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December 30th, 1976.
Crowley was cold. The kind of cold that seeped into his bones and made him miserable.
It had been nine years since he had last seen Aziraphale.
The thermos was sitting in his desk drawer. It used to sit on his bedside table, definitely only for protection, and for no other reason. But then some mornings- or more accurately afternoons- he would wake up with a hollow ache in his heart. Then he would see the thermos and things would… go down hill. As it were.
So now it hides in his desk drawer, it's residual love and tartan hidden from his yellow eyes.
He was in the middle of berating his plants, when the phone rang.
"This had better be important." He said into the phone.
"Yelling at leaves again are you?"
Crowley smiled and sprawled in his desk chair.
"Suppose I was, it's good for them." He winds the cord around his finger.
"If you say so Anthony." Crowley groaned, but he was smiling.
"Is there a reason you called me, or are you just going to judge me for having conversations with plants?"
A laugh sounded at the other end of the phone.
"I was just thinking that I have some excellent whisky-"
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
The man's laugh was cut off as Crowley hung up the phone and bounded out of the room.
Two hours later he had a third of a bottle of whiskey in him, and he was laying on a soft rug, glasses askew.
"'m just sayin, I think it's nice that I'm, y'know. Pals with Freddie Mercury."
Freddie, who was sprawled on the couch, giggled.
"N I think it's pretty nice that I'm friends with… whas your title?"
"I'm the serpent of Eden!" Crowley whined, and Freddie started laughing outright.
"You sound-" he was laughing so hard he couldn't finish the sentence for a full minute. "You should like a child who didn't get his sweets."
"M sensitive." Crowley said, half sitting up against the couch.
"A demon of hell, saying he's sensitive."
"Shhhhh!" Crowley said, smacking Freddie's chest lightly. "S a secret."
"Right, like-" he giggles. "Like your feelings for your boyfriend are a secret."
Crowley begins to whine and Freddie starts laughing hard, taking great heaving gasps of air. Crowley drags himself onto the couch and onto Freddie, making grumpy faces at him.
This only has the result of prolonging the others' mirth, until he can hardly breathe.
When he finally calmed down enough to speak again, he ran a hand through Crowley's hair.
He knew of Crowley's insecurities, and his need for touch. At first Crowley was reluctant to relinquish those poorly kept secrets, but when Freddie opened his arms and ran his hands through Crowley's hair, the demon gave in.
"You really are quite in love." He says softly, and Crowley nods against his chest.
"'is so perfect. I miss him. Miss him so much." One of the singer's hands moves up and down Crowley's back as he begins to cry. " 've loved him for so long. Hurts Freddie. Whenever we're away, m thinkin about him. Can't get him ta leave my mind."
Freddie is quiet for a while, stroking Crowley's back and letting his hair.
"M sorry my friend." He says eventually.
Crowley shakes his head a little.
"S alright. Loved him six thooooooooousand years. N I'll love him till this world ends."
Crowley knows he's crying, but he can't be bothered to care.
"If you could do one thing with him. 'sides the obvious. What would you do?"
Crowley sighed.
"I'd dance with him."
Freddie croons softly to the crying demon in his lap.
"He's so perfect, Fred. So beautiful. Makes me smile." He hiccups. "You should see him eat food. 's is favorite thing. Tried to take him to the Ritz. N he said no. Said I go to fast n I-"
Freddie shushes him and pulls him closer, trying to console the love-lorn demon.
After a while Crowley calms down, his full on sobs reduced to sniffles.
"Thanks." He says softly.
"Course." There's a pause. "You should tell him."
Crowley shakes his head.
"Can't. Won't. He doesn't want me." Crowley starts crying again, not explosive sobs, but a full ache of pain that drives tears to his eyes.
"M sorry my friend." Freddie says, pulling him closer.
Crowley falls asleep, tucked in his friend's arms, tears staining his face.
They don't talk about it the next day, except when Freddie gives him a sad smile, and a tight hug.
May 6th, 1977
Crowley had been on his way out of Mayfair when he heard it.
He nearly crashed the car trying to pull over and turn up the radio at the same time.
He was sobbing uncontrollably within a minute. By some miracle the song played a second time, and Crowley listened closely to the lyrics.
There was no way this was an accident.
He was at Freddie's front door in less than an hour, standing on the stoop and sobbing like a man possessed.
When Freddie opened the door he only had a moment to look aghast before Crowley had pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his shoulder.
"Crowley, what-"
"Thank you." He managed. "Thank you Freddie."
Freddie closed the door and hugged him back tightly. "You're welcome."
It takes a moment before Crowley releases him, and Freddie wipes the tears from his face.
"Just promise me something, yeah?"
Crowley nodded.
"Anything."
Freddie smiled, tears in his eyes.
"Promise me you'll play it for him some day."
Crowley nodded again, more tears springing to his eyes.
"I will."
November 24th, 1991.
Crowley was on his couch, bottle in hand.
It wasn't making him drunk fast enough.
The phone kept ringing. He knew it was Aziraphale, but he had unplugged it. He couldn't face his angel at the moment.
Not like this.
The liquor tasted foul on his tongue, but Crowley drank it anyway. His heart ached, and the river's worth of tears never seemed to end.
He didn't remember the scream that tore from his throat, or throwing the bottle into the wall. But suddenly he was without alcohol. And suddenly he had more.
His hands were shaking. When had he torn his shirt? There was blood he couldn't account for.
He passed out in a growing puddle of alcohol, and a little bit of his own blood.
He was gone.
November 24th, 2020
Crowley was lying with his head in Aziraphales lap, crying quietly.
This was usually the way it went, the pain dulled to something less sharp over the years. But he had never before had someone to comfort him through it.
"I wish I had gotten to meet him." Aziraphale said softly.
Crowley nodded, pressing a tentative kiss to Aziraphales palm.
"He was a wonderful person. Unendingly kind." Crowley sniffed. "Knowing him was a privilege."
Aziraphale stroked a hand through his hair, and Crowley was abruptly reminded of that night, drunk and sprawled out on the couch on top of one of his best friends.
"Aziraphale?"
"Yes dear?"
Crowley shifted so he was looking up at his Angel.
"Can I show you something?"
The Angel's gentle fingers wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"Of course."
Crowley stood, making his way over to the speaker in the corner. In less than a minute he was back at the couch, pulling Aziraphale to his feet.
"I made him a promise." Crowley said softly, pressing play on his phone. Good old fashioned lover boy started playing, and Aziraphale perked up.
"Oh! I've heard this before."
Crowley nodded, taking Aziraphales hands and failing in his attempts to stop the tears.
"He wrote this for us angel."
Crowley could see the tears in Aziraphales blue eyes as he continued.
"We got drunk one night, I guess I was babbling on. And he took what I said, about you, and wrote a song for us." A hand comes up to cradle the demons face.
"I promised him I would show you." Crowley choked out, trying to smile. "I promised-" he started to cry properly, and Aziraphale pulled him into a hug.
"Oh my dear. I'm so glad you have. I did wonder… but I never thought of this." He released Crowley, only to hold the other man's head in his hands.
"It gave me, something to hold onto. Through it all. And when he died-" Crowley stopped, finding it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat.
Aziraphale nodded, and now he was crying too.
Crowley tried a smile, then pulled Aziraphale back into a hug and closed his eyes.
Aziraphale did the same, listening to the lyrics as the song repeated several times. Eventually he opened his eyes, letting more tears fall, and mouthed the words,
'Thank you.'