Crowley hadn’t meant to fall. He had just.. sauntered vaguely downwards until he had reached Hell.

That was what he had told Aziraphale, anyway.

And yet, Crowley couldn’t help but think, driving through the damp streets of London, Aziraphale in the passenger seat, Queen blasting through the speakers.. oh, he couldn’t help but think about the honesty of that statement.

Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe Crowley really did fall.