New item of my list of reunion options for s3:
Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the middle of a dangerous moment, at the eve of an apparently unavoidable Second Coming, while all the signs of the approaching end of the world are manifesting on Earth - inexplicable fights and revolts burst everywhere, earthquakes shake the ground, heavy rain keeps falling non stop. They are both transfixed at the unexpected presence of the other: but there is no time to speak, they are forced to collaborate to get out of the situation, and when everything seems lost they manage a last second escape by instinctively grabbing each other hands and miracling themselves away.
Next thing they know they are tumbling over each other in the bandstand at Battersea Park. For what feels like an infinite moment they stay frozen in the sudden proximity, half tangled on the ground, soaked, staring into each other eyes.
Aziraphale opens his mouth a couple of times, gasping for words or for air, until finally something clicks in his chest and his voice comes out like a cracked note from a broken carillon.
- I'm back. - he says with a desperate accent that seems to beg "please don't tell me that you don't want me back".
- Yes... - Crowley answers out of breath, with a whisper that sounds like it came from another world. - I can see that.
A long silence falls between them, their eyes still fixed on each other's face as the initial shock of the unexpected reunion turns into painful uncertainty, doubt, fear to attempt a word or even a thought. A coarse rope of hope and despair tightly woven together ties around them, tighter and tighter.
Aziraphale sniffles, something emerges from the fog in his brain - a warm memory, a dim obstinate little light shining over a narrow path that wasn't there before. The downpour roars on the bandstand roof, on the trees, on the entire world.
A silly idea. But it's really the only one he got.
- Do you... - Aziraphale's voice fails. Does he dare to say it? Does he dare to take that narrow path, to try that silly idea? Will he follow him or will he just watch him stumble from afar, without taking a step, maybe annoyed, maybe even angry at him for pulling such a ridiculous move? Crowley is staring at him and the expression on his face is impossible to read. The angel takes a deep breath and tries to make it sound casual, but despite his best effort his words come out as a desperate cry, half shouting half sobbing: - Do you want a big "I said the wrong thing" sort of an apology or can we take that as said?
There, he has said it. He has actually said the words. Their old silly words...
Crowley is perfectly still, like one who's been struck by a lightning. The raindrops still dripping down his hair, into his eyes, over his face. For an infinite amount of time they both sit there without breathing, the words that once were one of their many games of saying without saying - so funny and so painful, ever so charming - float in the air between them, waiting to be accepted or denied.
Finally a different whisper comes out, a little more present, a little less otherworldly, a little crackling like a small fire.
- I'd like the apology actually.
Being both still soaked by the storm, it's hard to say wether the drops on their cheeks are raindrops or tears, but now each of them can spot on the other's lips the faintest hint of what could be a smile.
- A proper apology. - The demon insists, - With a little...
But he doesn't get to say "dance", because at that point the angel his already kissing him.
