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“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale spoke, his voice soft as he said the demons name so softly, almost akin to prayer, “I never wanted you to change, or to try and change you.” He finished, wanting desperately to reach his hand out and weave the demons fingers with his own, but now was not that time.
“You said-.” Crowley tried, his chest constricting as the words seemed to catch in his throat. “You said we-” He tried again, but failed. “Angels.” He finally muttered, the word leaving a nasty taste in his mouth; something akin to copper. He continued, “All I’m ever going to be is a demon. I can’t be anything good for you.”
“Crowley, that's not what I meant, dear.” Aziraphale began. “I just,” he tried. “If that was something you wanted. I know you never wanted to fall, you never wanted this life, and I never wanted you to change. I love you how you are, demon or angel. I only wanted you to stay with me, stay an us, Crowley.”
“Aziraphale…” Crowley tried again, his hands reaching forward, and resting on the angel’s shoulders, he was visibly trebling, he almost feared he would discorporate just standing there. And then his words make a home in his brain, sending a flurry of information through him that makes him go pale and blush at the same time. “You love me?” he can’t help ask, he wants to shout it from the stars, wants to hold it close to his chest like a dying flame. He feels relieved and scared at the same time that he fears he might be sick.
Aziraphale’s hand comes to his cheek, skin pleasantly warm against his skin, “Of course I do, Crowley.” he said, “I’m sorry that it took me so long to tell you that.” Aziraphale hung his head, Crowley stepping into him and wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. “I’m sorry I made such a mess of us.” he confessed, voice muffled into the leather of his jacket.
“I forgive you, Angel.” Crowley replied, watching as Aziraphale pulled away, craning his neck to look at him. “I’ll always forgive you. I love you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes welled up, the tears threatening to spill over. It was Aziraphale’s turn to fist his hands into the lapels of Crowley’s jacket, pulling down with as much fervor as he could allow. His lips pressing against Crowley, not unlike their first one all those moons ago. Crowley paused for only a moment, his hands tightening and all but fusing their beings into one. He didn’t care what else came about, didn’t care about any plans or centuries old prophecies. All he cared about at this moment was kissing Crowley with every ounce of his being.
And this time, he was intent to keep the demon close by forever.