'Til Death Do Us Part - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 13

Soho, London

The familiar rumble of the Bentley's engine reverberated through the quiet streets of London as Crowley navigated toward Aziraphale's bookshop. The urgency of the situation had spurred him into action, prompting a detour from his usual haunts.

In the midst of the urban hum, Crowley pulled out his phone and dialed Y/N's number. She answered promptly, concern woven into the timbre of her voice. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Fine, fine," he reassured her, the truth stretched thin in his words. "Just got caught up in something. Missed your call, sorry about that."

Y/N's inquiry persisted, her genuine worry evident. "Where are you?"

"On my way to the bookshop to talk to Aziraphale," Crowley disclosed, realizing that transparency might be the best course of action.

Silence lingered on the other end of the line before Y/N spoke again, her voice carrying a subtle offer. "I can come with you,"

Crowley hesitated, the weight of the recent vision still fresh in his mind. He needed time to mull over the unsettling revelation, to find a way to reconcile the cosmic implications with the reality of his feelings for Y/N. "It's fine." he replied carefully, his voice betraying a touch of reluctance. "I'll be home soon."

There was a subtle disappointment in Y/N's response, but she masked it well. "Alright. I'll see you later then," she said, her words carrying a gracious acceptance.

As Crowley prepared to end the call, Y/N seized the moment, her voice holding a hint of vulnerability. "Can we talk later?" she asked, a plea in her tone.

Crowley, still wrestling with the weight of the vision and the conflicting emotions it stirred, dismissed her request with a brusque assurance. "Yeah, we'll talk later." he stated, and without waiting for more, he hung up.

......

The Bentley glided to a stop outside the quaint bookshop, and Crowley hurriedly stepped out, striding with purpose towards the familiar entrance. The door's bell chimed as he pushed it open, announcing his arrival to the serene haven that was Aziraphale's bookshop.

Aziraphale, ever the gracious host, made his way over with a warm smile. "Crowley, my dear, is everything all right?" he inquired, genuine concern etched across his features.

Crowley, however, didn't offer his customary smirk or casual greeting. Instead, he shook his head and made a beeline for one of the plush armchairs scattered around the cozy book-filled space. Without ceremony, he plopped into the chair and swiftly removed his sunglasses, revealing eyes that betrayed an uncommon level of distress.

Aziraphale, sensing the gravity of the situation, followed Crowley to the seating area and took a seat opposite him. "What's wrong?" he asked, the genuine worry apparent in his voice.

Crowley took a deep breath, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of what troubled him. "Hell found out about our little miracle from yesterday," he confessed, his tone edged with frustration.

Aziraphale's eyes widened at the revelation, a mixture of surprise and worry flickering across his expressive face. "Oh, dear. That's not good news at all," he remarked, his mind already racing through the potential ramifications.

Crowley, however, seemed preoccupied with more than just the predicament with Hell. His gaze lingered on some distant thought, a shadow darkening the glint in his eyes. Aziraphale, ever perceptive, sensed that there was more beneath the surface.

"What else is bothering you, my dear?" Aziraphale gently prodded, his concern shifting to encompass the more personal turmoil Crowley seemed to be wrestling with.