I recently saw someone propose that the scene with the books was not necessarily the moment Aziraphale realized he loved Crowley, but rather the moment he realized Crowley loved him.
And that made no sense to me.
After all, Crowley is so obvious about it, surely he must have already known. Surely? They've been flirting back and forth for six thousand years (well, just shy of, at this point). It's clearly a two-way game, is it not? Crowley loves him, he loves Crowley, they play these little games like "haha help me I'm locked in the Bastille", so on and so forth. He can't not know.
Except, he's an angel who wants so badly to be good and do the "right thing". He's an angel who lives in Gabriel's Heaven, where they praise his spirit while looking down at him with pitying looks that say: you clearly don't fit in. He isn't shown love or affection by the beings who ought to be the definition of love and light and kindness and caring.
How does the saying go? If you smell something bad in the morning, you've smelled something bad. If you smell something bad all day, who's the common denominator? If all of the other angels get along and mesh well with each other, but they don't get along with you, who are you going to think is the problem? You.
You look at life through your own lens. You look at other people through your perspective. He might see the ways Crowley clearly cares about him, but not truly believe himself. He's a demon. Of course he doesn't actually love an angel. That would be ridiculous. Who would think such a thing? Even angels don't care for him this way, why would a demon?
After I considered this, I considered the fight in the 1800s. I considered the way Aziraphale was so reductive about their relationship and how that always seemed kind of odd to me.
Then it occurred to me that this is something I've done as someone who also has anxiety, and was taught not to trust their own thoughts, feelings, and opinions.
Saying out loud, "We have a deep and caring relationship," when you've never actually said you have a deep and caring relationship, is an incredibly vulnerable thing to do for someone who is otherwise not allowed to be vulnerable (which is both of them, to be fair). Believing that you have such a relationship is also an incredibly difficult thing to do for someone who doesn't know if they should trust their feelings.
In this context, when Aziraphale calls their relationship fraternizing, he wouldn't be purposely trying to devalue the actual feelings they have for each other. He would be devaluing himself, because he assumes they can't have these feelings for each other, because he's not worthy of those things. He would also be devaluing his own perspective, and putting Heaven's perspective of demons above his own experience.
Of course they're just fraternizing. How could someone care for him this way, let alone a demon?
Of course Crowley would want it as a suicide pill. What other reason would he have?
Of course Crowley thinks he's an idiot. That's what he is, isn't he? The archangels certainly think so, and how could they be wrong? They're closer to God than he is. After all, he's here fraternizing with (and loving) a demon, which he KNOWS is wrong and he just can't help himself. Tsk.
The saddest thing is that Crowley doesn't see that, making it incredibly hurtful for him.
He has spent the better part of nearly 6000 years showing the angel that he cares about him. He's a demon, for Hell's sake, how much more obvious could he be without getting himself tossed into a pool of holy water? He's so clever, the angel -- he can't not know how Crowley feels. He reciprocates! He knows this, and he's going to boil this down into fraternizing? Ouch.
But they're not on the same side with this issue, they're communicating from two completely different sides. It's like a wink, only instead of a wink it's "fraternizing", and instead of switching the wrong babies they don't speak for 80 years.
That shifts the perspective on "you go too fast for me" as well.
In the context of a mutual romance that spans several millennia, the notion that anything about this relationship is any kind of fast is pretty comedic.
In the context of a romance where at least one side is continually doubting himself and telling himself that what they have couldn't be real, it would make sense. If it took him until 1940 and a demonic miracle around his books of prophecy to finally admit to himself that Crowley actually DOES love him, then perhaps nothing "fast" even happened up to that point.
And speaking of metaphors, the Bentley as a metaphor for a vehicle of change is... extremely fitting, considering the 1940s is the first time it's shown up, and the 1940s would be the first time they'd REALLY on the same page about their relationship.
Then, between either perspective (he either knows Crowley loves him or he doesn't) there's also that high-key level of fear instilled by Heaven. Even if he was wrong (right?) -- even if he did believe that he was loved, he couldn't have it. Heaven says he can't have it. Heaven is a colossus that even Satan himself and his army of angels could not take down; how could he have any hope of fighting against that? More reason to convince yourself that there aren't actually any feelings there, and therefore nothing to worry or feel guilty about.
It fits in with the continual opportunities and favors Aziraphale asks for -- each one is another affirmation that Crowley does indeed care for him. It's another piece of evidence for someone who is supposed to listen to Heaven over himself, for someone who is taught not to trust his own inner guidance.
It's an interesting perspective for sure, and one that I happen to relate to a lot. There's more I have to say in relation to Aziraphale and Heaven in general, but I'll leave that for another post.
Suffice to say, I'm very eager to see how all of this affects him moving forward on his own side with Crowley. We've already seen a glimpse of happy/confident Aziraphale, and I'm sure there will be more. That's something else I relate to, but again, I'll leave it for a follow up post. 🤍
