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“I forgive you.”
Forgiveness. But for what? He wasn’t quite sure. Not for the kiss, God no. That said everything Crowley wanted to say and more. Perhaps for what it was that he was saying. For the undeniable love they had spent millennia cultivating, but only just accepted. But if that were the case Aziraphale would have to forgive himself. No, it wasn’t forgiveness for that. It was forgiveness for Crowley’s bravery. Bravery in throwing caution to the godforsaken wind and being honest. Aziraphale often thought himself a bad angel, for honesty was not one of his strong suits. He wasn’t brave like Crowley. He couldn’t just forget everything Heaven had ever taught him. Because, unlike Crowley, he had never defied anything before. Not properly. Crowley had fallen. Crowley had looked at the Almighty, the all-knowing greatest being in all the universe, and told Them “No.” So perhaps that was what Aziraphale was forgiving him for. For being strong enough to acknowledge that even God’s Kingdom can get things wrong. That maybe it wasn’t built for people like them.
He watched as Crowley walked away, emanating both rage and a deep sadness with every step he took. All he could do was watch. Because he wasn’t brave. He couldn’t just tell the Metatron to stick his job offer up his celestial arse, not like Crowley would. Images of Tadfield Airbase flashed across his mind. Of telling Gabriel of the ineffable plan. That was a sort of defiance, in a way. He made it clear to Gabriel that he and Crowley would not do their bidding any longer. Funny that. The only time he was ever truly brave was when he had Crowley by his side. And now he doesn’t anymore. He did the most cowardly thing possible and pushed away the only thing that made him feel strong. He may not be brave like Crowley. But he didn’t need to be because Crowley was his bravery.
The Metatron appeared in the doorway. He knew he was speaking, was likely saying something rather important, but Aziraphale wasn’t listening. He caught sight of Crowley through the window. Stood by his car. As if waiting for something. Someone.
“Excuse me,” he said to the Metatron, hurriedly, and rushed past him into the street. Crowley was climbing into his car. Turning on the engine. Aziraphale ran as fast as his legs could take him. But it didn’t feel quick enough. Like every extra second he took was another second for Crowley to realise how little he needed Aziraphale. And to forget how much Aziraphale needed him.
“Crowley! Crowley, wait!”
Two black circles stared cooly back.
Aziraphale felt anxiety bubbling through him. He didn’t actually think this through. No sort of plan or pre-prepared speech. But maybe there didn’t need to be one. He thought back to earlier. About the perfect way to express everything.
The car door flew open.
“Listen Aziraphale,” Crowley began despondently, “I really don’t have tim-“
He was cut off by hands wrapping round the back of his neck and pulling him into a fierce kiss. Hands that threaded their way through his hair. And lips pressing so harshly against his own they might almost hurt if they didn’t feel so good. And tears that weren’t his own falling on his cheeks.
Just as Aziraphale began to pull away, taking the hint that perhaps this might truly be over, he felt a hand creeping its way up his spine. And lips finally moving against his own. Tears to match his own.
In that moment, everything was perfect.
There was no Hell. No Heaven. No Almighty, no Metatron, no world. Just two souls. Slowly merging. Becoming what they were always destined to be. Not two opposing beings, loyal to those who despised them. But one. Their own side.
“You are my Heaven.”
Gabriel’s words rang in Aziraphale’s ears. That wasn’t true for him. For Crowley was not Aziraphale’s Heaven. He was something far greater.