friend, but I’ve no idea what to seek nowadays.”
Crowley hummed and tapped his chin. He didn't exactly have his hand on the pulse of however people met others nowadays outside of dating apps but, “I might be able to point you in the right direction.”
“I knew I could rely on my alpha.” Aziraphale wiggled cheerfully. “Now to find that body of yours,” he decided, then instantly changed his mind. “Um. Ah. Actually, that may be a bit much for you. I could tuck you in my space and come fetch you when I need assistance?”
“Oh…” He hadn't thought about it until just now but… Crowley wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to see his own dead body, snapped neck and all. “Yeah, that… I think that'd be good.”
Nodding, Aziraphale’s hand slipped into Crowley's and he led him to what should've been the bedroom door. Instead, it opened into what looked, at first, to be the bookshop in Soho.
But this one didn't have Muriel, didn't have a visible front door at all. The windows didn't look out to bustling streets but stars, a swirling nebula of colour. It also didn't have newspaper clippings and an old urn on an obviously burnt desk. The rolltop was smooth and functional, if cluttered, and nearby was a very cosy looking seat and a couch with plush cushions and an ornate red blanket tossed over them. “Here we are. I've never allowed anyone else to come here, but… I trust you not to make any drastic changes, Crowley. If you'd like to create your own room, you need only envision a door somewhere and it'll mould itself to your whim.”
It was warm and cosy and felt very… Aziraphale. There was comfort here even though it didn’t smell nearly strongly enough of his mate. That made sense, in a way, it wasn’t as if the dead had any need for scenting and mates and all that. What would be the point? It still made his chest ache and Crowley squeezed the hand still holding his while he nodded. “No, yeah, I wouldn’t mess about with your place.”
“I know.” Aziraphale settled him on the couch, kissing his cheek, and did let his scent reach out. He wanted Crowley's in here too. He'd never had need before, no, but things had changed. He had a mate now. “You’ll have to relearn your scent,” he murmured, “but I rather adore the change.”
Crowley blinked up at him, breathing in that scent he’d grown to love so much in such a short time. “It… changed?”
“It always does. The last thing you smell affixes itself to you.”
“O-oh.” The last thing he remembered smelling before everything went dark was Aziraphale. Crowley’s head fell to Aziraphale’s chest and stayed there as he put his arms around him. “So I smell a bit like you.”
“A bit,” Aziraphale purred. “I thought your scent might have leather or metal.” Or blood. “But it doesn't. Only me. I've well and truly claimed you, alpha mine.”
Crowley huffed a soft laugh. “Just had to make sure no one else could have me, hm?”
“No. You don’t want anyone else, luckily.”
“I definitely don’t,” Crowley agreed, hugging him a little tighter. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Aziraphale stroked his hair. “And I'll teach you everything I know about your new state. Most importantly, you'll never have another migraine. You'll never have to fret about money. And I will always be here for you.”
“You said you’d already taken the migraines away,” Crowley murmured, even though he hadn’t really had any time to appreciate their absence. “The other stuff is what’s new.”
“Name something - besides me, silly thing - that you would like. Not now, even, but when you’re alone in free time.”
Crowley lifted his head, chin digging a little into Aziraphale chest, to look up at him. “A record player, I think. Music, something to listen to.”
“Oh! That isn't any trouble.” Aziraphale cheerfully wiggled, then nodded his head towards a gramophone nearby. “I listen to music quite often, although I'm highly unfamiliar with your modern bebop. Whatever music you like will play if you wish it.”
“Anything I want?”
“Mmhm. That’s one of the benefits. If it exists in life, it can exist after. Your Bentley is likely parked right outside.”
Crowley’s eyes lit. “It is?”
“You brought it along, my dear. You’ll never be far from it.” Aziraphale’s shrug was light. “Even if I wanted to change my clothes, it would only be temporary. It’s difficult to keep something new.” It hadn’t been easy to keep Crowley’s mark, and Aziraphale would likely have to refresh it - or have Crowley do so, now that that was an option - regularly. “But those things you have with you at the end will always be easy to reach.”
“Oh…” That, for some reason, made him feel moderately better. This weird afterlife would, at least, have some familiar things in it. “Which means you’ll have to continue putting up with my driving.”
“Yes, well, I know you won't kill us.” Aziraphale gave him a pointed look. “Again.”
Crowley leaned back and crossed his arms. “Actually, technically, I didn't kill you. That happened way before…” He trailed off as a realization hit and his grin grew. “Oh my god, you're so much older than me! Naughty omega going after the younger alpha!”
Aziraphale pinched him. “Wicked alpha.”
That only made Crowley’s grin grow even more. “You love me.”
“I do.” Aziraphale reached out, fingers brushing over the mark on his throat. That it would always look more fresh than not was incredibly sweet. “Do you think you’ll be alright if I leave for a tick?”
Something in Crowley's chest seized but he nodded anyway. “As long as you promise to come back.”
Aziraphale kissed him, soft and sweet. “Always, beloved. Please feel free to make yourself a space. I’ll just be two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Alright.” Crowley tipped his head to receive another kiss before letting him go. He sunk a little into the couch as he watched Aziraphale bustle out and, once the door shut behind him, it was like the rest of existence was closed off. The only sound was the soft ticking from what was most likely a clock somewhere he couldn't immediately see.
Crowley tipped his head back and stared at the wooden ceiling above him.
He was dead. Truly, properly, dead. It wasn't anything like he'd heard about. No bright light, no flaming pit, no planet out in space with virgins (ugh) awaiting his every need. None of that had sounded appealing anyway but it was still an adjustment. He'd put on a brave, nonchalant face for Aziraphale but… he couldn't keep it up with him gone.
The tears that fell were almost a relief. He could still cry, could still feel. He still felt the need to breathe and gasp. His chest hurt like an open wound and Crowley let himself feel it.
Even with the best possible outcome one still needed a moment to accept their new reality and when that moment was done, it was done. Crowley still sat there a moment, sniffing and wiping the moisture from his face. He took Aziraphale's handkerchief out the pocket it was still in, it still smelled just like him, bourbon and vanilla and a little of smoke, and pressed it to his nose to calm himself.
And when he felt a little more like himself, he stood and took stock of the shop. It did look am awful lot like the one young Muriel ran, only… older. More lived in.
Crowley tapped his chin as he turned, taking it all in.
Yes, he could, perhaps, work with this.
Crowley hadn’t been the only one who’d needed a good cry, but Aziraphale’s had happened in a morgue and gone a long way towards convincing authorities that he was the mysterious mate no one seemed to know.
Beyond the texts to Crowley’s employer and the coffee shop owner, there wasn’t a living soul who’d known Crowley had even had a mate. That Aziraphale had also been able to see the person who’d struck the Bentley - behind the wheel after a long morning losing himself in pints - had not gone well for the barely injured cretin. He’d likely welcome a prison cell after seeing the things Aziraphale had rather forcefully opened his eyes to, but he’d far more likely end up in a padded one.
Well. At least he wouldn’t do it again.
Two full weeks passed by in the mortal realm before Aziraphale entered the bookshop he’d created beyond, stepping into the actual bookshop’s backroom and ending up in his own.
His alpha was no longer on the couch, which wasn’t a surprise, but the gramophone was silent, which was. He’d thought Crowley would be listening to music in the - he checked his pocketwatch - two hours he’d been gone.
As he drew nearer to a spiral staircase further into the shop, he could hear something at least Crowley would classify as music so he followed the sound up. He followed it down the hall, and realised it had gotten much longer. A black door at the end had his smile softening, and he pushed it open. “Cro- oh, my.”
“Like it?” Crowley asked, peeking around the massive lead of an elephant ear plant. Freddie Mercury was crooning something about lover boys but Crowley hadn't been listening to it for a while now. He was too busy trying to get the lighting just right. Even if it was technically artificial and the plants didn't actually grow, it was important it looked right.
The green house was warm and humid and bright and he didn't even need his sunglasses, could appreciate it without a dark tint. Crowley wiped his hands on his trousers, leaving dirt behind. “I feel like the light still isn't right but I'm working on it.”
“Goodness, Crowley, you’ve created a conservatory?”
“Of a sort, I suppose.”
Aziraphale caught a leaf between his fingers, rubbing it gently. “Are these dead plants you’ve found or did you create some?”
“I made them…” Crowley frowned. “I didn't know if I'd be able to get back if I left…”
Aziraphale smiled fondly. “You will always be welcome here, darling. All you need to do is want to be here before you open a door.”
“Oh.” He hadn't known that. “And I can… bring things back with me?”
“Mmhm. It’s simpler to bring back things which have died, of course. Especially being that you’ve no corporeal time. It’s still beautiful, though. And, oh, your eyes are so pretty in this light.” Aziraphale beamed at him. “You positively shine, darling. I’ve missed you.”
A warm flush stole over Crowley’s face and wagged his head back and forth. “Get all my affairs in order, did you?”
“A good chunk of them.” There was still a bit more left that Aziraphale simply didn’t have the modern knowledge required to complete, but he’d dealt with all that he could. “It’s been two weeks, and I couldn’t take being gone any longer.”
“Two-!” Crowley looked down at his watch, mouth agape. “Bloody hell.”
“Time does function differently between here and there. It’s difficult to explain, and it’s part of why I spend as much time as I’m able to stand there.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” It would be so easy to just lose time here and never realise it. Crowley took up both of Aziraphale's hands and kissed them one after another. “Let me show you what else I did here.”
“I would love to see it.”
Crowley grinned and tugged him along, showing him around the greenhouse and naming off the various plants he'd willed up. At first it had been a little embarrassing to rattle of names and types and facts but the more he did it and the longer Aziraphale listened the more confident he became. He'd made a small little jungle and was delighted to show Aziraphale the whole thing, including the tucked away nest hidden by tall fronds and thick hanging vines. A large bed on a platform with a small pool to dip in nearby, shadier and cooler than the rest. The sheets and duvet might have been white, but he hadn't settled on the colour yet.
“I know you have a bedroom, but I figured there wouldn't be any harm in adding another.”
“No. I don’t believe I’ve ever used the bedroom, to be perfectly honest with you.” Aziraphale smiled, a gentle tug all it took to bring Crowley down into a warm kiss. It was so much better to see him like this, so vibrant even after his body had ceased its functions, than it had to stand in that morgue and identify his mate. Cold and unseeing and absent. “I’ll happily use this one with you and that wonderful imagination of yours whenever you like.”
“You’ve been gone for two weeks,” Crowley reminded him even though that much time hadn't actual passed here in this little pocket of home. “Stay here with me for a little while.”
He probably shouldn't. While he'd dealt with much, there were still a few things which needed attention. He'd intended on bringing Crowley back with him to finish, but something about being near him made bending the rules so much easier. It made those outside things feel less urgent. Aziraphale guided Crowley into another kiss, melting into this one with a soft sigh. “Yes.”
Eventually, they made it back to the land of the living. Crowley's final affairs were thoroughly wrapped up. Muriel never fully understood how one urn had doubled, but her mind tended to slide away from the fact when she tried to ponder over it for any real length of time. When anyone asked after it, she would only say the second was her ancestor's mate, who'd passed on a long while afterwards.
Aziraphale liked seeing his urn - a new one, as gold as Crowley's eyes - next to a red one bearing delicate black, floral etchings. More, he liked being able to take Crowley's hand and smile into those pretty eyes whenever he liked. He was grateful that he could, holding his arm as cheerfully as he had on their first outing to the Globe as Crowley led him to the Bentley. The one they could use and not the repaired one permanently parked in front of a Soho bookshop.
“Are you nervous for your first assignment?” he wondered, kissing Crowley's cheek when the alpha opened the passenger door for him.
Crowley made a complicated noise in his throat and shrugged. He'd watched Aziraphale do a few already and it didn't look that complicated. “Not really. Doesn't look difficult.”
Aziraphale giggled. “It isn't as long as you don't do something silly like fall in love with them.”
“Oh, in that case-" Crowley’s arm went right around Aziraphale's waist. “I’d better be careful. Wouldn't want my mate getting jealous.”
“Heaven forbid,” Aziraphale purred and kissed him soundly before drawing back and slid into what had become a familiar spot in the classic car. His purrs were louder then the engine soon would be. His afterlife had taken a dramatic change, and he was as grateful as could be. Life hadn't given him all that he'd wished for, but now he had that and more. A partner who loved as much as he was loved. “Come along, darling. We mustn't dilly-dally.”
“Dilly-dally,” Crowley repeated under his breath. He still wasn't used to Aziraphale's odd turns of phrase. “Not like they're going anywhere.”
“My dear, it would be awful for them to pass before we reach their side. I’ve told you this. Now off you pop. Or I won’t allow you to drive.”
Crowley wagged his head again and rolled his eyes but didn't argue. After all, he didn't actually want to be late to his first actual assignment. He shifted into first gear and sped off.
This afterlife thing was alright, especially with his mate by his side.