Work Text:
They’ve got their plan in place. Put their heads together and thought it up while still on the bus. Neither is certain it will work, but it’s the best they can do.
Crowley gives a Aziraphale a quick tour of his flat, checks his plants, then calls “You can join me, if you feel like sleeping,” over his shoulder with as casual a tone as he can muster before falling against the mattress, slipping beneath the covers, and miracling himself into some pajamas.
Aziraphale does join him. Partly because he doesn’t want to just sit up alone in Crowley’s flat, and partly because he does feel like sleeping, and partly because he just wants to be close to him. He lays there, staring though the dark at the ceiling, running scenarios through his head of how tomorrow will go. How he hopes tomorrow will go. He tries not to think about the body swap not turning out well. He tries not to think about all the things he’ll miss. He tries not to think about all the things he’s never done.
“Crowley?” He whispers. “Are you still awake?”
No answer, not even a little movement.
Aziraphale cautiously turns so he faces Crowley’s back, slowly lays one arm across his middle. His heart is beating fast and he’s thinking about what explanation he’ll give if they wake up this way in the morning when-
“Yeah, I’m awake.” Crowley, quick as a snake, has Aziraphale’s hand in his grasp before the angel can jerk away in surprise. “I didn’t say you should move.” He sounds half-asleep, words coming out slowly.
“I-“
“It’s fine. Could be our last night on earth, after all. A little cuddling would make anyone feel better, mm?” Crowley turns so they lay face to face, drapes his own arm over Aziraphale’s side. “What’s on your mind, angel? Worried about tomorrow?”
“Of course I am. What if-” He takes a breath, studies Crowley’s features in the dim light. It’s sort of funny, how trying not to think about something makes it the only thing you can think about. “Thousands of years on earth and there’s still so much I haven’t done.”
Crowley smirks. “You’re upset you haven’t finished your bucket list?” His fingers draw idly against his side. “What haven’t you done?”
Aziraphale closes the few inches between them, presses their lips together gently. “That,” he whispers, keeping his eyes shut.
After a moment of silence, “We’ve kissed before. When it was just what people did.”
“It’s not what people do now though, is it? And not in this situation.” Aziraphale runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, cups his face.
“No, I suppose not.” Crowley gaze flicks from his eyes to his lips and back. He leans close and once again it’s Aziraphale who closes the distance.
It’s longer, slower, all soft lips and softer exhales. An equal and unhurried give and take. Hands brushing against faces, carding through hair, pressed firm between shoulder blades to keep them held close.
Crowley breaks away first, but just barely. He’s trying not to smile to openly, but he can feel his traitorous lips curving into a grin. “Alright. We haven’t kissed like that before,” he admits, eyes twinkling at Aziraphale’s light laugh.
“What about you?” Aziraphale asks quietly. “Anything you’ve wanted to do?”
A low hum, a tilt of his head as he thinks. Crowley pulls the covers tight around them and shuffles down so his face is pressed against Aziraphale’s chest.
“I want… to fall asleep like this. In your arms.” He looks up through his lashes at the blonde. “Is that okay?”
“Oh, Crowley… I’d be happy to.”
Aziraphale waits until his breathing has become even and slow. He waits until all the tension has drained from his limbs. He waits until he is sure this time that Crowley is asleep, to murmur against the top of his head, “I love you.”
Crowley smiles and presses ever so slightly closer.