I’m re-watching Good Omens for the umpteenth time and I noticed something about the scene when Crowley and Aziraphale go to the former convent to try to find out what happened to the real anti-christ.
As far as Crowley is concerned, this place is still run by satanic nuns, which means it is still very much a place that Hell is in contact with, and it probably wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to expect another demon or two to be lurking around somewhere on the premises.
So Crowley puts on a show.
His usual manner of tempting is so much more subtle than what we see when he visits the convent with Aziraphale. Kicking down doors for no reason? Unnecessary force isn’t really Crowley’s style...but it is very much Hell’s style. Replacing paint guns with real guns? That’s the sort of thing Hell would expect to see from a demon, but not the sort of thing Crowley normally does. And Aziraphale is shocked! I think if those were the sorts of stunts Crowley normally pulled, Aziraphale wouldn’t be quite so caught off guard.
After a few minutes, Crowley relents and reassures Aziraphale that no humans are actually getting hurt: “Oh, all right, no one’s actually going to get killed. They’re all having miraculous escapes. It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.” You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice. Since Crowley has been pretty clear on many occasions that he doesn’t really like harming humans, I don’t think he’s annoyed that Aziraphale won’t “let” him actually kill people. I think he’s annoyed that Aziraphale is making him admit his softness out loud. And, like most of the the communication in this story, I think the actual message is not so much in the words that are spoken, but in the ones which aren’t: Aziraphale, I am putting on a show. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same person underneath, but Hell expects me to act a certain way and so I am putting on a show.
But Aziraphale clearly doesn’t get that message, because he says (out loud! for any old demon to hear!) that Crowley is nice. Nice.
And, sure, we can talk about how physically close they are, we can talk about where Aziraphale points his eyes, we can talk about the familiar trust between the two, we can talk about the intimacy all we want, but none of that erases the urgency in Crowley’s voice.
It isn’t an objection--it’s a reminder. Crowley needs Aziraphale to catch on to what’s happening, and he needs him to do it now. He is usually lenient and indulgent towards Aziraphale, and clearly Aziraphale is used to the only real consequence being an eye roll, but Crowley can’t be lenient and indulgent now, because if Aziraphale doesn’t get with the program, the consequences will be far worse than an eye roll.
It’s sort of brilliant, though, in a heartbreaking way, that Crowley is so adept at pretending in this particular way that he is able to deliver this message to Aziraphale without making Aziraphale feel threatened or unsafe in any way, while still managing to give the appearance (for anyone from Hell that may happen to be looking) that he is appropriately roughing up this angel, that they are not friends, that he is a very wily demon, indeed.
(And the fluffy part of me likes to think that Crowley takes this moment to send a second message to any potentially lurking demons: Nobody needs to pay any attention to this angel. I’m already dealing with him. No need to touch him. No need to come near him.)
I love that when Sister Mary Loquacious comes along and calls the moment out as what it is, Aziraphale’s eyes linger on Crowley for a moment before turning to see the newcomer. The desire seems so close to the surface in that moment. But I also wonder if this is proof that Aziraphale finally got the message. He realizes that he was acting in a way that made Crowley uncomfortable, and he is determined not to do that anymore. He observes Crowley’s reaction carefully so that he can follow Crowley’s lead and act accordingly.
Because the thing is, Aziraphale does understand the importance of keeping up appearances. He puts on the very same show for Heaven. Maybe he didn’t recognize that’s what was going on right away (after all, he said the place felt loved, and he is thoroughly convinced that demons can’t love, so it probably doesn’t even cross his mind to think that this place could still be associated with Hell), but he understands it now, and that’s what matters.
But then, can you imagine this instant from Crowley’s point of view? imagine the absolute terror he must have felt when someone saw through his carefully-donned charade and called him out for being intimate with an angel. And then to see her, and realize that this is not just a random human-- this is a human who is connected to Hell-- who very much had the power to ensure that unspeakable things happened to Crowley, happened to Aziraphale, if she so much as said a word to the right (wrong?) people. I think its telling that his first instinct in his moment of panic is to prevent her from talking.
And, yeah, Aziraphale says it was unnecessary to put her in such a trance, that they could have just asked her to help them, but it is also Aziraphale who suggests that she will awake having dreamt of whatever she likes best, which is very angelic-sounding on the surface, of course, but what’s left unspoken is what she won’t remember: an angel and a demon caught in an unacceptably intimate moment. It’s almost like Aziraphale is covering his tracks, or at least like he’s trying to show Crowley that he’s on the same page now...except that suddenly, Crowley doesn’t seem phased anymore. In hearing that the order dissolved and the records burned, Crowley also heard the unspoken implication: this is no longer Hell’s turf. And Crowley visibly relaxes. He walks and talks with Aziraphale just like normal. He ignores the humans completely. He no longer has to pretend to be something he is not.
