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Midnight had come and gone for the rest of London but seemed to forget a certain angel and demon who sat in a flat above a certain used bookshop. The pair had returned from their Paris honeymoon five days ago and had, at the moment, neither a care in the world nor a negligible amount of vintage French wine in their systems.
Aziraphale paused a rambling story to take a long drink of wine, wondering how long Crowley’s eyes had been fixed on his own. He swallowed thickly. “Dear? Ev’rything okay?”
“Wull, angel, uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” the demon trailed off, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I’ve been ‘fraid to but s’ppose now’s as good a time as any.”
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “What is it, my darling? Y’know you can tell me anything.”
Crowley nodded shortly and set down his wine glass. “I’ve been thinking about th—this—you ’n’ me,” he began, motioning between himself and Aziraphale. “And I realized, uh, basically, angel, ‘m veeeery inlovewithyou ‘nd have been since the—the garden with th’ sword”—he waved his hands to imitate fire—“when you gave th’ sword away.” He mimed handing the sword off and then stabbing with it, accompanying the motion with a stifled lion’s roar, which came out more as a gurgle. He slid bonelessly from his chair to sit on the floor. “But I’m—’ve been so scared to tell you, b’cause what if you didn’t?” He held up his hands in a shrug. “Then I’d be allll alone, ‘nd I couldn’t have that, ‘cause you’re ev’rything to me, angel, y’know?”
Aziraphale had been watching his husband with a hand covering his mouth, trying to stifle his enamored giggles. When Crowley fell silent, he leaned forward in his chair and reached down to take the demon’s hands in his own. He stared into Crowley’s shining eyes, now so dilated that the yellow was covered almost entirely with black.
“My dear, my darling, love of m’ life,” the angel said with a sigh. Crowley’s breath hitched at his touch and he craned his neck up, studying the angel’s face with unfocused eyes. The angel’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I know you love me. We’ve been over this. I love you too. In fact, I married you.”
A flicker of recognition danced across Crowley’s face. “Ohh yeah, I knew that. I was there.”
Aziraphale gave him a smile so full of love for him and him alone that Crowley felt his heart grow hot in his chest. The angel leaned further forward and whispered, “and y’know, I still can’t believe I get to do this”—he pressed his lips against Crowley’s and felt the demon kiss back eagerly below him, and he continued to mumble against Crowley’s lips—“especially with such a beautiful creature, one whom I love and adore so.”
A thin whimper rose from the back of Crowley’s throat. Aziraphale broke off the kiss and kneeled down off his chair, coming to sit beside his demon. He reverently intertwined his hand with Crowley’s and sighed. “Love, we’ve got an eternity to do that. And to do ev’rything else we could ever want.” He dragged a hand down his flushed face, saying half to himself in pleasant disbelief, “And y’know how bloody long an eternity is?”
Crowley let out a short laugh beside him and kissed the back of his hand. “I think it’sss pretty long, angel.”
Aziraphale leaned his head on Crowley’s shoulder and giggled. “I do believe you’re right.”