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It had been a year since the almost-apocalypse and much had changed: Adam no longer inadvertently made world-altering changes, Heaven no longer chastised Aziraphale for ‘frivolous miracles’ and Hell no longer imposed on Crowley’s TV time. Though most important of those changes, if we may be so presumptuous as to make such a claim, was the change in Crowley and Aziraphale’s lives. Now many changes had occurred in their 6000-year residence on Earth, but none so drastic.
Today, for example, Crowley was in the bookshop, lounging on the sofa as Aziraphale sat beside him, the latter engrossed in a book. Crowley pulled his feet onto the sofa and curled them underneath him.
Aziraphale placed his book on the table and turned to Crowley, “I really would love to have some hot chocolate, wouldn’t you? It’s quite chilly isn’t it?”
“Mmm, if you want, angel,” Crowley shifted on the sofa, knocking over a stack of paper as he did so.
“You know, Crowley, I’ve been thinking that I really ought to tidy in here a bit,” Aziraphale swept a cursory glance across the bookshop, “surely it must be here somewhere.”
“What must be here?”
“Your mug for the hot chocolate. Well of course there are others in the kitchen it’s just that, well that one is yours.”
“Why don’t you just miracle it, I’m sure it’s –”
Aziraphale interrupted Crowley before he could miracle the mug into existence from wherever it was hidden. “Oh, but what if it’s beneath some books, suppose they get damaged? Oh no, I couldn’t, must do it the human way.”
“Well, I suppose we should begin in the kitchen, or perhaps it’s on your desk?” Crowley was very aware of how distracted Aziraphale could become with a good book and knew it was very likely that Aziraphale left it there from last time and had since forgotten. He probably wouldn’t even realise if the bookshop caught fire, Crowley shuddered to think, and immediately busied himself with searching for the lost mug.
“Of course, yes, my desk!” Aziraphale rushed to his desk and found, buried beneath a pile of papers and other paraphernalia, the angel mug. He grinned up at Crowley, triumphant. “Suppose I should make us some hot chocolate, the human way, of course.”
“Of course,” Crowley echoed back to him and began to shuffle back to the sofa, but instead of resuming his earlier position, he miracled a duster and moved towards Aziraphale’s desk. Knowing it would be a few minutes before Aziraphale would have prepared the hot chocolate to his satisfaction, he clicked on the radio and started with the dusting.
As Aziraphale made his way back to Crowley, carefully holding two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, he saw – or rather, heard – Crowley singing, whilst dusting?
“Look into his angel eyes, one look and you’re hypnotised. He’ll take your heart and you must pay the priiiiice…”
Crowley brushed his hair from his face with one hand whilst he dusted with the other as he continued to sing in time with the radio.
“His angel eyes…”
It was then that Aziraphale understood. Really understood. That in this year, for the first time in 6000 years, they had certainty. Certainty that Heaven and Hell and the apocalypse and the Antichrist – that it was all finally over. That they could now freely enjoy each other’s company and that this was their home.
Aziraphale’s eyes showed nothing but fondness, and this too Crowley mirrored in his. Aziraphale noticed that Crowley’s eyes were unguarded - not only by sunglasses, but also by any pretenses he had had to project in the past. Instead, they shined with love and adoration, which Aziraphale basked in with no remorse.
Crowley smiled adoringly at Aziraphale as he continued to sing. He took a steaming mug from Aziraphale’s hand and sipped the froth, dancing - well, wiggling - along to the music as he did so.
“Thought I’d start on that cleaning,” Crowley placed the mug on the table and resumed his dusting “the human way you’re so fond of, angel. Promise not to break anything.”
“You never could, my dear.”
Aziraphale watched as Crowley gently lifted his books, dusting each one in turn then replacing it with care and moving on to the next, giving each his unwavering attention. The books were, Aziraphale thought, rather lucky and rather like himself.
The music came back into focus and Aziraphale couldn’t resist the temptation to be held by Crowley so delicately, “I know it’s not the right music, dearest, but will you dance with me?”
“I could want nothing more,” Crowley walked towards Aziraphale and held out his hand.
Aziraphale took it and walked them to the centre of the room. He wound his arms around Crowley and allowed him to do the same.
“You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”
Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s chest as Crowley sang the lyrics and they slowly drifted to the music.
“I love you, baby. And if it’s quite alright. I need you, baby.”
Crowley closed his eyes and allowed the music to move them, attempting to project everything he felt so deeply into the lyrics. Sometimes he felt that he could burst with how strongly he felt but he knew that Aziraphale understood. Now and forever.
Crowley placed his forehead to Aziraphale’s, moving their faces closer together as they swayed to the music. Aziraphale leant up towards Crowley and lightly kissed him. It meant so much more than a brush of lips; it meant safety and security and most of all it meant ‘I love you too and I’ll never leave you’.