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Angels are creatures who feel love subtly. Love radiates a gentle vibration in the air, warmth, the smell of homemade cakes, or elegant perfume. Love can even be felt on the tip of the tongue if it is gently pulled out of the mouth, but Crowley says that makes Aziraphale look like a creep. Love sounds like music, the most perfect music on earth. Love, in the end, is simply visible: by the eyes, by gestures, by actions.
And Crowley, despite being a demon, has always exuded a particularly strong aura of love. If demons could see it too, Crowley would have been in big trouble a long time ago. Crowley adores humanity, but his aura of love never goes away, even if he and Aziraphale are alone. Crowley's love smells of the plants he cultivates and the wine he diligently drinks. Crowley's love sounds like the songs of Queen, even if he doesn't think much of the band. Crowley's love is visible whenever he removes his sunglasses and allows others to look into his yellow snake eyes, which have more feelings than can be found in any other demon. Crowley's love probably tastes like his kisses, but Aziraphale hasn't checked, even though he's as curious about Crowley as he is about the oldest book. Crowley has been his friend for six thousand years, Aziraphale knows him like the back of his hand, but still there always remains a certain piece of obscurity, a mystery. And this love is the biggest mystery of all. Even though the answer seems obvious, Aziraphale never asked the question.
The two of them are in his shop. It's been three weeks since the apocalypse happened. Crowley began to grow his hair back, refusing to hasten the process with a snap of his fingers. "You don't understand, angel, it won't feel like you grew them yourself." Except Aziraphale understands it very well. A miracle wouldn't have helped with the stain on his jacket either, because Aziraphale would always know that it was there, deep down. But instead, he knows that not only was the stain there, but there was Crowley, who very gallantly, beautifully erased it. These are fond memories.
He stares at Crowley, in a black suit, lounging on his couch with a bottle of wine in his hand. Maybe Crowley needs the same memories? Maybe Crowley needs a little care?
"Love in return," an inner voice whispers, causing so much unrest in Aziraphale. They're friends. They really became friends only recently, even though they had been friends for millennia. They probably love each other, even in an unknown sense. Why is it so difficult for Aziraphale to make a step forward?
He gets up, steps rather hesitantly, and sits down on the couch next to Crowley.
"Do you want beautiful long hair?"
"I do."
Aziraphale is sitting on the very edge, Crowley's head resting on his lap. He looks at Aziraphale with a slightly drunken, trusting look. And Aziraphale touches the red, slightly grown hair, strokes it, passes it through his fingers, and Crowley blissfully closes his eyes and hums. The hair is getting longer and longer. At some point Aziraphale carefully clarifies, basking in his incredible aura of love:
"Is that okay, dear?"
"Amazing," Crowley breathes thoughtlessly, and only then regains his composure, pushing himself up on his elbows, glances at the glass-doored cabinet, straightens his now shoulder-length hair, and says: "Thank you, angel."
Their eyes meet, and Aziraphale suddenly realizes that this is the moment. The moment he's been waiting years for. They are free, they are best friends, they love each other. Something has to be done about it!
"Crowley," Aziraphale begins, confused. "I want us to be a couple."
"We're already a couple," Crowley gives him the kind of look that those who don't appreciate his brilliant ideas usually deserve.
"I don't mean a couple in the sense of there being two of us. I mean an actual couple!"
"Me too," shrugging Crowley.
"In a romantic sense!"
"Yeah, I know. What other sensss… I, angel, not a pony… You… I…" and while Crowley is confused in his own language, Aziraphale prepares his most important and most terrifying speech. It consists, in general, of only three words, but he still takes in more air in his chest.
"I love you. And I want you to be my boyfriend, my man, my beloved…" Aziraphale blushes slightly, "My lover?"
Crowley's eyes are already so big that they clearly read fear of responsibility - at least, that's what Aziraphale sees in his gaze.
"What are you talking about, angel?" Crowley breathes out in despair, and Aziraphale begins to come up with the advantages of their mutual love in a panic. "We're already together, aren't we? We live together. We love each other."
And then a huge insult falls on Aziraphale's head.
"You never even kissed me."
"The same goes for you," Crowley points out. "You said I was too fast for you, so I'm not in a hurry. Do you want to kiss?"
Aziraphale looks down, feels his human shell burning in the cheeks, and decides with an embarrassed nod.
Crowley doesn't hesitate even a second, takes Aziraphale by the chin, lifts his face, and kisses him directly on the lips. Aziraphale finally learns what Crowley's love tastes like: it tastes like a demon drunk on wine. Tastes like the best kiss ever. He replies timidly, enjoying the way Crowley strokes his back, caresses his lips, and disarms him with a huge boundless aura of love.
An absurd thought suddenly flies into his head, Aziraphale laughs into the kiss, and Crowley indignantly pulls back and belligerently clarifies:
"What?!"
"Just if you suddenly marry me without my knowledge, let me know."
Crowley opens his mouth, doesn't find an answer, closes it, and opens it again. Without saying anything, he just puts on his sunglasses, takes a sip from the bottle, grabs Aziraphale by the collar, and kisses him again.
It tastes amazing. Only Aziraphale didn't understand: Crowley doesn't think of them as a married couple, does he? Isn't he husband material?
Though in the end, what difference does it really make? Aziraphale loves and is loved. He's even kissed. Crowley kisses him. They're together; they survived the apocalypse, and they can live happily ever after, even for eternity. Some will say that eternity with Crowley is crazy. Aziraphale is ready to bet. Eternity with Crowley is fun. Eternity with Crowley is a mutual concern. Eternity with Crowley is love.
But when Crowley put his hand below Aziraphale's back, he snaps it and declares that things are moving too fast.
Crowley chuckles and says, "Okay, okay. Maybe in the next century I'll just seduce you to dinner at the Ritz, angel. But you said yourself that you want to be my lover."
"Not all in one day, dear."
"What about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow I'll think about it."
"Angel." Crowley pushes his sunglasses off his nose. "You slay me."
Aziraphale smiles awkwardly and promises:
"And I'll slay you again, my dear, more than once."
"I look forward to it."
They kiss again, collapse onto the couch and hug. It's so good for Aziraphale to be with him.