"Do you think we ever bumped into each other Up There all those years ago?" wondered Aziraphale from his desk, where he was mending a book cover.

"What?" Crowley said, half listening from beneath a pile of pillows and blankets he was wrapped in on the couch.

"I was just thinking back to Before and I can't remember meeting you, but surely we must have."

"I doubt it, angel, I hung around the wrong crowd towards the end there, we had our own clouds. Not a lot of circulation, if you get my drift."

"What was your name?" the angel asked, suddenly considering that 'Crawly' was an unlikely name for an angel, especially before snakes existed.

"Oh, it's been a long time since I had that name, angel, ' the demon groaned, trying to brush off the questions and pulling the covers over his head.

"I'm sorry, it must have been difficult to lose your name in the fall, I apologize for my insensitivity. I was only curious how we never met each other."

"Heaven is a big place with everyone in their circle."

"I know, although I feel like we would have gotten along even then. I suppose I'm lamenting only having known you for 6,000 years."

Crowley felt an uncomfortable tug on his heartstrings. Funny, he thought those had been cut. He rolled over to look at Aziraphale, who had turned away from his book, intent on the conversation. Crowley rubbed his face, thinking back.

"I was just a simple angel, nothing special like an archangel, seraphim, or even a cherub. As I understand it, they all mostly became guardian angels once there were humans to guard; from a distance, of course, otherwise it'd be packed down here."

Aziraphale watched his friend get lost in memories, waiting patiently for him to continue. Crowley smiled at the good times he'd had as an angel, there had been some of course. He'd only started hanging out with the wrong sort when he asked too many questions and the other angels started to avoid him. He grimaced as he remembered how tense things got before the fall and then, of course, there was the fall itself. He shook his head; he normally tried not to think about the past.

"I always liked guardian angels," mentioned Aziraphale softly, "They have the best sense of humor. They also work so subtly; I find them mysterious compared to the grandiosity of the higher ups."

Crowley chuckled at the antics he and his former friends had gotten up to in heaven.

"I never got to be a guardian angel, obviously."

"You got to be Adam's, maybe not angelically per se, but you do look after him."

Corwley seemed to consider this, but didn't respond. Aziraphale did note that it put him in a better mood though. Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, who still seemed to be waiting for something.

"Why do you want my old name, Aziraphale?"

"I want to be certain that I met you when I think I did, in the Garden."

"And?"

"And I'm insatiably curious. I thought we were friends, my dear."

Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes.

"My name was Acrowel."

"God's highest point?"

"Or something like that. I eventually settled on something similar. The '-el' got cut, obviously."

Aziraphale thought hard, but he did not recall anyone with that name from his time in heaven.

"I'm sorry, it doesn't ring a bell."

"It's all right, I didn't expect it to. If we'd have met then, we probably wouldn't be friends now, anyway."

"How do you mean? We get on very well."

"Yes, but..." Crowley didn't know how to explain how heartbreaking it would have been to fall if he'd had Aziraphale to lose.

"...I don't think you'd have forgiven me for falling if we had been friends before."

Aziraphale wanted to reject the whole idea. He briefly considered that he might have been able to keep Crowley from falling.

"Well, maybe it would have taken a while, but we'd have found each other again eventually," he suggested cheerfully.

"Whatever you want to imagine, angel."

"Do you miss your old name? Just for familiarity's sake?"

"Not particularly. Aziraphale, why the obsession with names recently?"

"Hm? Oh, well, at Adam's birthday party Anathema and I were discussing what they would name her and Newton's child when it was born. I suppose the topic just stuck in the brain."

"How'd you get your name, angel?" Crowley asked, more to turn the questions to him than curiosity.

Arizaraphale turned back to his desk and returned to mending the book as if he hadn't heard Crowley ask.

"Aziraphale?"

"My name was a typographical error," Aziraphale mumbled from his desk, "It was supposed to be Aziraphael. It's been a... burden to bear."

Crowley's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "Why? I quite like your name. What's wrong with it?"

Aziraphale bristled slightly, still not turning to face him.

"Some of the angels like to stress the 'fell' in Azira-fell," he said flatly, "I find it..."

"Rude? Cruel? Mean?" Crowley started to fume.

"...distasteful. So I do all I could to distance myself from 'falling' in any sense of the word. "

"And that made them stop?"

Aziraphale set down his book with a small slump.

"For a while. I've been here working so much, I rarely talk to anyone Upstairs anyway. I tried taking ownership of it by being A.Z. Fell to the human race. It's less of a problem when it's not connected to ridicule."

Crowley shifted to the side where he could barely see Aziraphale in profile. He could barely restrain the seething in his voice.

"Angel," he hissed, "when was the last time someone mocked you like this?"

"It's not a problem, Crowley."

"It's is my problem now. We both know that the only being you should be afraid of in the celestial kingdom is me."

Aziraphale gave Crowley an overtly dubious look.

"'Should' being the operative word, of course. Who says it, angel?"

"And just what would you be able to do about it?" Aziraphale burst out at him angrily.

Crowley stepped back; it was rare for Aziraphale to yell at him, or anyone, for that matter.

"I appreciate your concern, Crowley, I really do, but there is absolutely nothing that can be done about this. Now can we please change the subject?"

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, close to tears. Crowley, unsure of how to respond to his friend's outburst, nodded silently. He gave his friend a small pat on the back and sighed. Aziraphale sniffed quietly, trying to pull himself together.

"Want to go for a walk? The park should be nice at this time of day. Let's go get some air."

Aziraphale nodded and they left for the park in the Bentley. Crowley reached for the radio, but had a second thought about subjecting Aziraphale to Queen at the moment. They rode to the park in comfortable silence, aside from the angel pointing out that he was going to hit a lamppost. Crowley did try to go slower this time.

When they arrived at the park, Crowley followed as Aziraphale dutifully made his way to feed the ducks. They stopped at a nearby bench, Crowley restrained himself from torturing the ducks as Aziraphale fed them quietly.

"I'm so very sorry I yelled at you," the angel murmured, "I guess I haven't ever talked about this with anyone before and didn't realize how much it affected me."

"I'm alright, angel, no need to apologize. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories," Crowley paused, continuing earnestly, "Y'know, I rather like 'Aziraphale' compared to 'Azi-ra-phi-el'", he said, stressing the syllables. "It rolls off the tongue easier. The other one doesn't want to fit in my mouth at all."

Aziraphale gave him a subversive look.

"What?" Crowley puzzled.

Aziraphale blushed and returned to feeding the ducks, desperately trying to change the topic.

"Nothing."

It dawned on Crowley.

"Oh! You dirty minded angel. That's not what I meant at all."

Aziraphale gritted his teeth and refused to reply, turning a shade darker. Crowley took a little pity on his friend and didn't push the joke.

"I only meant that I'd rather you were my Aziraphale than some other name. If all anyone can hear is 'fell' than they've got an unhealthy way of thinking that would have given Sigmund a field day."

Aziraphale chuckled and rolled his eyes, "He was one of yours?"

"Nah, wait, he wasn't yours?"

"Of course not."

"Humans can be so strange. It always made me concerned that they're supposedly made in the image and likeness of the Almighty."

"I've always just supposed that's why we like them."

Crowley wasn't sure if 'we' meant the angels or the two of them. He didn't care to ask.

"If you must know, it was Gabriel that started the whole nickname thing."

"I had a feeling. Guess I need to go screw up Portugal soon then."

Aziraphale cast an admonishing look at Crowley and then gave it a second thought. Crowley caught him giving a mischievous smile.

"Maybe I'll go with you."

Inspired by Junvii_arts Pre-Fallen Crowley comic

Note: St. Gabriel is the Patron Saint of Portugal