Chapter Text
"Did it work?"
Crowley heard Muriel’s voice as if they were standing behind a really heavy curtain. His senses didn’t feel right; his eyes were closed, there was a loud rushing in his ears, and the only thing he could feel was Aziraphale’s hand in his.
He felt exhausted, as though all energy had been taken from his body. It was a novel sensation, as he’d mostly been performing minor miracles on Earth for the past six thousand years and demons didn’t feel exhaustion over such minor efforts.
He felt his own hand tighten its grip on Aziraphale’s. Opening his eyes was an overwhelming process. The soft light of the bookshop’s lamps pierced through his vision like a sharp blade.
Crowley winced, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted to the light and his body stopped trembling. The feeling of Aziraphale’s hand in his anchored him until he started to come back to himself and was able to look around and recognise Muriel, Nina and Maggie in front of them.
"Well," Aziraphale said carefully. "I suppose we will find out in the next few hours."
Crowley looked into the angel’s eyes and saw his own feverish hope shining back at him.
"Yeah," he said with a heavy heart, aiming for confident and aloof but missing the mark by a good mile. "Only thing we can do is wait."
They’d put as many safety measures in place as they could before going to Heaven to get Aziraphale out of there. But there was no telling if their plan had worked or if the bookshop would be overrun by both angels and demons - and in that case, they were as good as permanently dead.
Crowley couldn’t have looked away from Aziraphale if he wanted to (which, for the first time in a long time he actually didn’t). For most of the past few months, he’d been facing a reality in which he would most likely have eternity, but without Aziraphale.
Now he had Aziraphale but likely no future.
"I wanted to thank you," Aziraphale said. "You came to help me."
"Yeah, of course." As if there was a world in which he would ever, ever stay away if he knew Aziraphale was in trouble.
"I thought I could stop it," Aziraphale whispered, almost ashamed. "I thought that if I was in charge, they’d have to listen to me."
That was a hammer to Crowley’s heart all over again. He’d known, even before this day, that Aziraphale had truly believed he could change the way things were done Up There. For six thousand years, that unwavering faith had been a source of immeasurable frustration. But now that Crowley knew how Heaven had used that to manipulate him into accepting the role of Superior Archangel, knowing that they would be bringing about the Second Coming onto Earth, the only thing he felt was heartbreak. Aziraphale had only been asked to come back to Heaven to ensure he would be away from Earth when the legions of angels and demons rolled over the planet - and most importantly, to ensure he was far away from Crowley, with whom he had once performed a miracle neither of them were supposed to be capable of. Aziraphale would have had to stand and watch as the planet was destroyed.
In Heaven, Aziraphale had been manipulated and deceived into believing he was changing things (Crowley had even spotted a suggestion box when they were busting Aziraphale out of there), only for the Metatron to tighten the snare of control around him tighter and tighter, until there was no escaping, save for quick, careful trips to Earth - always under threat of Heaven’s surveillance.
Crowley sighed. "I know, angel. Let’s not… talk about that right now, alright?"
There was devastating understanding in Aziraphale’s expression; neither of them wanted to spend however much time they had left talking about their past hurts. If they had successfully hid the planet and everyone on it in what would probably be the most powerful miracle any angel or demon had ever executed, they would be out of Heaven and Hell’s crutches for good. If they hadn’t, there wasn’t much time left; the disappearance of the Supreme Archangel would have been noticed by Heaven’s ruling class rather quickly, and there would be no question of where he’d fled to. The Second Coming would start right here in this bookshop, with two angels, two humans and a demon being the first ones to face judgement. Or, you know, their names would be erased from the Book of Life and they would be gone before even realising.
Their hands still hadn’t let go of each other.
But it seemed like Aziraphale just could not quite stay away from the fire (one he’d ignited, no less). "I just… Worry that I may have botched that conversation we had, just a bit."
Well, the truth of the matter was that he had done just that, but even the demon in Crowley wasn’t cruel enough to confirm it out loud.
But it turned out he didn’t need to, because Aziraphale’s expression became even more stricken at his silence. "I only wanted for us to have more time, not less."
"Doesn’t matter anymore, does it?" Crowley said, and he didn’t quite intend for it to come out as cruel as it did.
Aziraphale’s shoulders dropped, and the fight drained out of him. "No, I suppose it doesn’t."
He hesitated, seemed to gather himself.
"But I can’t wait this out without making sure you know how much I wanted to accept what you offered that day."
Crowley almost didn’t want to allow himself to believe what he was hearing. "Really?"
"More than anything."
Crowley had to close his eyes for a moment. Damn Aziraphale for having the ability to say such soul-shattering things with complete sincerity and then almost never doing it.
He regretted opening his eyes again almost immediately, because the heartbreak on Aziraphale’s face was almost unbearable.
"Oh Crowley, I wish… I wish things were different."
Which things Crowley didn’t need to ask, because there were one too many. If he thought about it for long enough, he could probably come up with a list spanning six thousand years.
It all boiled down to the simple wish that they would not be standing right there, unsure if they would get enough time to move past their mistakes.
He could feel his damned human body start to betray his emotions once again and moved to grab his sunglasses, but Aziraphale gently put a hand on his wrist.
Crowley immediately froze.
The gesture had brought Aziraphale just one small step closer to him - and because they’d been standing right next to each other already, that felt like a mile.
Aziraphale sighed; his eyes lingered on where he was touching Crowley. Crowley wondered if he was also thinking of the last time they’d talked like this, when Aziraphale hadn’t stopped him from reaching for his glasses. Crowley wondered, and also didn’t want to know, if Aziraphale had realised that that had been Crowley’s breaking point.
When Aziraphale looked into his eyes, Crowley had a split second to wonder how he was supposed to interpret the resolve on his face.
Then, Aziraphale moved forward and kissed him.
It was unbearably gentle, and because Aziraphale was still only lightly holding on to his wrist and his other hand, Crowley had ample opportunity to pull away.
He didn’t. He let himself be kissed, entirely focused on the sensation of Aziraphale’s lips on his and hoping his shaking wasn’t too noticeable.
When Aziraphale pulled back, there was a tentative smile on his face.
Crowley swallowed, gathered himself with a tremendous amount of effort. "I want us to have more time, too. I want…"
Eternity.
It seemed like even the possible end of their existence wasn’t enough to enable Crowley to say that word. Luckily, this time Aziraphale heard what he didn’t say.
"Yeah," Aziraphale whispered, and there was only sadness in his voice. "Me too."
For a moment, they just stood there, taking each other in, letting themselves see the other person’s pain and beginning to understand it for the first time.
There was not a single sound in the bookshop, which made the weight of their understanding even heavier.
"Does anyone want some tea?"
Four sets of eyes stared at Muriel.
"I recently learned how to make it. It’s really nice."
Crowley neglected to point out that everyone in this room had already had tea, and that they also had bigger things to worry about - he was well aware that him and Aziraphale had probably made the rest of the room feel so awkward that someone would have had to break the situation eventually.
"That’s really kind of you," Aziraphale said. "I would love some tea."
Muriel immediately scurried off, so hurriedly that Crowley knew he and everyone else in the room would be drinking that cup of tea, whether they wanted to or not.
"Is there anything else we can do?" Maggie asked. It was clear that there wasn’t, not really. Thanks to her and Nina, they’d managed to quickly put up summoning circles below all doors and in front of the main entrance, ready to be activated should the need arise. Crowley wondered whether they should’ve involved Nina and Maggie at all - it clearly would not put them on Heaven or Hell’s good side. But then again, if their plan didn’t work, the divine forces would come for all humans, not just them.
"Bring down the fire extinguishers, will you?"
Crowley frowned at Aziraphale. "Fire extinguishers?"
There was that slightly manic smile that Crowley had grown more fond of than he would ever admit. "They’re quite handy in an emergency!"
And so they ended up spread out through the salesroom of the bookshop, with a cup of tea each, abandoned on a shelf or table nearby, and fire extinguishers lying around in all corners.
Sometimes, their eyes would wander out of the windows, before remembering that that wouldn’t do them any good. If they were discovered, there was little they could do.
It was an unpleasant process, waiting.
Every so often, Crowley would make the mistake of looking in Nina’s direction, and the knowing smirk dancing around the corners of her mouth made his mood sour immediately. Really, they might be overrun by two armies at any possible moment (though that Hell would even be organised enough to scrape together an army, Crowley sincerely doubted), and Nina’s primary concern seemed to be that she’d been right after all. It also made slight embarrassment curl in his gut, though it wasn’t nearly strong enough to cut through his desire to be as close to Aziraphale as possible while they still could. Which, in turn, only made Nina’s not-so-subtle judgement even worse.
And yet, despite the embarrassment, and the danger he was facing, Crowley could only feel grateful he’d realised what was going on right before it was too late. If he hadn’t, they would be on opposite sides of a battle right now, with neither him nor Aziraphale having any choice in the matter (how could Crowley ever raise a hand against humanity, in support of Heaven and Hell’s ridiculous sibling rivalry, and Aziraphale had been well and truly held in place by both clever manipulation and the Book of Life being dangled above his head like Damocles’ Sword).
For a few hours, they didn’t speak. Sunlight slowly started to make its way through the streets of Soho. The bookshop was drenched in golden early morning light, a grotesque backdrop for the second apocalypse, and that made it easier to believe, that they’d finally gotten away.
The tension gradually dissipated, though no one wanted to be the one to break the silence. In the end, it was Mr. Brown, that shopowner Crowley had a slight distaste for, who walked through the front door of the bookshop with absolutely no care in the world.
"Ah, Aziraphale, I was just wondering if -" He stopped in the middle of the room, just then taking in the absolute state of the bookshop. "Uh, what’s going on here?"
"Oh," Muriel said, before any of them had a chance to intervene, "We’re just waiting for the end of the world."
Mr. Brown stared at them. "What?"
"We’re just having a morning round of tea," Aziraphale said quickly. "What is it that you wanted to say?"
Mr. Brown eyed the fire extinguishers and the circles full of runes and symbols. His face cycled through confusion, fear, then acceptance, before he said, "I just wanted to see if you would be willing to ah, host another shipowners association meeting… but you seem to be quite busy here so, uh, maybe not."
Aziraphale looked like he was inclined to protest, but his eyes followed Mr. Brown’s gaze around the bookshop and kept quiet.
Mr. Brown gave them a last, slightly forced smile and walked out of the bookshop (much, much faster than when he’d come in).
"So, does this mean it’s over?" Nina asked carefully.
Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other. Crowley saw the hesitation in Aziraphale’s expression that he was feeling himself; it was difficult to accept that after many millennia, they were finally free to just be themselves. It felt as though they ought to keep holding their breath, looking over their shoulders and stay ready for a fight. But they had been doing that for four years now, always keenly aware that the truce they achieved - and thereby their entire existence - was so fragile it could crumble at any moment.
It was no state Crowley had any interest of being in any longer. Enough was enough; they had to move on now or they never would.
"Yeah," Crowley whispered, entirely focused on Azriaphale. "I guess it is."
Aziraphale smiled back at him.
Smitten, I believe…
"Well," Nina said loudly. "I’m gonna go open my shop."
"So will I," Maggie added immediately. "Muriel, wouldn’t you like to come help me?"
Muriel, bless them, had no idea what Nina and Maggie were doing; they jumped at the opportunity to discover how other human shops worked and was the first out the door. Crowley pretended not to notice Nina’s pointed look in his direction.
And then they were alone, truly alone for the first time since that fateful day.
"So," Crowley said, and he had to force himself to speak because it was one thing for Aziraphale to kiss him when it might be his last chance to do so, and quite another for Crowley to ask him to stay with him for the third time after getting rejected twice. "What happens now?"
Aziraphale just looked at him for a moment, searching for something in Crowley’s expression, or maybe rather in himself. Then, he visibly steeled himself.
"Ask me again," he said, and Crowley felt his whole body seize at those words.
Crowley tried to speak but found that he couldn’t; the pain of I can’t be seen fraternising and I forgive you put a noose around his neck and it was impossible to push words past the obstruction.
He saw something in Aziraphale’s expression break at his silence. Slowly and carefully, as if not to spook him, Aziraphale lifted a hand to Crowley’s cheek.
"Please," he whispered. "Ask me."
Crowley swallowed, felt his skin move against Aziraphale’s fingertips. "Do…" Damn him, this really got harder with every time he had to do it. "Would you like to come with me?"
There was that soft smile he loved so much, growing on Aziraphale’s face as easy as ever. "Yeah."
But after everything that had happened, it seemed too simple. The noose was stubborn, refused to be dislodged so easily. "Yes?"
Aziraphale nodded, almost haltingly, as if Crowley would ever reject his yes. And he wouldn’t, didn’t think he would ever have the strength to, but he needed to know Aziraphale meant it.
"What about the bookshop?"
Aziraphale sighed, and yes, there was sadness in his expression, but his conviction was unwavering.
"Well, I believe Muriel has been doing quite remarkable job at running it." He hesitated, and Crowley could only silently encourage him to continue; words were, again, hard to bring into the open.
"And maybe, we could stay in the area? So we could visit, maybe?" Aziraphale offered, almost shy in his request.
Crowley could only nod. He probably would have agreed to anything Aziraphale asked of him in that moment, as long as the answer would keep being yes. "Yeah, of course."
Relief was making the knees of Crowley’s human body weak, and after six thousand years of keeping his distance, he felt the pull towards Aziraphale more keenly than ever.
Aziraphale seemed to feel similarly - or maybe he’d just read Crowley like a book, as he so often did - and so he couldn’t have said who moved first, only that they very quickly closed the distance between them and then, suddenly, he was being hugged for the first time in his existence.
It felt good, he decided after the initial shock settled and he was able to tentatively rest his arms on Aziraphale’s back. Like coming back home, finally somewhere he belonged. Nothing mattered except the feeling of Aziraphale in his arms and Aziraphale’s arms around him. At last, he finally allowed himself to believe that maybe, they would be allowed to exist after all.
***
However, when they were stepped into the car, it immediately became apparent that they had not thought this through.
"So uh, just to be clear, where are we going, exactly?" Aziraphale asked, only a slight touch below the level of awkwardness he normally exhibited around people he was slightly afraid of.
Crowley shrugged and pretended he wasn’t keenly aware of the fact that most of what he cared about in his existence hinged on this very situation turning out right. "Uh, I’m not… Why don’t we just start driving, see where we end up?"
Suddenly, Aziraphale’s face lit up. "Don’t you have an apartment? Maybe we could start there."
Crowley winced. This was already not going well. "Well, I did. But that was part of my employment benefits, so when I quit…"
In any other circumstances, the mixture of shock and righteous indignation on Aziraphale’s face would’ve been quite and amusing sight for Crowley.
"You’ve been homeless for four years? Crowley! Why didn’t you say anything?"
Crowley shrugged. "I thought it was pretty obvious, I mean, I was driving around with all my plants in the car."
"And I thought you were just airing them out! Crowley, you can’t just keep something like that from me!"
Crowley was about to defend himself on the count of being unsure about the status of their relationship, but was caught up on the clearly even more ludicrous part of Aziraphale’s complaint.
"Hold on, why would I ever be airing out my plants?"
***
Thankfully, Aziraphale eventually moved past being upset about Crowley’s temporary state of homelessness and suggested a popular holiday destination down south that he’d heard a lot about and suggested they head there, just for the time being.
Crowley agreed, both because (despite everything) he had a strong desire to provide Aziraphale with everything he wanted, and because he didn’t have any other ideas. It was disconcerting, that after so long of first catering to Hell’s every whim while trying not to get caught hanging out with an angel and then desperately trying to preserve their fragile existence, there was nothing he strictly needed to do. And while he had always tended to just to what he wanted to do rather than what he was supposed to do, that was a great deal more difficult when there was nothing he was supposed to be doing in the first place.
And then there was the issue of them. They had always been easier than Crowley thought should ever have been possible. They had fallen into their friendship as though it was self-evident, and then fell in love without even noticing - it made their unease around each other even more uncomfortable.
The problem was that Crowley had not only noticed how their relationship had evolved, but acted on it with quite a sobering result, and he didn’t quite know how to go on from there. In all the human accounts, the story ended with the love confession because it was always requited and there was no question that they would live happily ever after. But that wasn’t how their story went.
The Bentley automatically settled into terribly pleasant classical music, but didn’t quite dare to offer Aziraphale sweets. Aziraphale didn’t say anything about Crowley’s speeding, and Crowley, in turn didn’t drive too far above the speed limit.
It was both of them reaching out, slowly finding their way across the rift that had been pulling them apart.
"Muriel found your plays," Crowley said eventually, because he knew half of Aziraphale’s concerns were probably still with the bookshop. "They were really enjoying them."
"Were they?" Aziraphale smiled at him. "That’s lovely to hear."
Crowley sent a Aziraphale a quick glance, enough to conclude that that smile was way too knowing. Still, he couldn’t help but add: "We could go back sometimes, to visit. I think they would be happy to see us."
"Sounds lovely," Aziraphale said, "But how about we settle in first? Find a nice place to stay, get to know the area, all that."
Crowley was immeasurably relieved to discover that he was relearning to fill in the gaps between them and hear what Aziraphale didn’t say.
Let’s worry about us first.
For the first time ever, at least as far as Crowley was able to remember, it was Aziraphale who pushed for that (and he would never admit to the way he felt his chest squeeze).
"You know, it really wouldn’t hurt if we kept some snacks in here," Aziraphale then said, and Crowley was so surprised at his sudden boldness that he only managed to splutter indignantly.
But it dissolved the tension between them a little - and as the city gave way to the suburbs and then to the countryside, familiarity started to settle back into the Bentley. Every so often, Aziraphale would point out a lovely field of flowers or a particularly nice front lawn and Crowley would pretend that he didn’t care about such things. The almost two hours that they drove southwards didn’t feel like two hours at all; time flew by as it used to.
When Aziraphale pointed out a house in the distance, standing alone at the far end of a gravel road, Crowley almost didn’t even want to stop driving.
"You sure we can just show up there?"
"Oh," Aziraphale said with that shrewd smile of his that always did unpredictable things to Crowley’s chest. "I think you will find that it’s… miraculously empty at the moment."
"Will I?" Crowley asked, matching Aziraphale’s mirth stroke for stroke as if nothing had ever happened. "Let’s see about that, shall we."
And so they did; parked the Bentley by the gate and walked up to the front door together with their hands just shy of touching.
Aziraphale opened the door for Crowley and motioned for him to step inside. Walking into the cottage was a strange feeling; Crowley had never seen the need for anything akin to decoration, and so he didn’t know what to do with the slightly out-of-fashion furniture, the lace and the botanical prints stuffed in every room he walked into.
But Aziraphale was visibly delighted by it, inspecting even the pillows on the sofa and the curtains in the reading room facing the garden.
Crowley just watched Aziraphale, because he was by far the most beautiful thing in the house. He could tell it made the angel feel slightly embarrassed, but he also couldn’t bring himself to stop.
"Well," Aziraphale said eventually, with only slightly forced casualness, "how about we go for a stroll, get to know the area? I could do with stretching my legs a bit."
In any other situation, Crowley would have protested the idea of any demon, much less himself, going for a stroll. As it was, he still felt like a wrong move on his part could push the entirely wrong button and so he merely said, "Yeah, why not. Lead the way, angel."
Objectively, it ended up being a very nice stroll. Aziraphale had, as it turned out, not just suggested the South Downs to fill the silence, but because it was a genuinely nice place to be. The late afternoon sun made the green hills glow in a warm, cozy light, and they only passed a handful of humans as they made their way through the fields and up the hill.
Even as unsure as things still were between them, Crowley caught himself smiling without even consciously telling the body to do so. Aziraphale was next to him again and they would finally not be bothered by Heaven or Hell anymore.
"Admit it," Aziraphale said when he caught Crowley’s smile. "This is a bit of fun."
Crowley would very much not admit that, but the truth of the matter was that he was more content than he’d been in a long time. There was even a tiny, treacherous part of his mind that was entirely convinced they could just stay here, for eternity, and he’d be happy.
That thought was as exhilarating as it was terrifying to him, and so he tried to focus his mind on safer topics. "I think we should head back soon. Looks like it’s gonna rain soon."
Aziraphale squinted up at the massive, dark cloud moving their way and shrugged. "Oh, come on. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just enjoy yourself for once."
Crowley was still powerless against Aziraphale’s prim, slightly bitchy tone and so he resigned himself to be rained on.
And he was, in fact, right about that cloud because a mere twenty minutes later, the sky opened up. It wasn’t even a slight drizzle; the cloud above them was dropping water like it was being violently shaken.
Crowley sighed, slightly annoyed but unwilling to let Aziraphale’s walk be cut short. "I’ve done weather recently, let me just -"
Aziraphale shook his head, and a slightly manic grin was Crowley’s only warning before Aziraphale grabbed his arm and started to run across the field, dragging Crowley with him.
Crowley let out and indignant yell. "What the -"
But Aziraphale didn’t even falter in his run, much less acknowledge that Crowley was not happy to be dragged along.
A short run later - thankfully, because Crowley was starting to feel the water on his skin - they got to a bus stop at the side of a road, which had a little hut for shelter next to it. Aziraphale led him there, looking way too happy with himself.
Crowley barely had time to process that giddy smile on the angel’s face before Aziraphale leaned in and he was being kissed.
Crowley had a very short moment of confusion - really, couldn’t they have just stopped the rain before -
Oh.
Oh.
Aziraphale’s lips were on his and Aziraphale’s hands were on his cheeks and they were kissing while rain was coming down on the little roof above their heads.
For the first time, they had time and the security of knowing they would be spending eternity together. There was no pressure, no threat, no conflict.
Hardly believing his luck, Crowley raised his hands to Aziraphale’s waist. In turn, Aziraphale pressed even closer to him.
Time slid by but Crowley hardly cared if it was seconds passing by, or minutes, or hours. When Aziraphale pulled back, it could’ve been days or weeks for all he cared.
There was an idiotic smile plastered on Aziraphale’s face, and Crowley felt his own do the same. He had the overwhelming urge to… to thank Aziraphale for doing this for him - or worse, blurt out something about love.
"Well," Aziraphale said, "I guess you were onto something. I still stand by Jane Austen though."
Then that absolute bastard took his hand, made it stop raining and led him back to the cottage.
Crowley’s head was spinning with what had just happened to him; he was helpless in the face of Aziraphale’s antics - had always been helpless to them, really, but now that he knew what it was like to love him openly and be loved in return, going along with whatever Aziraphale was doing was the only thing he was capable of.
All of a sudden, it was so much like it used to be; they fell into a rhythm like there had never been a blip in the past six thousand years. And yet, it was completely different because there was no pretending anymore. Each soft, happy, captivated look that one gave the other was returned in kind.
They held hands the entire way back to the cottage - neither of them even thought about letting go.
Sure, there was the knowledge persisting in Crowley’s head that they eventually would have to talk about what had happened in the bookshop that day, but he knew that Aziraphale would need more time, if he was open to talking about it at all. And in that moment Crowley was so happy that it was no hardship to push all of that aside.
That made it even more jarring when, upon entering the cottage, Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s hand and walked several paces away from him, hands on his hips. All of a sudden, that tension they’d carefully been dancing around had come back, and it made Crowley feel terribly untethered.
"Angel?" He asked carefully.
Aziraphale turned around to face him, his entire face set with determination. "I’m sorry."
Crowley had been preparing himself for a lot, but this wasn’t it. "Excuse me?"
"I’m sorry," Aziraphale said again. Looking at Crowley’s absolutely flabbergasted face, his expression softened. "There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I hadn’t hurt you so terribly."
Crowley just stared at him. He hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining how this conversation would go, mostly because until a few hours ago, he’d been under the impression that they would never talk about much of anything ever again. And their parting had seemed so final that when they were finally not on opposite sides anymore, he’d been prepared to just accept whatever Aziraphale would be willing to give him. If Aziraphale was never ready to address it, Crowley would have embraced that if it meant he’d get to keep him.
So this? Completely nonsensical.
Aziraphale sighed at his silence. "If that helps at all, I wanted to say yes to you. Oh Crowley, I can’t tell you how much I -"
"I’m sorry, too," Crowley blurted, before he had even fully thought through what he wanted to say. "That wasn’t the first kiss you deserved."
Aziraphale shook his head; there were tears gathering in his eyes. "You were just trying to get me to stay and I -"
Oh, hell, Crowley could feel his own eyes welling up in response.
"You were so brave that day," Aziraphale whispered. His eyes spilled over. "I’m sorry I couldn’t honour that, back then."
Though Crowley tried his best to hold them back, a few tears still ran down his cheeks.
"They were manipulating you. I just… Thank you for coming back to me."
After how close he’d come to losing Aziraphale, losing everything, the fact that they were both in this cottage, about to start their eternity together overshadowed everything else.
But maybe Aziraphale knew him even better than Crowley had given him credit for, or the wound Aziraphale had caused was still visibly bleeding, because next thing he knew, Aziraphale wrapped him up in a hug.
"I’m going to do everything I can to earn your forgiveness," Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley felt his whole body shudder in response.
He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale as tightly as he could, and they both cried on each other’s shoulders until their tears gradually began to slow.
"I want to spend eternity with you," Aziraphale said right next to his ear, and Crowley had to gather a tremendous amount of strength to not start crying again. "And we’re going to last forever if I have anything to say about it."
Crowley tightened his grip on Aziraphale in response, too overwhelmed to answer him. And so they held each other for a little while longer while they regained some of their composure.
And then Crowley realised the opportunity Aziraphale had presented to him on a silver platter.
"You know, I think a proper apology would be a good place to start earning that forgiveness."
Aziraphale untangled himself from their embrace and stared at him, incredulous.
"Crowley, you can’t be serious."
Crowley raised his eyebrows pointedly.
Aziraphale heaved a deep sigh, clearly not happy about it but also being unable to refuse him. "Fine. I guess I’ve earned it."
Crowley had to bite back a smile at Aziraphale performing their little dance for him, both because it was a little gratifying to hear that he had been right, thank you very much, and because Aziraphale had had to do it often enough at this point that his moves were quite practiced.
"Very nice," Crowley said, and couldn’t help adding, "You’re getting quite good at this."
And there was it again, that annoyed but slightly fond expression on Aziraphale’s face that told him they were going to be alright.