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Crowley wrings their hands as they pace around the bookshop. They’re going to do it. After six thousand years, they’re finally going to do it. They’re finally going to tell Aziraphale how they feel.
Soon enough, they hear the shop door open, as well as Aziraphale’s familiar footsteps. Aziraphale finds them, smiling excitedly.
Crowley takes a deep breath, and whips their sunglasses off their face, “Look, I suppose, um... I've got something to say. I know we ought to be talking about... It's probably best if I start off doing all the talking, you do all the listening, 'cause if I don't start talking now, I won't ever start talking, right? Yes, so…” they begin to trail off.
Aziraphale interrupts, waving his hands excitedly, “What's that lovely human expression? Oh, yes! Hold that thought,” he chuckles to himself, “You see, I... I have some incredibly good news to give you!”
“Really?” Crowley asks, doubtful.
“I... um... So, um... the Metatron, you know, I don't think he's as bad a fellow... Well, I think I might've misjudged him,” Aziraphale makes a couple noises trying to put his thoughts together, “You see, I... Well, he said, um, that Gabriel obviously hadn't worked out…” he stops to laugh again, “As Supreme Archangel and Commander of the Heavenly Host, and he asked who I thought should take over in Heaven now that Gabriel was gone.”
He stops again, grinning, “And I said… me?”
“He said what?” Crowley says in disbelief.
“He said I could appoint you to be an angel,” he sighs with joy, “You could come back to Heaven and... and everything, like the old times. Only, even nicer!” Aziraphale starts giggling again.
Crowley stood completely still, dumbfounded. They never would have expected this.
“Right. And you told him just where he could stick it, then?” they say less as a question, and more as a confirmation.
The shine in Aziraphale’s eyes dulls slightly as his smile strains, “Not at all.”
Crowley shakes their head angrily, “Oh, we're better than that, you're better than that, Angel! You don't need them. I certainly don't need them!” they start pacing, “Look, they asked me back to Hell, I said no. I'm not gonna be joining their team. Neither should you.”
“But... Well, obviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys,” Aziraphale remarks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “But Heaven... Well, it's the side of Truth, of Light. Of Good.”
Crowley stands there for a moment, silent with their mouth wide open, trying to figure out what to say next.
They growl, “When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it.”
Aziraphale is no longer smiling.
“Tell me you said no,” they demand.
Aziraphale looks around them, not saying a word.
“Tell me you said no,” they repeat, realizing in the back of their mind that they are trying to plead with him.
“If I’m in charge…” he starts, “I can make a difference.”
Crowley realizes what is happening. “Ohh,” Crowley lets out, moving in a circle, “Oh, God. Right, okay. Right. I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say, I think I'd better say it now Right, okay, yes, so…”
Crowley lets out a loud sigh and looks down at the floor, “We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't.”
Aziraphale squints at them, seemingly trying to figure out where they are going.
“I mean the last few years, not really,” Crowley looks up at the ceiling, trying not to look Aziraphale in the eyes, “And I would like to spend…” They cringe and hum at themselves, then take a breath and begin again, “I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can.”
Crowley finally looks at Aziraphale. He stands there still, not making a sound.
“Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell, they're toxic. We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me, what do you say?”
He shakes his head, then walks closer to them, “Come with me... to Heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference.”
“You can't leave this bookshop,” they reason.
“Oh, Crowley,” he says with a sigh, “Nothing lasts forever.”
Oh. They start to feel tears forming in the corner of their eyes. Crowley leans their head up. They’re not going to cry in front of Aziraphale. Not now.
“No,” they say defeatedly, “No, I don't suppose it does.”
They slide their sunglasses back on their face, closing themselves off.
They move past Aziraphale, “Good luck,” they say, walking away.
“Good luck?” He turns and begins to follow them, “Crowley, come back-”
Crowley turns around.
“-to heaven! Work with me!” he gestures with his arms, “We can be together. Angels… doing good!”
Crowley just swallows.
“I... I need you!” Aziraphale pleads.
Crowley still just stands silently, oh so still.
“I don't think you understand what I'm offering you.”he says lowly.
“I understand,” they finally look at him, speaking gravely, “I think I understand a whole lot better than you do.”
Aziraphale swallows and nods, “Well... then there's nothing more to say.”
Both are silent for a moment.
“Listen,” Crowley points upwards, “Do you hear that?”
He looks up, then around, then throws his arms in the air, “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s the point. No nightingales.”
They stare at each other for a moment before Crowley speaks up again, “You idiot. We could have been... us.”
Aziraphale suddenly turns, looking away. Before Crowley can think, they’re striding towards him. They grab the lapels to his coat, and forcefully pull him into a kiss.
It’s nothing like they imagined their first kiss with Aziraphale would be like, and oh, they imagined. They imagined it soft, a faint brushing of lips, hesitant and nervous. They imagined it sweet, quietly laughing to themselves. They imagined it warm and fuzzy, on the couch after a couple drinks. Nothing like this. It’s forceful, and the circumstances are all wrong. They should be happy, over the moon about having Aziraphale’s lips on theirs. There shouldn’t be a pit in their stomach. There shouldn’t be the overhanging feeling of dread. There shouldn’t be fear stuck in their throat.
Aziraphale makes a surprised gasp as their lips connect. His hands float in the air, so close to Crowley’s torso, but not touching, as if the shock had made him incapable of knowing what to do. But then those same hands find his back, and he is pushing himself against Crowley, and for a moment it’s just them.
But Crowley pulls back. Aziraphale gasps and sputters. They watch, waiting for him to speak. He looks like he’s about to cry.
Ever so softly he stutters out, so quietly that Crowley can barely hear, “I lo-”
He gasps sharply, and Crowley waits for him to compose himself. Aziraphale’s breath slowly starts to even, even if his breaths are short and shallow, and his lips are still wavering.
“I for-” he stutters, “I… I fo- I forgive-”
Aziraphale stops mid sentence, before holding his head in his hands.
“Oh, God!” he sobs, “Oh! Oh, Crowley.”
Crowley cautiously takes a step forward.
“Crowley, please! Do it again. Right now, please Crowley,” he begs, finally looking up at them.
Tears are pouring down his face, his breath unsteady. His hands are shaking before him, and it’s like his whole corporation is buzzing.
Crowley takes a step towards him again, and takes off his sunglasses, putting them gently aside. They move their hands to cradle Aziraphale’s face in his hands, gently wiping away tears. Aziraphale looks up at them, and Crowley stares into his pale blue eyes. Tears still gather at the edges.
“Please…” he whispers.
Crowley leans in, slowly, and gently places his lips on Aziraphale’s. He grips onto them forcefully, hands no longer ghosting against their frame. He starts to kiss back, and Crowley marvels at how soft their angel’s lips are, and how warm he feels against them. This time, they take their time, seemingly in a place where time has stopped completely.
Crowley pulls back, taking a deep breath, and looks at Aziraphale. His eyes are puffy, and his cheeks are pink and hot. His tears have stopped, and his pupils are now blown. He has an awestruck look on his face. Crowley would’ve studied his expression longer, however Aziraphale had other ideas.
Impatiently, Aziraphale grabs the lapels of their jacket, and pulls them into a crushing kiss. Crowley can feel the heat between them, the result of six thousand years of longing and repressing their passion for one another. Their mouths move swiftly against each other, as Aziraphale grips Crowley’s jacket while Crowley’s hands roam up and down his sides. Crowley has wanted this, needed this, for so long.
However, they pull back again. “Angel?” they say softly.
“Huh?” he responds, dazed.
“I-” they know they need to be brave for this part, lest they never get it out. They were fairly certain Aziraphale was about to say it, before trying and failing to reject Crowley. So they push down their fear, and speak shakily, “I… Angel, I love you.”
“Oh,” he breathes out. His mouth is still slightly agape, “I- Crowley, I love you too.”
The words came out softly, so softly that at first their brain doesn’t even seem to register it. But when it hits them, it’s like the weight of the world, no, the universe, has been lifted off their shoulders. Like everything for the rest of eternity would be alright.
“I love you,” Aziraphale states louder again, seemingly amazed at himself for saying it, "I love you."
Crowley can’t help but smile, stifling a laugh, “I love you, too.”
“What are we going to do?” Aziraphale suddenly asks, worried.
“I- I don’t know,” they respond, “I really don’t know.”