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It was an autumn afternoon, and although the street was visibly bustling, the sounds outside were muffled by the windows of the bookshop. However, Aziraphale, comfortably seated in his armchair and engrossed in his novel, would hear nothing.
So he couldn't help but jump slightly when two hands rested gently on his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Angel, I didn't mean to startle you," Crowley said softly before leaning over and planting a light kiss on his temple.
Aziraphale shook his head and replied, "Not at all, my dear. I was just so absorbed in my reading that..."
"...that the outside world no longer mattered," the demon finished for him.
Aziraphale replied sheepishly, "That's about right."
Crowley smiled indulgently and replied, "Don't be embarrassed. It's just like watching you eat, it's always interesting to see you engrossed in something you love."
Then he straightened up and, pointing to the angel's cup, asked, "I see it's empty, I'll make you another one."
Aziraphale smiled and replied, "You really would be an angel to do that for me. "
Crowley grabbed the cup and replied with a playful smile, "I don't think so. You're the angel, remember?"
Aziraphale rolled his eyes and replied, "Idiot."
He heard Crowley chuckle slightly as he left to prepare his tea.
But after the demon left the room, Aziraphale didn't return to his reading. He didn't know why, but at that moment he had a strange feeling.
Like a revelation.
There was nothing remarkable about the moment.
It was an ordinary day.
A good book.
His old armchair.
A kiss on the temple.
It was perfectly ordinary.
Yet for Aziraphale, it felt extraordinary in that moment.
No miracle, no matter how great, had given him the sense of fulfillment he felt at that moment.
"Your tea, Angel."
Crowley's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Thank you."
Crowley pressed a light kiss to his lips before turning to leave.
Aziraphale didn't know what motivated him, but he grabbed the demon's sleeve and held him back without saying a word.
"Angel?"
Aziraphale asked in a shy voice, "Would you mind staying with me for a while?"
Crowley, looking confused, replied, "Of course, but I thought you were reading."
Aziraphale shook his head and replied, "I don't feel much like reading now that you're here. I'd much rather spend some time with you and just talk or whatever."
Crowley smiled as he gently replied, "If you let me get a cup of coffee, I'm all yours."
Aziraphale didn't have time to react because Crowley had already crossed the few meters that separated him from the entrance of the bookshop and was leaving it to go to Nina's coffee shop.
Following him with his eyes, Aziraphale realized what was causing him to feel this moment of fulfillment.
Or rather who.
Crowley.
The fact that Crowley was here.
Not for a visit.
Not for a few hours.
Not for a fleeting moment.
But living there for what seemed like forever.
With him.
It wasn't like all the times they'd always had to part.
Both going home.
Alone.
All the times he'd wanted to ask the demon to stay a little longer, just for a drink, just to talk a little more.
Aziraphale grabbed the bottle of wine and filled Crowley's glass, saying without looking at him, "I...I knew you would come through for me."
He couldn't help but give him a slight sideways glance before adding, "You always do."
The demon picked up his glass, raised it to his lips, and replied, "Well, you said 'trust me.'"
Aziraphale retorted, just before taking a sip, "And you did."
Turning his head toward him, he added, "You could've walked away. If you were truly as evil as you like to paint yourself, you would've done that."
As always, Crowley protested, but this time Aziraphale sensed he was more measured in his response than he had been earlier in the evening, "Nah. That's the trouble with you. You don't see things in black and white."
Aziraphale looked at him a little stung as he continued, "Sometimes you've just 'gotta blur the edges."
For the first time, Aziraphale also tempered his answer, "Well, maybe there is something to be said for the shades of gray."
Then, smiling slightly, he moved his glass toward the demon's, who toasted with him before replying, "Well, shades of... dark gray." and taking a sip.
Aziraphale, not to be outdone, replied, "Shades of a very light gray, I'd rather fancy."
They each took a sip, Aziraphale glancing back at him furtively.
They continued to chat until the bottle was empty.
Crowley had long since placed his hat on the table and removed his glasses. Aziraphale felt comfortable, his mind a little clouded by the alcohol, but not too much.
The candles, which had shrunk in size, still radiated a warm glow.
The angel had to admit that he didn't want the evening to end at all, so he felt a twinge of regret as he saw Crowley take his glasses and place them on his nose.
The sign of departure.
Aziraphale couldn't ignore the disappointment he felt. But he also knew that he had no right to ask the demon to stay.
So, with a heavy heart, he watched as he put his hat on his head, tightened his tie, and buttoned up his jacket.
The demon stood up and said in an unusually soft tone, "Angel, after this more than eventful evening, I think it's time for me to go home."
Stay!
But, of course, the angel said nothing and simply nodded before escorting Crowley out.
As he headed for the Bentley, Crowley turned back to him and said, "I'll see you when I see you!"
Aziraphale nodded and smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. He stayed on the doorstep until the lights of the Bentley had disappeared into the night.
How many times had they been to the restaurant since then, and Aziraphale always wished the evening would never end.
Wishing that the moment would never come when Crowley would pull up in front of the bookshop.
Wishing that the moment would never come when Aziraphale would have to get out of the car and go home.
Alone.
Never knowing when they'd see each other again.
The piano played a gentle melody as the waiter filled Aziraphale's glass.
As he filled Crowley's glass, the angel took hold of his and said softly, smiling, "I like to think none of this would have worked out if you weren't just a little bit good person."
Crowley, smiling a little, replied in kind, looking at him, "And if you weren't, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing."
There was something different in the demon's smile, and Aziraphale instantly rediscovered the atmosphere of that evening in 1941.
The same soft, intimate atmosphere.
The one that made him want more.
The demon added, "Cheers. Then, taking his glass and raising it to the angel's, he continued, "To the world.
Aziraphale, raising his glass to the demon's, repeated, clinking their glasses, "To the world.
As they continued to eat and drink, they chatted as usual about anything and everything, laughed a little more at the expense of their camps, and Aziraphale felt full of a new exhilaration in the face of this new life.
A little scared, of course, but Crowley was there, so all would be well.
It was only when they noticed that the last tables had emptied that they realized the day was well underway. Crowley asked him softly, "Lift home?"
Aziraphale nodded, a little disappointed because he knew the moment he loathed was coming.
They were now parked in front of the bookshop.
Aziraphale knew he couldn't very well ask the demon to stay for a drink when they had just left the Ritz.
He looked at him and then, trying to keep his tone cheerful, said softly, "See you soon."
Crowley replied, "See you soon, Angel."
When?
But Aziraphale didn't want to seem clingy, so he shut up and opened the car door before getting out. Then he gave Crowley a little wave through the window before heading for the bookshop door.
But he couldn't help himself, so he turned and saw Crowley watching him.
He hesitated for a moment.
He could still invite him in.
But what would he think?
By the time all the questions had crossed his mind, the Bentley had started.
Too late.
Aziraphale watched the car drive away and returned to the bookshop with the same disappointment in his heart.
"Angel?"
Once again, deep in thought, Aziraphale was jolted out of it by Crowley approaching, coffee cup in hand.
He said quietly, "You're back."
It wasn't a question.
It was just an acknowledgment.
An amazed acknowledgment.
Crowley chuckled slightly and raised an eyebrow, observing, "You seem surprised."
Aziraphale grabbed his cup of tea, got up, and headed for the sofa, Crowley following, coffee in hand.
They both sat down and the angel resumed, "I think I just realized how utterly real this all is."
Crowley frowned and asked, "Did you doubt it?"
Aziraphale shook his head and replied, "It's not that. It's just that today, for some reason, I realized how real our life is now. After all this time. I don't have to make excuses to ask you to stay. I don't have to ask you to stay. Because you're here. You're living here. Here with me. It must sound ridiculous, I know..."
Crowley chuckled softly, "After everything we've seen? No, it's not ridiculous. In fact, I'm surprised because I thought I was the only one who felt this way. All those times I didn't want to leave. When I hoped you'd ask me to stay. When I wished I'd had the courage to ask you if I could stay."
Aziraphale sighed, "All the time we wasted when all we had to do was be honest."
Crowley took the angel's hand, intertwined the fingers with his own, and said softly, "I don't know. Maybe neither of us was ready. But what we didn't do in the past doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is that we're here now, right?"
He lifted the angel's hand and, bringing it to his lip, said, "Now I can have the nerve to do this."
He planted a kiss on the palm of the angel's hand, then continued, smiling slightly, "And then this..."
He pulled the angel toward him, and as Aziraphale pressed against him, he wrapped his hands around him as Aziraphale slipped his arms around his waist, snuggling a little closer to him.
The angel sighed contentedly and added, "And this, too."
Crowley hummed into his hair and planted a light kiss on it.
Aziraphale looked up and added, "I see what you mean. We probably weren't ready for any of this."
Crowley replied softly, "But we have plenty of time for that now," then bent his head and kissed the angel's lips tenderly.
They remained entwined like this for a few moments, then Aziraphale straightened and grabbed his cup, taking a sip before asking the demon, "Do you have something to do?"
Crowley shook his head, "Nothing," then took a sip of coffee as the angel replied, "Perfect.
They stayed there, chatting as they drank.
It wasn't a fancy restaurant.
It was the old bookshop sofa.
It wasn't champagne or wine.
It was just tea and coffee.
But when the cups were empty, neither of them would have to find an excuse to prolong the moment.
Because this was their life now.
Simple and ordinary.
But it was real and it was theirs.