Work Text:
He had loved Aziraphale since Eden. It was the bitter truth. It had started with no strike of lighting, no love at first sight leaving you breathless, no sudden revelation.
No, it had started with a spark of surprise, an interest. An 'I gave it away' that Crowley couldn't forget. His mind returned to that strange angel in the years that passed, wondering what had happened to him. As he saw him again there was this spark again, a flare of delight. Of course he went straight for him, curious what the disobedient angel had been up to since last time with a possible impending smiting only a passing thought.
The problem was that after seeing Aziraphale a few times with no smiting, Crowley found himself starting to look for him whenever he could, feel around with his powers if the angel was nearby. More often than not he was left disappointed and it hit him harder than he found it reasonable for it to do. It shouldn't matter. Seeing the angel was a treat, an opportunity to talk to someone that wasn't human, someone who didn't get distracted by his eyes. So why did his spirits fall when he couldn't sense the angel? It was beyond him and he couldn't for the life of him make heads or tails of it.
And then there were those awful moments...when he'd had a thrill of delight at seeing Aziraphale, and was quickly put down when he realised the feeling was not mutual. Moments when the angel would only give him a cold look, a stiff 'Crawly' as if whatever was going on was his fault. He never believed him when he told him no and for some reason it hurt more than anything like that had the right to. The distrust pained him and seeing Aziraphale treating him as unwanted was even worse. He would dwell on it for months, even years, until the next time they met and he would hesitate. Afraid to get hurt all over again, afraid that the angel wouldn't be happy to see him.
Sometimes he was and it were those moments Crowley lived for, what made the risk worth it.
The need to see Aziraphale only grew over the centuries into a sort of desperation and Crowley found himself going out of his way to find him, if only just to watch him from afar. He followed the angel as a silent shadow, keeping out of his way most of the time to avoid getting hurt before he knew the angel's mood. It was only after the Arrangement he could step out more often, even going so far as to make up assignments just to have a reason to meet.
During the centuries that followed he didn't know if Aziraphale suspected anything, but he soon found himself being used for the angel's benefit. Aziraphale kept wheedling blessings and miracles out of him just because he seemed to have realised he could, Crowley was unable to say no. The protests stuck in his throat on the way and he always did what Aziraphale wanted, always gave way even if he hated himself after it. He found himself defending his innocence with abandon whenever Aziraphale accused him of something and he got the impression that the angel started to believe him. Not always, but enough to make it bearable.
Crowley knew then that he had fallen so far there was no way for him to crawl back up. It was lost. After Millennia of trailing in the angel's wake, seeing him whenever he could, finding himself unable to cope without him, Crowley resigned to his fate. He gave up resistance. It was over. All he could do was go to Aziraphale whenever he called, fulfil his every wish, listen to him talk, watch him, always watch him to save him whenever the angel got himself into trouble. Like moth to flame he was drawn to him, doing everything that was in his power for Aziraphale even if it cost himself. His own needs became secondary, unimportant in the shadow of the angel. He felt like a miserable empty shell without Aziraphale, always waiting for that next time he would see him and when he did he never wanted to leave.
But he couldn't stay.
Then, when he was handed the anti-Christ, Crowley's carefully constructed shell of existence shattered. Suddenly he had to do something that would, ultimately rip him from Aziraphale and the possibility of both of them surviving was close to zero.
It is easy to panic when that one, single thing you live for is under threat and it only grew worse the closer they got to Armageddon, especially given how Aziraphale would lash out at him again and again. Every little victory was a fight where Aziraphale mistrusted him all along the way, fighting tooth and nail. The only comfort was that Aziraphale was not bothering with rendezvous points all the time, giving Crowley the opportunity to stay with him at the bookshop prolonging their time together. It was a tiny glimmer but it was better than nothing.
Then that last week arrived and Crowley's entire world was cracked open.
---
As the door closed behind Crowley and Aziraphale after they'd made their way from the Oxford bus, darkness fell in the hallway of the Mayfair flat. Crowley let out a slow, exhausted breath before he brushed against the light switch to turn spotlights overhead on.
"Oh." He glanced back to see Aziraphale look around, looking rather lost and out of place. The hallway was spacious with stone floor with heating, grey and white walls and a stylish coat rack holding up a hat and a trench coat. "This is..."Crowley motioned for him to follow and they stepped up into an apartment that looked taken from a magazine - all top of the line and ridiculously expensive. Made to look impressive. "I wasn't expecting your home to look this...well..."
"It doesn't," Crowley said wearily. "Come on, Angel." Aziraphale tentatively followed him, looking back on the living room with a huge sofa, furry carpets and the largest flat screen TV Crowley had been able to find. Instead, Crowley headed toward a door that was still swung open after he'd left in a hurry earlier that day.
Was it only earlier that day? It felt like a human lifetime ago.
"Wait," Aziraphale called out, fingers catching Crowley's sleeve. He stopped without looking around, feeling more resigned than ever at being unable to deny Aziraphale anything. Not even this. "I can smell Ozone. You didn't...?"
"I had to use it on Ligur, they came after me like I told you they would," Crowley said quietly, gazing at the spot where the melted demon had been. He'd expected it to be gone when they got back so it was. Apparently there were still traces of Holy Water left though. Aziraphale gasped.
"No!" Crowley more felt than saw Aziraphale pass him and hunker down in the doorway, palm flat against the spot where the Holy Water had been spilled. "I'm sorry. Oh Crowley," he looked up, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with guilt. "I shouldn't have let you out of my sight!" He looked back on the floor, the faint tingling feeling of a miracle in motion as he removed the stain. "You must have been terrified and I didn't realise...too wrapped up in myself as usual..."
"Out of my mind," Crowley confessed, bringing his hands up to remove the shades and rub the heel of his hand in his eyes. "Still, can't hold a candle to what happened next." Aziraphale got up, looking at him with concern as the demon passed him, letting the door fall closed.
"I know..."Aziraphale said unhappily, brows furrowed as he followed Crowley into what was, essentially, the real apartment. "Oh...this is...different..."he said, taking in the concrete walls, sparse but decadent furnishings, artworks and the luxurious plants striving up to large windows. It was dark now, spot lights in the walls giving out a faint light. "The rest was just a front?" he asked, tottering after the demon as he led further into the depths of the flat.
"Yeah," Crowley said, stopping to gaze at the angel who gazed back. Once more, Aziraphale's brows furrowed and he looked very worried.
"Oh you do look exhausted, my dear," he said, wringing his hands. Crowley let his shoulders sink.
"Absolutely gutted," he admitted, leaning back against the wall as his knees threatened to buckle. "Been one Hell of a day. I'm absolutely physically and emotionally...drained." Aziraphale nodded.
"It has, hasn't it," he murmured. "I suppose you would want to sleep?"
"Well if you need me to be of any use at all I need at least a few hours," Crowley muttered, then... "Angel. I know...I know you never..."he sighed, resignation heavy on him. "I know you never answer my requests but...couldn't you just this once? I'm too exhausted to dance around like we always do." Aziraphale looked down on his feet, swallowing audibly. His ears were reddening.
"Oh I am so sorry, dear..."he managed, and Crowley had the distinct feeling he was crying. "I never wanted you to feel that way." He looked up and Crowley could see his cheeks were wet, lips trembling. "Of course I will answer your request tonight," he whispered regretfully. "Anything, my dear." Crowley leaned back, turning his gaze to the ceiling.
"Could you sit beside me as I sleep?" he said softly, feeling detached and without any hope. "I thought I lost you today," he added, voice barely audible and so very, very fragile. He heard Aziraphale give out a forceful sob.
"Of course I can, dear," he said, voice wrecked with guilt. "Oh Crowley..."he could feel a hand find his and hold it tight. He was warm and dry. Relief seeped into weary bones and Crowley sagged against the wall. He let a grateful smile escape.
"Thank you."
---
A fish out of water among concrete walls and luscious greens, Aziraphale somehow managed to relax slightly once Crowley showed him to the kitchen and he had the opportunity to make tea. As far as Aziraphale was concerned, tea and a good book would get him comfortable just about anywhere. After he'd picked a book from Crowley's collection in the front flat (alphabetic order, all having been at top lists the last ten years) he traipsed after the demon into his den, which was really the only good description of where Crowley slept.
Crowley's bedroom was not really like any traditional human bedroom. It was more of a vault than a room, much like a safe room with a heavy door that was near impossible to break down from the outside. Inside it, the floor was nearly completely covered with a mattress filled with pillows and duvets of black and gold silk, save for a line of wood along the walls for placing wine glasses, tea cups or lamps.
"This is where you sleep...?"Aziraphale said as he slowly made his way along a wall to set down his tea as Crowley bolted the door. He waved his hand to change into pyjamas, vision swimming as he did. He wobbled and caught himself against the wall, cold sweat breaking out. "Oh dear, are you all right?"
"Yeah 'm fine," he managed. "Just so drained even small things make me dizzy." He took a few steps over the mattress until he crumpled into it near the spot Aziraphale had chosen for his teacup. "Keeps humans and most demons out," he said, curling up as Aziraphale lowered himself onto the cushions with his book. "Doesn't do much against the dukes, though, at least not without additional angelic barriers." Aziraphale smiled down on him, reaching out to gently caress Crowley's cheek. He drank in the small touch, grateful for it. It was more tenderness than he'd ever had.
"You only had to ask," the angel said warmly and Crowley felt tension unknot in his back as the walls shimmered briefly as the barriers were set up. Safe. At least for now and as long as no Primal Emanations decided to turn up, he doubted a Principalities' barriers would hold against them. Thankfully he had not met any since his Fall. "Try to sleep now, my dear. I will not go anywhere. I will keep watch."
"Thank you..."Crowley mumbled, pulling himself into something resembling fetal position - an imitation thereof since he had never been a foetus, but comforting nonetheless. He could feel the heat radiating from Aziraphale's thigh, the slight cool gusts of air as he flipped a page in his book. It was more domestic than anything he had experienced before and it helped him succumb to his exhaustion and slip into sleep.
Crowley's sleep was troubled and plagued by fires and an acute feeling of loss and he awoke shivering violently, drenched in sweat that was cold as it clung to his skin. It was a moment or two before he registered the hand gently carding through his hair, fingertips scratching slightly through the short hairs in his neck. He stilled and glanced up, yellow eyes meeting grey.
"Nightmares?" Aziraphale said softly and Crowley filled his aching lungs with air, letting it out slowly. His mouth felt parched after the wine he'd drunk before bed, tongue sticking to the roof of his palate. He licked his lips.
"Yeah," he grit his teeth. "After all that happened the last 24 hours, I..."Aziraphale nodded.
"I was of no help, either," he said sadly. "If anything I only fuelled your misery. I am beginning to realise that and I am so sorry dear. Can you ever forgive me for my abysmal behaviour?" Crowley unfurled slightly and Aziraphale lifted his hand briefly as the demon fumbled for a duvet. As he pulled it over him, the hand returned but was now caressing gently instead.
"I was never angry with you, angel," he said, aware that he sounded quite defeated. "Frustrated but not angry." Aziraphale pursed his lips, thumb swiping lightly over Crowley's damp forehead.
"By all means you should be," he said, an edge to his voice. "I have been...reflecting after what you said earlier, and as much as I am loathe to admit it, you are right." He sighed, lowering his eyes looking miserable. "You have always given me everything I wanted if it was within your power, but I have not returned those favours. The only thing I can think of is the Holy Water, and even then...my reasons were selfish..."Crowley watched as grey eyes closed, tears of guilt making their way down pale cheeks. He'd resigned himself to this simple fact such a long time ago, it felt so strange to hear Aziraphale speak about it...
"I never expected anything in return, angel..."he said after a few minutes and Aziraphale gave out a strangled cry, bringing his free hand up to his face as he cried even harder. Unsure what to do, Crowley dragged himself up into sitting position, Aziraphale's hand falling away from his hair. He knew Aziraphale's tears were not his fault, that he by all means should let him cry the guilt out.
It didn't make him feel any better though.
"Aziraphale," he tried gently and the angel hiccupped, wiping vainly at his tears with his hands. "Please..."Please don't cry? You couldn't ask someone that... What else was he requesting then? He didn't know.
"I have been such an awful friend..."Aziraphale cried, making a complete mess of himself. Crowley shivered, thinking of how he was really unsure what they really had. Was it friendship? Aziraphale had told him no only a day ago. But if they were not friends and he'd gotten it all backwards, then there was only one thing left.
There was an angel and a demon who could not for the life of him stop following him around like a lovesick puppy. The thought made his eyes sting. A horribly one sided thing that could never work. Someone who uses and someone who is used.
"Are we friends?" Crowley whispered, voice fragile as hand blown glass. Aziraphale looked up at this, slightly shocked out of his crying. His eyes met Crowley's in fear. "Only...you said..."Crowley started but couldn't find words. At this Aziraphale's breathing stuttered and he dropped the book from his lap, launching himself at the completely unprepared Crowley, shocking him by wrapping his arms tightly around him as he cried into his chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."Aziraphale cried over and over again, choking on his tears. Crowley's heart had problems handling this, his brain threatening to short-circuit. This was so far out of their routine he had no idea how to react. They didn't touch. It was one of those things that had always been a boundary none of them spoke of... A caressed cheek, fingers through hair was a large breach of that boundary. And this? And the crying distressed him greatly. He didn't want Aziraphale to be upset. He wanted him happy and smiling.
With Aziraphale trapping Crowley's arms to his sides, squeezing so hard it was constricting his breathing, Crowley found he was starting to panic. Then Aziraphale made it all so much worse as he let go, standing on his knees in front of him, so close Crowley could feel the warmth of him against his body. Too close. And then there were hot, tear wet hands over his cheeks, in his neck, Aziraphale's forehead against his.
"I should never have said that to you," the angel wailed, regret filling him up. "Of course we are friends, Crowley. Best friends. If you will still have me after all that I have done and I would not blame you if you don't... Not for a moment..."
Shivering so badly he could barely think, Crowley slowly lifted his hands to Aziraphale's, fighting to breathe. He took the hands in light grasps, peeling them off him, trying desperately to find his voice. Where on Earth had this gone so wrong? Aziraphale watched him in fear as he lowered the hands in front of him, taking deep breaths.
"Crowley...?"Aziraphale whispered, terrified. Crowley swallowed again and again, several aborted attempts before he found his voice. He felt as if he'd been dunked unprepared in icy water.
"...too much..."he rasped and Aziraphale paled, withdrawing his hands from Crowley's slack grip and sitting down, staring up on him. His eyes were wide. "I-I'm sorry angel, I..."Crowley breath hitched and he held his hands where Aziraphale had let go of them, arrested mid air. "I-I've never... You've never...touched me like that...before..."
"I shouldn't have," Aziraphale breathed, mortified with himself. "I am so sorry, Crowley," he whispered, new tears running down his cheeks, eyes still wide. Crowley shook his head, trying to gather the pieces of himself now that Aziraphale was no longer touching him.
"No...you can," he said, looking away. "It's just...it was too much at once and-and there was no warning." He let one hand come up to rub lightly over his arm, protecting himself with slender limbs. "Y-you can do anything you want with me. You always could." His voice was a mere whisper, barely registering over their breathing. Aziraphale looked stone struck.
"Crowley..."he breathed in something like agony, Crowley wasn't sure. "Oh, Crowley, what have I done to you all these years?" Crowley shrugged uncomfortably, sinking down to sit on his knees. He looked down on the pillows beneath him. The whole situation was almost as exhausting as Armageddon had been. Breathing unevenly, he gingerly lowered himself down on the bed, hesitating a moment too long before he put his head against Aziraphale's thigh. It was soft and warm against his cheek.
"I'm cold and exhausted, angel..."he whispered, so close to tears he felt wrecked. "I can't handle this now..."There was a slight shift and a rustle, before a fluffy duvet covered his shivering body and light fingers caressed his temple. Aziraphale didn't say anything and beyond the odd sniffle and the light caress he did not move.
---
Although his sleep was still troubled, Crowley felt stronger when he woke up, less exhausted. He was far from his normal form, but some of the bone deep weariness had gone. He found that he had at some point slid off Aziraphale's thigh and instead lay curled around him, nose pressed against the crease of fabric at his knee. A soft hand was still caressing him lightly.
"Oh good, you're awake," Aziraphale said with a wistful smile. "How do you feel?" Crowley drew himself up in sitting position, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. The angel watched him in silence, eyes searching and anxious.
"Better," Crowley said with a sigh. "Not great but better. I need coffee..."he rubbed at his neck. "Didn't you read?" he then asked tentatively, noticing that the book was lying a few feet away, out of reach. Aziraphale shook his head.
"No. To sit here with you as you slept was the least I could do," he said delicately. "I...I know I have no right to demand anything from you, I have long since forfeited that through my behaviour... But I...I need you to promise me something, Crowley." Crowley swallowed but nodded. It wasn't a difficult decision - he had never been able to deny Aziraphale anything. The angel reached out and held his hands out, palm up, in an invitation. He waited. Crowley watched the hands for a moment, his shoulders sinking before he reached out and placed his own hands on Aziraphale's. He heard the angel let out a relieved sigh, curling his fingers around Crowley's. He sniffed slightly before looking up to meet Aziraphale's eyes. "Promise me, Crowley, that you never, ever let me hurt you again." Crowley stared at him, a tremor going through his body. He grimaced.
"I...I could promise you..."he started, a pained look on his face as he averted his eyes. He couldn't bare seeing the look on Aziraphale's face. "Because giving you what you want is all I ever wanted. B-but...I can't refuse you even if it hurts me... I just can't."
"I was afraid you would say that," Aziraphale said softly, squeezing his hands gently. "But could you at least promise to tell me if I am hurting you? I can't always tell. Obviously." Crowley licked his lips, nodding. He could do that. Maybe. "Thank you." Crowley glanced up on him, the most tender, sad looks he'd ever seen on Aziraphale's face. "Is holding hands like this okay?" Crowley looked briefly down on their joined hands. A small, irrational part of Crowley wanted those warm hands everywhere to drink in their heat. He never listened to that part.
"Yeah...'s okay," he said, pacing his breathing. "You just shocked me earlier."
"I know... I am ever so sorry, dear boy," Aziraphale said, voice still so impossibly soft. "I had not realised the extent of your feelings. If I had, I would never have pressured you and I can't apologise enough." Crowley met his eyes again, searching.
"You know..."he started, stumbling on the continuation but Aziraphale nodded.
"I know you love me," he said, made it sound so simple. That little word that was so inadequate in describing how Crowley felt. He gave him a weak smile.
"It's been so long," he murmured and Aziraphale nodded, gently caressing his hands with his thumbs. So warm. "I can't remember a time when I didn't. It feels like forever. Since Eden."
"It must have been so difficult for you," Aziraphale said sadly. "With me treating you this way." Crowley gave a tiny noncommittal shrug.
"I had to accept the way things were a long time ago," he said, thinking back. "I never had any illusions that an angel would ever love a demon and even if he did..."he trailed off and Aziraphale nodded, Crowley knew he understood. "It was all I could do, see you...do things for you... I had nothing else." As he looked up again, Aziraphale looked very distressed.
"You sacrificed yourself for me and I never even knew," he whispered, lifting Crowley's hands slightly as he dipped his head, kissing them very lightly. Crowley watched him, drinking in the feeling of soft lips against his skin with no resistance. How many times had he wished those lips on him? "Oh can you ever forgive me my stupidity, Crowley?"
"Nothing to forgive," Crowley said wistfully. "I never blamed you and I never told you. How could I? You would have pushed me away if I did and...I couldn't... It was as if I was a part of you...all I wanted was to be with you, even if you hurt me, but when you did I knew you didn't want me there so I left. But I always felt alone and empty when I did, as if I left myself in you." Aziraphale let go of one of his hands to hover it over Crowley's cheek, a question in his eyes. Crowley swallowed, glancing at the hand, feeling its heat. Then he nodded, barely visibly. The soft hand gently cradled his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. When had he started crying? He didn't know.
"I will try make it up to you. I don't know how, but I will try," Aziraphale said, voice trembling. His eyes were shining with tears. "But before I even get a chance...we need to survive our final trial. You need to be brave just one more time, love. Just one more time." Crowley found it very difficult to process what Aziraphale had just called him, it clashed so horribly with his life of no hope for millennia. His head was reeling and he felt as if he would faint. He swayed, fighting to breathe.
"Love..."he murmured and Aziraphale nodded, never taking his eyes off him.
"I will make you coffee," he said gently, pushing the duvet off Crowley's shoulders as he snapped his fingers to replace it with a warm dressing gown. "Would you like something to eat, too?" Crowley's brain had problems stringing things together, but he nodded airily at the question. Aziraphale got up, removing the protective barrier he'd put up earlier before he unbolted the heavy door to the vault. Crowley followed him slowly, feeling unsteady on his legs much like he did after having spent some time without any. He ambled after as Aziraphale set for the kitchen and sat down to watch the angel struggle with the fancy coffee machine and try to archive the contents of the cupboards. In the end he found a package with pancake mix that Crowley had stashed for when he needed comfort food, and proceeded to make some.
Crowley watched him with a lump in his throat, coffee mug in his hands. Aziraphale in his kitchen making him breakfast.
"Am I dreaming...?"he mumbled vaguely. Aziraphale looked up and back at him, a slightly surprised look on his face. Crowley felt his cheeks go warm and looked down at his coffee. "This doesn't feel real," he added quietly. "I never thought you'd..."he swallowed, that lump making it hard. "I never thought you'd come here, let alone make breakfast."
"Well, there's a first for everything, dear," Aziraphale said softly, then pushed up a plate of pancakes with a generous helping of maple syrup on them. "If you will have me I will make a habit of it." Crowley's mouth twitched and he looked up, meeting Aziraphale's smile. He couldn't help himself smiling back. "I will have to fill up your cupboards, though. Do you never prepare food in here?"
"Very seldom," Crowley admitted. "The front kitchen is a bit better supplied though." At that, Aziraphale perked up and after finishing the last pancakes he disappeared for a little while as Crowley dug into his food. When the angel returned he had his hands full and a happy smile, proceeding to make them sandwiches as well - and a generous kettle full tea.
After having a healthy - or really, very big - breakfast in him and three cups of coffee Crowley was starting to feel back to his regular self. Which brought them back to the problem at hand that was growing more and more insistent by the minute.
"Judging by Agnes Nutters' usual style," Aziraphale said as they both stared at the singed scrap of paper lying on the kitchen island between them. "We should probably interpret it as quite literal. So fire and faces are probably exactly what they sound like." Crowley rubbed at his eyes.
"I think I have enough of fire for a lifetime," he grumbled and Aziraphale gave his shoulder and apologetic squeeze. "But all right. Fire it is." He contemplated getting a fourth cup of coffee but he was starting to get twitchy. "Considering I held the Bentley together for an hour yesterday I'd say I'm safe there even from discorporation. Wasn't sure it'd work at the time."
"You don't...you don't think we already have, then? Played with fire, I mean," Aziraphale said thoughtfully. "It would be quite a relief to be worrying for no reason." Crowley scratched his neck, frowning deeply.
"No choosing faces involved there though. Unless it's choosing sides - but if we're to interpret this as literal it should be actual faces. Yours, probably, since I've proved myself to survive fire."
"For which I am very grateful," Aziraphale said, smiling despite it all. "One more discorporation in one day would have been just awful, and I don't even know how you would get a new corporation..."he fell silent. "Crowley? You are staring at me." Crowley snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.
"Corporation," he repeated and Aziraphale looked very confused. "The corporation has the face," he said slowly and the angel blinked before realisation struck.
"You mean..."he started then stopped himself. "But Crowley! That would mean you need to sacrifice yourself for me again and I will not stand for it!" he cried and Crowley cringed. Millennia of sacrifices and now that it may be his only chance for survival the angel minded? He covered his face wearily with one hand, running it up through his hair, gazing at the ceiling.
"Don't you understand, Aziraphale?" he whispered. "If you die - I die. I fully intended to let it come yesterday when I thought I'd lost you for good." A tense silence followed, before Aziraphale finally spoke up.
"...you actually think I might die this time?" he whispered, sounding so terrified Crowley dropped his gaze back down. Aziraphale was white as a sheet, eyes wide and fearful. "Not just discorporate...?" Crowley watched him sadly, his heart so constricted that he was starting to seize up.
"I don't know," he said softly. "I have to assume the worst. If Hell gets to you to punish me, then it won't be just any fire. It will be Hellfire." Aziraphale swallowed visibly, looking like he was going to be sick. He licked his lips, quivering so much his locks vibrated.
"All...all right," he managed. "We can't...we can't risk that," he said, drawing deep breaths to centre himself. "Hell called you traitor yesterday. Heaven will most likely be vengeful as well but I don't know if they would go so far as to hurt you to punish me. I hope." Crowley gazed at him for a long moment.
"Well," he said, looking away. "If they get any ideas you would be protecting me, too, if you were wearing my corporation." Aziraphale calmed slightly at that, nodding as he looked down on the hands he was wringing on his lap. He smiled a little.
"Protecting you is the least I can do," he said gently. "You have always protected me when you could." Crowley shrugged, unable to deny it. He fingered his cup, stopping only when a soft hand came up to squeeze his. "We'll make it, love," the angel said very softly, unknowingly making Crowley's heart shudder in his chest. There it was again. Love. It had been difficult enough to accept Aziraphale suddenly starting to call him dear a few centuries back.
"If we don't...at least we tried," he said carefully, balancing his voice as if on the edge of a knife. "The world should be safe, for now." Another squeeze.
"We should get a wiggle on, my dear," Aziraphale said, withdrawing his hand. "But before we do that, there is one last thing." Crowley looked back on the angel, who gave him the most tender smile. "I would like to kiss you before we go. Would that be all right?" Crowley's mouth went dry. Kiss. That Aziraphale would even want to was far beyond anything he'd ever imagined, his fantasies drawing the line by touch alone. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally nodding nervously, shoving his hands down in between his knees to stop them from shaking so badly.
Aziraphale watched him for maybe a minute or two - time that felt like hours, before he reached out to lightly touch Crowley's cheek. It was all he could do not to start, breathing in through his nose as he savoured the warm of that soft hand. Then, moving slowly to give Crowley every opportunity to withdraw, to change his mind, Aziraphale stepped closer and brought his face up to the demon's. Crowley swallowed nervously, letting out a shuddering breath as Aziraphale's thumb caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes, waiting. He could feel the angel's hot breath on his face, the smell of tea. It all felt so unreal. And then, warm, impossibly soft lips pressed lightly against his.
Crowley let out a sigh millennia in waiting as he melted against Aziraphale's lips, giving in with abandon to that soft, intimate touch. In that moment, everything felt like it would be all right and even if it all ended in flame anyway, he'd at least have this. His last thoughts could settle on that single, impossible kiss.