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For a minute it’s just the three of them: himself, Crowley and the boy, Adam, standing in the vast eternity of white sand. Aziraphale stretches out his wings, briefly realising that this was probably the first time he’s done so in the past six thousand years, and watches Crowley do the same movement with his own, raven black pair that mirrors his white ones. Yet again Aziraphale notices just how well black colour suits his demonic counterpart, highlighting the brightness of Crowley’s eyes especially well.
They don’t have much time (ironically, since it was stopped to give them this very moment) so both him and Crowley go into the description of what (or Who) is coming for them, and what Adam can and must to prevent it. The boy, although young, looks at them almost wisely, and nods. Aziraphale knew that the world was in good hands. He raises his flaming sword and takes Adam’s right hand in his own – a gesture that promised support and undeniable loyalty. He glances upwards and catches Crowley’s fiery gaze locked on himself, some indescribable emotion hidden behind it. Aziraphale smiles nervously, just for a moment. Crowley smirks in return. It’s the last thing they do before the sands disappear and time resumes, bringing the trio back into reality.
Back in the world-after-the-almost-end-of-the-world Aziraphale watches as Adam faces his Father and is unwillingly shocked by the boy’s strength when facing the beast. The angel hears Crowley’s voice encouraging the Antichrist, telling him to not stop now, and it seems as if only then Aziraphale remembers about demon’s existence.
With Adam gone from the space between them, stepping to the front to face the Satan, it would seem logical that both Angel and Demon would be left standing some metre apart from each other. However, Aziraphale should’ve probably known better than to rely on logic at this point. Or better yet, to not underestimate the bond that seemed to have been created between himself and Crowley.
Letting out a shaky breath, Aziraphale experimentally adjusted his left palm, that was enclosed in the warm, almost Hellishly so, grip of Crowley’s hand. The demon either didn’t notice the gesture, or decided to pointedly ignore it, however not letting go of his ally’s palm. Aziraphale blinked, looking sideways at the man beside him. Crowley seemed (or pretended) to not notice the gaze of the pair of warm grey eyes, instead looking directly ahead, where Satan was not slowly disappearing into the void, casted away by his own son.
Aziraphale signed, almost disappointedly, and followed Crowley’s gaze. Everything was back in place. The war was prevented, the lives and destinies of humanity were restored, and Adam could finally live a life of a normal child, just like he deserved.
Suddenly, he felt a soft tug on his palm, and Crowley’s hand enclosing it even more in his own, carefully attempting to interlace their fingers. The blonde man looked up from them, curiously inspecting Crowley’s face. The demon’s eyes behind the lenses of the sunglasses were bore into his own, a smile playing on the man’s lips.
Running a finger across the top of Aziraphale’s palm, Crowley took a breath.
“It’s all over,” almost said Crowley, but the angel smiled before he could.
“It’s only just began,” thought Aziraphale to himself, taking a small, but determined step closer to his demon.