Chapter Text
Aziraphale knew his fate was set when a demon with hair like hellfire tried to stab him with his own sword, and instead of cowering in fear or slaughtering him, he bandaged the demon’s wound and sent him off without even accepting a thank you.
The war was over at that point, and the angels had turned their backs and left him alone for a short while. As he looked over the universe, every nebula and star blooming brighter and brighter still, he had thought that nothing in all of eternity could ever be so beautiful.
And then there was the garden, and the rain, and him.
And after that meeting, he started to turn up everywhere, as if his only mission was to be wherever Aziraphale went.
How fitting, then, that their lives should end in a garden. A garden, with a tree, and an apple, and all the knowledge in the world just waiting to be released again.
Crowley was watching him. Of course he was. He always had, before, and it didn’t seem like he had the choice of stopping anymore.
Aziraphale hadn’t noticed his tears until Crowley cupped his cheek in his hands and brushed them away. Of course, why would he notice such inconsequential things? The only thing that could ever matter anymore was currently watching him with a smirk and watery eyes.
“Still too fast for you, eh?”
Crowley asked the question quietly, with a hollow laugh and a useless attempt to make all this better.
Aziraphale tilted his head into the cold hand cradling it.
“You were never too fast, Crowley. I… suppose I just didn’t realize how quickly forever would end.” The last words were choked out as he let out a quiet, empty sob.
Outside the bookshop, the universe coughed and choked and slowly faded away. The lights of the stars were gone. The only glow came from the lamp on Aziraphale’s desk.
Inside, Crowley stepped impossibly closer and held him tightly.
“To the world.” He mumbled.
“To my world.” Aziraphale responded.
They held each other for a long time, or perhaps for simply a minute. After all, time was not there to keep track anymore.
He did not know what was going to happen after this.
He was not really sure it mattered anymore. He was not really sure that he even mattered anymore.
But eventually, they pulled apart, just a little. “Crowley. I think it’s time.” He nodded, but said nothing. They were still so close, and yet Aziraphale leaned in just a bit closer.
“May I?” He asked, voice barely a whisper. That was all he could manage. Crowley gave a slow, barely visible nod.
When their lips pressed together, it felt like home.
How cruel. Aziraphale thought, in the back of his mind. How horrible, to show me my home right when I am about to lose it.
6000 years of grief and love, hatred and friendship, and every awful, wonderful thing that came as a result of choosing ‘their side’, flowed between them in that slow exchange of breath.
But eventually, they broke apart.
“I forgave you a long time ago.” Crowley said matter-of-factly.
Aziraphale squeezed his hand.
“You always do.” He replied.