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"Well, what is it that you wanted to show me?"
If there was any undue excitement in Aziraphale's voice, he quickly washed it down with the rest of his Bellini. It had been a perfect evening of fine dining and cocktails. Every evening had been perfect, or so the angel kept telling himself. What more could he possibly expect from this wholly unexpected new life? There was no more hiding. No need for silly code names that he kept mixing up, thereby rendering them somewhat ineffective. No more looking over his shoulder. No more bad shoulder angels. No pretending to feed the ducks in order to talk to his best friend. Now they just fed the ducks because they felt like it.
Only that wasn't quite true. Something was still hiding, right below his epidermis, which finally felt like his very own skin. Right there, in the little folds underneath his tongue, always just on the edge of awareness, but never concrete enough to try and pry it out of his mouth. Something was hiding in plain sight, and all he needed to do was stop counting to ten, open his eyes and find it.
But it wasn't that easy. You couldn't simply slip out of one type of relationship and into a new one, like slipping out of your street clothes and into your pyjamas. Aziraphale had not even managed to exchange his favourite coat for a more up-to-date version in nearly two hundred years. It would not be amiss to say that his aptitude for change left something to be desired.
Now, speaking of desired, Crowley had always been much better at adapting. The demon looked positively dashing in his new dark grey woollen coat and red scarf, standing by the inky floor-to-ceiling windows, an empty whiskey glass in hand.
"Alright. Come here."
Aziraphale approached, peering outside. The view across the Thames was breathtaking, as always, a never-ending stream of vibrant neon crowned by the neo-gothic fairy-tale exuberance that was Tower Bridge. But it wasn't like he hadn't seen it all before. They had been there for the inaugural opening of the Shard, in fact, and in the beginning the angel thought it was a rather aggravating sight, but he had grown to appreciate it over time, in all its tall, dazzling, unabashed in-your-faceness. Something that held equally true for his opinions on some other matters besides architecture.
"Give me this."
Crowley took the cocktail flute from him, leaning down to place both their glasses on the floor without breaking eye contact. This was starting to make the angel just a little nervous. He was not fond of surprises, as a rule, and Crowley had been strangely unreadable all evening. Usually, the demon was like an open book, one that was in need of some gentle editing, or, failing that, a set of highlighters and a phraseological dictionary to go alongside it, but still.
"What are you up to, pray tell?"
Crowley responded with a half-smile that was carefully crafted to be utterly irresistible, damn his demonic prowess.
"Come closer, Angel. And I'll show you."
He leaned back into the window pane behind him, gesturing an invitation. The demon wore his hair long again, almost like back in the day when they stood on the wall above the Eastern Gate together. Though humans had made some very welcome progress when it came to grooming products since then, and Crowley's auburn tresses looked wonderfully soft and touchable against the dark glass.
Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow, pulse quickening. Closer? They were barely three feet apart, a perfectly appropriate distance for a conversation between two friends. Two people who weren't in an intimate relationship. Sure, they had been closer than that before, but there was always a good reason: swapping bodies, sharing wine, being pushed against a wall because someone had a little anger management problem at times.
He rubbed his hands together, gazing into Crowley's eyes in search of another good reason. The demon wasn't wearing his sunglasses, but he might have as well had three pairs perched on his nose, for all that he gave away. Aziraphale sighed in resignation. It was National Tease Your Angel Day, apparently, and no one had bothered telling him.
"Jolly good."
He took a tentative step forward, which already brought him within arm's reach. Or, to be more precise, within the reach of an impatient hand that caught him by the elbow and pulled him forward until their chests were only one deep breath away from touching. Not that he could have managed a deep breath right now.
"What are you -", he muttered, head filled with Crowley's cologne, glancing around. No one seemed to be watching them, but still, this was all very public. And he wasn't even sure what this was. The demon could not possibly intend to -? Right here, right now -? Without carefully discussing and laying out a plan for a new arrangement -?
"Put your hands on my shoulders."
Aziraphale hesitated, all fizzy and sticky like prosecco mixed with peach nectar. It was one of those moments where possibility was about to start crossing over into reality, making the whole concept of reality a little shaky in the process.
"Don't you trust me?"
Crowley tilted his head with a a hint of a pout.
"Why would I? You're playing some kind of snakey game with me."
Even as Aziraphale's mouth was saying the words, his hands were already developing a mind of their own, coming to rest lightly on both sides of the demon's neck.
"You'll like this game", Crowley smirked. "Now, hold on tight."
"What?"
A few things happened next, within the space of that question mark hanging in the air. The demon wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Then, inexplicably, the glass pane rippled, softened, letting them pass through, and they were falling, down from the seventy-second floor, into the distant glow of the city.
Aziraphale was too astonished to even scream as his life flashed before his eyes. It was a very, very long life. There was a whole lot of flashing as he waited for the impact. Until he realised that they were no longer falling, or maybe they were, but in the opposite direction. He also realised that he was pressed so desperately into his friend he was probably leaving a face-shaped imprint on his neck. The angel wasn't sure which realisation was more shocking.
It did not take long for fear to tip over into curiosity and he dared to lean away, just a little, peeking down at the twinkling lights below his helplessly dangling feet, moving further away by the second, then up at an entirely different set of twinkling lights framing Crowley's winged frame.
"Whoa", was all he could breathe, but he thought that captured his feelings rather precisely, actually, as his eyes centred back on Crowley's face.
The demon looked suitably smug, taking them higher with a few more lazy beats of his glossy wings, until he caught a stream of air and spread them out to their full impressive span. They were hovering there, defying gravity, Crowley's mane floating in the wind like a silky red halo framing his face.
"This can't be -" Aziraphale exhaled, clutching his friend's shoulders in what seemed more and more like an unnecessary precaution. The way Crowley held him against his own body, firmly, but effortlessly, as if he weighed no more than a feather himself, made him feel perfectly safe.
"We can't manifest our wings on Earth.. we've tried before, it's impossible!"
Crowley laughed, giving a leisurely flap that sent them spinning in a slow circle, demonstrating just how little he cared about something as mundane as the laws of physics, meta or otherwise.
"There are many things that should have been impossible to us, Angel. But we did them anyway."
"But how -?"
"Just practice. A bit of imagination. I remember you said, you missed flying. That you forgot how it felt. Do you remember now?"
"Yeah", the angel whispered, gazing into his gleaming eyes, a soft amber light illuminating their little bubble. It felt like he was floating on his heartbeat alone, all fear dissolved in breathless exhilaration.
They swayed in silence for a moment, lulled by the drifting sensation. Crowley smiled when he spoke again, but there was an earnest edge to his husky voice.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
It was quiet up here, the sights and sounds of Central London a distant memory.
"I'd like to kiss you."
It was cold, too. Aziraphale could feel the icy breeze prickle his scalp and freeze the tip of his nose. But he couldn't care less, wrapped into the demon's body heat.
"May I kiss you?"
The angel shuddered, all manners of dizzy. Could Crowley not have asked him the question somewhere else, literally anywhere else, a café, his shop, while waiting at some traffic lights, maybe, any other time when he wasn't drunk on adrenaline, and light-headed, when they weren't so inescapably in each other's arms. He was beginning to suspect this was all part of a devious plan.
"Y-you mean, on the mouth?", he stammered with impressive obtuseness, buying himself just a little more time to process it all.
"Well, yeah", Crowley chuckled, eyes twinkling, "I assumed we'd start with the mouth. There are other parts of you I'd also like to kiss, but they aren't as easily accessible right now.."
"That's not what I -", Aziraphale gasped, the cold wind soothing his burning cheeks, eyes already glued to Crowley's lips, "I just meant -.. in what capacity -.. what are we -.."
"You know, there is such a thing as talking a moment to death."
Despite this, they were leaning a little closer with every word, their breath forming tiny white clouds between them, until it was just one single tiny white cloud.
"And if I say no", one of Aziraphale's hands slid up to tangle itself in the demon's hair, "are you going to let me fall?"
"Maybe", Crowley grinned, arms tightening around the angel's waist, only a gossamer-thin layer of warm air separating their faces, "maybe not. Do you feel lucky?"
"So lucky", Aziraphale whispered, closing his eyes as their lips touched, truly reminding him what flying felt like. They were swirling through the darkness, high as a pair of kites with no strings attached.
"Well", Crowley's voice wound itself into the angel's cochlea after what felt like a blissful eternity, "how was that for a first kiss? Too cheesy?"
"Ah, aleast, y'didn't try singing th'song from Aladdin", Aziraphale slurred, his brain an explosion of shapes and colours, "'s all tickety-boo."
The demon laughed before kissing him again, obviously deciding that his mouth wasn't good for much else right now.
It came as a bit of a dissonance when Aziraphale felt solid ground under his feet again some time later and Crowley released him from that endless embrace. He swayed, a little unsteady on his feet, as if having to learn to walk all over again.
"Where are we?" He gazed around in confusion, realising they were still high above ground.
"What do you think?"
It took the angel a few moments to get his bearings, a warm shiver crawling down his spine as he did.
"The roof of your apartment block."
"Mmh", Crowley took both of his hands, thumbs stroking over his knuckles, "I thought, maybe you'd like to -"
"Yes", Aziraphale blurted out unthinkingly, instantly lighting up like a torch.
"You should be careful giving me a carte blanche like that", Crowley grinned, allowing him to stew in his embarrassment for just a moment longer. "But I was going to say, maybe you'd like to watch a film with me, and kiss some more. Also, with me."
"Yes, I think I'd like that. With you."