Archive of Our Own ^beta

But now it was gone, consumed by flames just like everything else in his precious shop. Despite his prized collection of first edition bibles and autographed prophecy titles, that loss was the one that broke his heart the most . It frustrated him. Books hundreds of years old apparently didn't hold as high a position as that suitcase. And with recent events, there shouldn't be another facet of himself or the universe that should be up for debate . There was too much already, with heaven coming after him for daring to interfere with The Divine Plan. But despite that, Aziraphale couldn't help but look at Crowley, as he unlocked the door to his flat, and think about his argument . There's the Divine Plan, but what about The Ineffable Plan? Did The Ineffable Plan say anything about an angel and a demon living on Earth for 6000 years helping to save the world and then spending a night together in a sleek flat in London ? Surely , the Powers That Be didn't think of the tiniest little details such as how the door silently opened and the echo from the click of Crowley's heels as he stepped inside. 

"Here we are. 'Mi casa es su casa'."

Aziraphale's brows pinched together as he took his first step into the flat. "I don't know if that's-"

"Relax. Figure of speech." Crowley continued talking as he walked to what looked like the kitchen. "You want anything? Tea? Booze? I know what I'm gonna have, after that whole...debacle."

"Well, I suppose if you're offering," Aziraphale took a few steps towards the voice. "Would you have any wine?"

Crowley peeked around the corner, his brows furrowed into a scowl. "What kind of question is that? Of course I've got wine! Red or white?"

"Red." Aziraphale said with no hesitation.

"Right. Now sit down, that's what the couch is for." Crowley disappeared back into the kitchen, murmuring among the sound of bottles clanking against each other .

As Aziraphale looked around, left alone to his own thoughts, it surprised him to see how neat Crowley's home was . He was ashamed to admit it, but the angel would never have imagined a spotless floor, walls with very little decoration to liven up the grey space, and a leather couch facing a coffee table that looked as if it was never used . Actually, Aziraphale swore he could see his reflection when he looked into it. It was so clean. Too clean, in fact. It made him a little uneasy. Years living in a shop stuffed to the brim with books, finding homes in every nook and cranny, would do that to you. When he gets back, he should really-

No. Right. That's a problem. Can't clean anything that isn't there anymore.

There was a pop, followed by the satisfying sound of alcohol pouring into an empty glass. At this moment, it was better than anything Beethoven or Mozart could have produced in their lifetimes . Aziraphale finally sat down on the couch, sinking into the cushions and sighing as he relaxed into them . Just as he was getting settled in, a clink on the coffee table brought him back to reality as the host sat down next to him.

"Been meaning to try this one. Kind of zinfandel from California."

"California, eh?" Aziraphale picked up his glass, sniffing it before taking his first sip.

"Yeah. I've never been, personally ." Crowley gulped down his wine, not leaving any time for savoring the taste like Aziraphale was. "Speaking of California, was the Internet one of yours?"

Aziraphale raised a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know, the Internet! World Wide Web, emails, instant messaging, sites where you click a button and you either get cat videos or someone falling down a funny way ."

"Oh, that." He thought for a moment. "You know, I can't recall."

"I don't know, either." Another gulp. "Must be another point for the humans."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He took another sip, letting the flavor sweep over his tongue and down his throat. "This is quite good."

"It is, yeah. Glad I got it."

"Where did you get this, if not California?"

"Online shop. Heard the people in Silicon Valley enjoyed their expensive things, so I thought I might give it a try."

"How much did you spend?"

"Too much for just one bottle." Crowley picked up the bottle, examined the label once more, then filled his glass to the brim. "Did you ever buy something online?"

"Afraid not. I'd have to get a credit card, for one."

"Proud of credit cards." He hummed. "Easy for humans to forget about how much they're spending when their money is all on a piece of plastic."

"I'd rather hang on to physical money. Coins and bills are just fine."

"Fair enough."

They sat in silence, enjoying their wine, letting the alcohol cloud their minds bit by bit. While  Crowley poured Aziraphale his second glass, the angel watched as red liquid filled the empty space and settled there . In the middle of their silence, the sound of wine being poured was as loud as an orchestra tuning their instruments before a show . As Aziraphale finished his second glass, Crowley started pouring his fourth. It was getting harder for Aziraphale not to say anything, but he couldn't resist the urge any longer.

"Wouldn't you rather take your time with that, Crowley?"

"Time?" Crowley scoffed. "We won't have any time left, angel. You were there, you should know what's going to happen next."

Aziraphale's expression darkened, staring into his wine. "Yes. I don't see how this could work out for either of us. At worst, we would..."

He didn't dare finish his sentence. Crowley couldn't find it in himself to finish it, either. As far as they knew, this would be their last night on Earth. The last night of freedom, more like. They had a blast, but like all good things, they must come to an end at some point. It's amazing how fast 6000 years flew by.

"We both knew it was going to come." Crowley swished the wine around in his glass. "It was inevitable. Everyone in Hell's going on about how glorious it would be, to take back our spot among the divine and overthrow them . Show them what it means to be cast aside like garbage."

Aziraphale looked over, unconsciously leaning towards Crowley as he listened. "Did you believe that?"

"Of course I believed it! How could I not? But then it actually starts happening, I just had to get the gears turning and that would be that."

"There's nothing wrong with following orders, Crowley."

"Well, it felt wrong. I still feel wrong." Crowley leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch. "I thought about putting a bunch of rocks into the basket and throwing it into a river. Knew somebody would find out, though."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, his voice tinged with worry. "You wouldn't actually do that, would you? Drown a newborn?"

"I'm just speaking my mind, angel. That's what was running through my head at the time." He took a small sip of wine before continuing. "I don't see why you have to criticize me, you're the one who tried to shoot the Antichrist today."

Aziraphale stammered out his reply. "What's that saying? Desperate times call for desperate measures?"

"I remember a certain someone saying that they wouldn't dare harm another living being. But there you were, ready to fire at a child to stop everything."

"It's not like you would've stopped me. I'm sure killing the child was originally your idea."

Crowley grinned, sending chills up Aziraphale's spine. "The good of the many outweighs the good of the few."

"Or the one."

"Right. Right."

Another silence wasn't far behind after Crowley finished his glass. This time, it hung in the air like swarms of flies, buzzing and making itself known to the two that it was there. And it was taking all their strength to shoo it away. Aziraphale was searching for something, anything to get their mind off of today. It was difficult to not think of Death standing by, ready to squeeze every last breath out of every living thing he could find . He smelled of corpses, and it was a stench Aziraphale was hoping he would forget. He hadn't thought of that smell since 1941.

1941. When Crowley dropped a bomb on that church, blowing it and the Nazi spies to smithereens. They survived, thanks to Aziraphale's miracle, but it was Crowley who saved his books. His treasures were saved when he had forgot about them. When he got home, the angel had the suitcase emptied, his books in their rightful spots in his shelves. And he felt a warmth in his chest when he went to put the suitcase away. A smile managed to sneak its way onto his face. His cheeks burned, and he felt as if he was walking on the clouds, light and free. He never felt that way before, but he didn't hate it. Just the opposite, in fact. Every time he had to deal with a customer who couldn't take 'no' for an answer, whenever collectors vented their frustrations to him on the phone when he didn't have what they were looking for, that suitcase would still be there . All Aziraphale had to do was look at it, and he would remember those wonderful feelings again. All his stress would melt away, because he would remember the one who cared for him the most in this universe.

And now it was gone. The suitcase, the table it rested on, the shelves filled with knowledge of another time, the flames had swallowed everything . Aziraphale could never look at that suitcase, never reminisce about that day again. And he could never feel that light and carefree feeling ever again. There wasn't any more time for that. A drop of water falls into Aziraphale's wine, quickly followed by another one.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale blinked, feeling something wet slide down his cheeks as he looked at Crowley with a weak smile . "Oh, sorry, my dear boy. I was...lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?"

"Not a word." Crowley's gaze softened as he looked into the angel's deep blue eyes. "You just started crying all of a sudden."

"Crying?"

With another blink, another tear fell down, but Crowley caught it before it could reach Aziraphale's jawline . The pieces fit into place, and Aziraphale desperately wiped at his eyes.

"Oh dear!" He stammered. "I-I'm so sorry! This is so embarrassing, I apologize for troubling you like this!"

"You think expressing your feelings is troubling to me?" Crowley sighed, placing his glass on the table.

"Well, you invited me here." Aziraphale cleared his throat, keeping his smile through his rambling. "And now you're seeing me like this, you're already stressed enough by yourself, you don't need me to bring you further anxiety!"

"I'm stressed because you're stressed, angel. Actually, it looks like more than stress." Crowley studied his face carefully . "Looks more like...you're grieving."

"Grieving?" Aziraphale sniffled.

"Yeah." Crowley should have had a box of tissues nearby. That was a mistake on his part. "Makes sense. Your bookshop just burned down, and you've had that for a couple centuries now, right? People grieve when they lose something important to them."

"Oh..." It did make sense. But compared to other emotions, this one was ugly, and it was too difficult to forget about and move on. All that effort building one of the best collections in the world, and it was gone in one fell swoop. But this explanation didn't satisfy the angel. Why not? Would this be another question he couldn't get an easy answer for? Just put it on the pile with the others, there's a good lad.

"I'm sorry. If I was there, I could've-"

"Oh, stop it." Aziraphale interrupted. "It's not your fault. Things happened that were out of your control."

"I chose to leave you, though. That's a choice I made."

There was a harsh pause. "Yes. But in the end, you came back." He placed his empty glass on the table next to Crowley's. "Changed your mind about Alpha Centauri?"

"I wouldn't say it's that. It's more like," he clicked his tongue, "there's only so many conversations you can have with yourself before you sound like a broken record ."

"The same could be said with two people."

"But here we are. 6000 years, and we've been anything but broken." Crowley adjusted himself to face Aziraphale. "When's the last time we went to Rome?"

"Oh dear." Aziraphale mumbled, searching his memories. "41 AD. We had oysters."

"Yeah. And Shakesphere?"

"Yes, we saw Hamlet."

"Before it was popular."

That managed to get a small chuckle from Aziraphale. "That's right, thank you for reminding me."

"And remember that time you popped over to France just for some crepes?"

"During the French Revolution, I remember." How could he not remember the feeling of the metal cuffs digging into his wrists? Not one of his best moments, he will admit. "Is there a point to all this?"

"What I'm trying to say," Crowley's voice softened, taking Aziraphale aback. In all these years, he had never seen his friend's eyes with such a glow of compassion as he looked at him. "We've been through all this since the garden. We've managed to put up with each other for this long. Why should it stop because the world is ending?"

Aziraphale gulped. The eyes were beginning to sting again, but he wasn't sad. Far from it. You only cry when you're sad, that's the rule. But there he was, letting the tears fall and stain his coat.

"I've been thinking about finding the edge of the universe, if there even was an edge. That would have been my big project if the Apocalypse came about. Find the edge, and if possible, cross it." Crowley paused, scowling as he reached a hand to Aziraphale's cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Aziraphale quietly gasped for air. He never realized how warm Crowley's hand was. This was the first time he reached out and touched him, and it made Aziraphale's heart soar.

"So tell me, Crowley." He should back away. This wasn't right. But the angel found himself leaning into Crowley's hand. As long as the tears kept falling, there was no reason to back away. He was too much of a mess to take care of them himself, it seemed. "What do you think is beyond the universe?"

"Don't know. Can't even begin to imagine what's waiting there." He bit his bottom lip, his free hand trembling on his knee. "But I know this. It'd be awful lonely if I was the only one who knew what was there."

Aziraphale's throat tightened. His cheeks burned. There was only one other moment he felt like this, and it was lost to the passage of time. And as he looked into Crowley, smiling so genuinely and with so much affection, Aziraphale couldn't help but let out a laugh . "I didn't realize you could be such a charmer, my dear!"

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm joking!" A sudden weight crashed into Aziraphale, sending him onto the couch cushions with Crowley looking down at him with a playful smirk . "That's rather foolish of you, angel!"

"Crowley, I-," Aziraphale tried to stifle his laughter, but utterly failed as he continued speaking through giggle fits . " I think you've been watching too many of those romcoms again!"

"I speak my mind and you think I stole this from a movie?" He growled, but Aziraphale knew him too long to know that this wasn't real anger or frustration. This was one of the games he liked to play, and the angel was willing to play along. "For that, you're stuck with me 'till we reach the edge of the universe! And once we find that, we'll find another one, and find the edge of that! For all eternity!"

Aziraphale feigned surprise, gasping as dramatically as he could. "You don't really mean that!"

"Oh, but I do! And there's nothing you can do to-to stop me!"

Crowley lost it. He burst into laughter, and Aziraphale quickly followed behind. And for once, Aziraphale didn't try to stop himself from enjoying this time with Crowley. He was free to laugh, free to look up at Crowley as he rested his forehead onto his. Finally, he was free to look into his eyes and let himself forget the world for just a moment. As far as he was concerned , there was only the two of them in this world. He wouldn't have it any other way. Even if it was only for tonight, he was free from heaven's watchful eyes.

Which is why he didn't bother to try and stop himself from expressing himself like this. Since 1941, Aziraphale had always wanted to do this. He leaned up towards Crowley and kissed him, tasting the wine lingering on his lips. Crowley was so warm, Aziraphale didn't want anything to stop this moment. But feeling his partner tense up, he backed away, his eyes searching his expression for any hint of what was wrong .

"I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me, I-"

"When are you going to stop apologizing?" Crowley scoffed, his cheeks flushed. "Gonna keep a 'sorry jar' for you. Make you put a pound in when you say you're sorry."

Confused, Aziraphale chose his words carefully . "Are you not...upset with me?"

"Upset?" Crowley blinked, his harsh expression quickly changing to a more relaxed one. He smiled warmly . "Why would I be upset ? Just surprised me, that's all."

"But-"

"If anything, I'm..." He gulped. "I'm proud of you."

Aziraphale blinked. "Proud?"

"Yeah. You're actually expressing yourself instead of keeping it all inside! Now I know you-" He caught himself and froze.

Might as well finish his thoughts for him. "I love you, Crowley."

A second passed of Crowley staring down at Aziraphale blankly, letting the statement loop through his head like it was stuck in an echo chamber. Like a child on Christmas morning, Crowley's eyes brightened as he tackled Aziraphale into a hug . "Yes, that's it! Say it again!"

"What?"

"Say it!! I love you, say it back to me! I love you!"

"I...love you?"

"I love you!"

"I love you."

"Yes, that's perfect! Well done, angel, well done!"

This wasn't teasing. Aziraphale knew what Crowley's teasing sounded like. This was joy, no strings attached. Crowley was vibrating with happiness.

After a few moments, Crowley took a deep breath, calming himself but keeping that same excited look about him . "It's about damn time."

Aziraphale smiled back. "That did feel nice. I feel like...like..."

"Like a weight has been lifted off your chest?"

"How can that be? You're still laying on top of me."

"Figure of speech."

"Right." He should have a guide on all these sayings and metaphors. 6000 years on Earth and you think he would learn.

"But you get it now, right? No need to censor yourself. No need to think about what heaven wants you to do and what they're going to think of you. They're out of the picture."

"You know that's not true, Crowley." He frowned as he listened to him. That's right. Heaven is going to want nothing to do with him after his whole outburst, most likely.

"So from now on, you will say whatever pops into your head, no matter how blasphemous or crazy it sounds." Finally, Crowley sat up, picking the glasses off the table. "You in the mood for anything else?"

Aziraphale thought to himself, still laying on the couch as he processed this way of life presented to him . "Vodka."

Crowley laughed. "Fair enough! Stay right there, I'll go get some."

"Alright."

"Oh, and Aziraphale?"

He looked up to Crowley, standing over him. "Yes?"

Crowley leaned down, and before Aziraphale could protest, his lips were pressed against his . It wasn't harsh like he thought it would be. It was gentle, a kiss that let the two go as far as they wanted to go. Without missing a beat, to let Crowley's warmth consume his thoughts, Aziraphale devoted himself to the kiss . Even in his imagination, he never thought something as simple as a kiss would have such a deep impact. He didn't want to back away, he wouldn't dare. Everything was building up to this moment, and he was going to live in it for as long as he could.

But the moment was gone as Crowley backed away. Aziraphale could feel a whine climb up his throat.

"A real kiss lasts more than five seconds. Any less than that, it's a smooch." Crowley explained, keeping a straight face. But it was hard not to see the mischief in his eyes. That bastard, he knew Aziraphale was willing to keep going!

"Why must you torture me like this? I thought you said you wanted me to express myself!" He brought his hands up to his face in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

"Relax. There's more where that came from." Crowley turned to the kitchen and made his way over. " Just be patient!"

That's what he had been doing for all these years, thought Aziraphale. But even then, he was willing to wait have one more kiss, to bathe in those warm feelings again. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes and feeling himself melt at the thought of Crowley embracing him . And for once, he wasn't embarrassed or ashamed at these feelings. No, this was pride. Crowley was all his, and Aziraphale was the luckiest angel in the world for that.