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It’s almost humorous how two entities such as Aziraphale and Crowley have lived longer than time itself, yet found themselves succumbing to it in the end. To be precisely accurate, they found that it was quite literally the end that made them so vulnerable to the ticking time stamp above their heads. But, like mentioned previously, they were entities, not humans, which does have its perks. For one, reality can sort of bend at their command. Smaller feats can be done by a snap of the fingers, or in some cases a mere thought. However, what Crowley needed to accomplish now was a bigger stunt than any such demon, even the Dukes of Hell, have ever been able to accomplish. Crowley needed to stop time.
Threatened by a particular angel, Crowley found the willpower he needed to send himself, Aziraphale, and Adam Young (less popularly known as the antichrist), soaring into the heavens. All further indications of the world beneath them continuing were suspended until further notice.
Minutes later, Adam realized what needed to be done to save everyone and everything he loved. Aziraphale and Crowley knew it was a little risky to trust an eleven year old with the fate of the Earth on his shoulders, but there was little else left they could do. So they wished Adam the best of luck with his father who art no longer in heaven. Unbeknownst to Crowley, Aziraphale blessed Adam with just a tad bit of courage before saying their final goodbyes to the boy. All Crowley saw was that Adam stood up a bit straighter. Aziraphale and Adam braced themselves for vaulting back down to the Hell that was now on Earth, but Crowley had other plans.
Pale yellow clouds swirled around the unlikely threesome and in a blink of an eye, the antichrist was gone, yet the demon and the angel still remained. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and his brows knitted into concern, panic rising on his cheeks.
“Crowley, what in the world is going on? Where is Adam? Why are we still here? Oh my word, we’ve been trapped! Our sides! How do we get ou-” Crowley lunged towards the angel, with what the demon was sure was the worst idea he had ever had running through his head (which said quite a lot, but nonetheless, it was too late to go back on it now).
“Aziraphale, shut up.” he hissed. Taken aback, the angel took half a step backwards before he felt Crowley’s long fingers grip his shoulders. Crowley’s shoulders were tensed up to his neck and his legs were rigid. The fallen angel looked at his fingers sorrowfully (the ones that snapped Aziraphale out of losing his head), and then to his feet (the ones that still have scars from the burns he got from dancing down the aisle in a church to rescue the angel once again). He looked everywhere but at the angel he saved.
“Crowley, tell me what's going on right now.” the angel stammered.
“Just give me a minute, okay?” Crowley grimaced. His stomach was twisted into knots, his throat burned, and his grip tightened even harder on his angel’s shoulders. But he knew what had to be done.
A second later, the flaming sword and the remaining piece of the Bentley vanished from both their grips, and now all that was left in this world so far from their own, were the two very best of friends, and six-thousand years of pent up emotions. So pent up in fact, they began to manifest themselves in a single angry tear, falling from beneath Crowley’s glasses. Shocked, Aziraphale took a staggered breath, and in an impulsive act of bravery, reached a cautious hand up to take the masquerade off the demon’s face, sliding the glasses into his coat pocket. There was nothing either of them could hide behind now. Crowley took in a quivering breath.
“Listen, angel. I know you might’ve caught on by now, but I just- I-, I just couldn’t-.” He paused and grunted in despondent frustration. “There are so many things I need to tell you and I may not get to say them ever again, so I just need to get them out now, just so you know and we don’t have much time and-” A sob racked his voice. Tears fell much faster now, rivers of sorrow and animosity on his cheeks. He was angry at himself for not being able to say what he wanted to for centuries, but even more so towards the monsters who made it this way. “Angel, I don’t know how to say this but-”
“Crowley, don’t do this, it’s going to be alright.” Aziraphale said, his eyes glossy. For an angel, he was a damn good liar.
“No, Aziraphale it’s not. Just let me do this. Please.” The demon swiped his face with the back of his fist. Aziraphale lifted his gentle hands to cup Crowley’s water stained face and let his thumb catch a tear before hastily wiping it away. He guided Crowley’s head to look him in the eyes.
Maybe Crowley didn't have to say anything after all.
Bracing for rejection, he pulled the angel even closer by his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut, and before Aziraphale had the chance to say no or push him away, Crowley’s lips were pressed against the other’s, rendering the angel completely stunned and speechless.
One can’t really say a moment had passed before Aziraphale kissed the demon back, considering time had stopped and such expressions can’t be used in situations such as these, but soon enough, he did. Tear stained faces stuck together in a desperate attempt for the last bit of closeness they could muster. Hearts chained back by threats and sensibility fluttered hopelessly against their confines without regret, and alas, after six millennia, the chains were broken.
Salty droplets from both eyes fell onto both pairs of lips, and there was no difference between them at all, not in size nor in taste. It was deliciously human, the act of it all. Nothing but unrestrained love and adoration. Though angel and demon, they were one in the same, and they intended to stay that way no matter what the Almighty threw at them. Be it torture or be it death, it’d be them together, on their side. Because now there was a “their side”. They smiled against the other’s mouth despite the circumstances and broke the kiss. Crowley opened his eyes to see every thought in his head mirrored on Aziraphale’s face, and he knew that now he wasn’t going too fast. It sent another muffled cry through him.
Crowley wouldn’t say he fell into the angel’s embrace necessarily, rather it was the other way around. But unlike the angel, he is a horrible liar. Truth was, it was he who gripped Aziraphale tight around his mid and collapsed onto his shoulder heaving heavy sobs. They both shook in grieving companionship, secrets shared through touch.
Though they might’ve been crying, this was the most peace either had felt in a very long time. Perhaps ever. Because now, they knew every feeling was reciprocated, the good and the bad ones. But they had time on their side for a few moments longer, so they'd focus on the bad ones later. For now it was just them making up for eternity. Wordlessly, they decided they’d save the world when they were finished.