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“That one looks like you,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley sputtered indignantly.
“A mangshan pit viper? They’re green!”
It was a lovely day. Post-avoided-apocalypse meant that all days were lovely, really, and Aziraphale and Crowley quite enjoyed meandering through London without the threat of Heaven and Hell breathing down their necks. They found themselves in all sorts of places: quiet little curiosity shops that sold macabre keychains, playhouses of questionable ethics, and, on one memorable occasion, a biker bar. Today’s adventure was the London Zoo, which neither had ever managed to visit, despite living so close.
“Well, it’s still a snake, isn’t it?”
“You can’t say all snakes look alike. That’s problematic, that is.”
“My dear, variations in colour aside-”
“I’m going to throw your ice lolly to a monkey.”
“You wouldn’t!”
It was a toss up whether he would or not, since doing so would mean disappointing Aziraphale (something he had been avoiding for most of his existence) and also going against The Rules, which he did enjoy immensely. Still, Aziraphale clutched his ice lolly tighter and held it against himself, and Crowley admitted defeat.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re safe, Lady Bracknell.”
Aziraphale beamed, and Crowley’s heart did the thing it had been doing since the world didn’t end, and tried to beat out of his chest.
“Shall we go see the otters? You know how I’ve been looking forward to them,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley didn’t remind Aziraphale that he had been there when otters had been bloody well created, but instead made his way to the exit. The sun was bright even behind his glasses, and he squinted a bit at the sudden light. Aziraphale walked beside him down the path, finishing his ice cream and tossing the wrapper in the bin. His hands, typically clasped behind his back when he walked, swayed easily by his sides, and Crowley wondered just how easy it would be to let the back of his own brush Aziraphale’s, to tilt his hand just so and entwine their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world-
But then he was pulling them back behind him again, and Crowley sighed.
It shouldn’t be this hard. They’d saved the world twice, for someone’s sake. How hard could it possibly be to look at your best mate and say, “Hey, I think I’m in love with you”?
Aziraphale saw the sign pointing the direction of the otters and gave an excited wiggle, then grasped Crowley by the arm to pull him along the path.
Crowley thought apocalypses must be easier than this.
***
“Tilly and Pip! Oh my goodness, what wonderful names!” Aziraphale cooed at the enclosure, where two otters merrily chased one another in their pond.
The otter enclosure was typically very popular amongst the tourists, drawing young and old alike. Today, though, it appeared to be completely deserted, except for an angel and a demon (of course, neither had told the other of the slight miracle they’d done to keep it that way; Aziraphale had made sure the nearby animals were all out and looking especially cute, and Crowley had simply put up an air of “I will stab you with a fence post if you come over here”).
The otters, for their part, seemed to think that Aziraphale was the best thing they’d ever seen, and put on quite the show. They rolled and tumbled through the water, their distinct chattering an ever-present cacophony. Every once in a while, they’d roll close to the side of the plexiglass and bump against it, as though giving Aziraphale a gentle nudge to make sure he was still paying attention, and Aziraphale would wave happily at them.
Crowley thought he may combust in an explosion of rainbows and sparkles if he kept watching it, but couldn’t look away even if the world happened to try and end for a third time.
Eventually, Tilly and Pip wore themselves out and decided it was time for relaxing instead, and flipped over onto their backs, looping their paws together and chirping sleepily.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale nudged him. “Look, they’re holding paws!”
“It’s so they don’t float away from each other,” Crowley said at once, motioning to the wooden placard set up beside the enclosure. “Says so on the sign, anyway.”
Aziraphale slipped his reading glasses on from his pocket and bent over to read it, as serious as if it were a religious text.
“Ah, yes, I see,” he said, nodding. “It does say they mate for life, after all. Rather like us.”
Crowley was quite sure time must have stopped, and this time he didn’t actually have a hand in it. His stomach did an interesting thing where it tried to flip inside out while also turning to molten lava, and his mouth fell open to release what may be best described as,
“Hrng?”
Aziraphale hadn’t paid it any mind, and was instead looking back at the cosily sleeping otters, a smile on his face.
“I suppose I don’t have to hold your hand to make certain you don’t float away.”
Crowley unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
“Y-You could. You know. Hold my hand. And stuff.”
Aziraphale’s spine stiffened, and he turned to face Crowley with an extraordinary amount of restraint.
“...Could I?”
He took a step closer.
“Only been wanting you to for six thousand years, angel,” Crowley said, cheeks a brilliant shade of pink.
“And if I wanted to kiss you, my dear…could I do that as well?”
Oh, he was a bit of a bastard.
“I think I’d let you,” Crowley aimed for nonchalant and missed by about a continent.
“Finally,” Aziraphale said, or at least that’s what Crowley thought he said, because the next moment, his arms were full of warm, happy angel, who happened to be kissing him senseless.
A loud chirping, like spectators at a game, erupted, and Aziraphale pulled back, adoration written in his eyes and cheeks a rosy pink. He pressed another short, chaste kiss to Crowley’s lips and hugged him close.
“Ngk, not in front of Tilly and Pip,” Crowley said, but there was no heat in it, and his lovestruck smile couldn’t be seen as anything but positive.
“I think they can understand the sentiment, my love.”