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Crowley was pacing in the back room of the bookshop. Well, not pacing exactly, just…wandering. Looking up, looking down…like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Every so often he’d sit down for a few seconds, then restlessly stand up and resume his nocturnal meanderings. The shop was in darkness save for the soft multi-coloured glow coming from the fairy lights on the Christmas tree that stood in the atrium of the shop. It made everything feel warm, despite the condensation which was forming in the corners of the window panes telling a different story. It gave the place a distinct Dickensian Christmas feel.
Aziraphale had been watching Crowley from the top of the spiral stairs for a short while, having sensed something was amiss when he’d heard his friend leave his room at such a late hour. Not wanting to startle him, he made sure as he descended that his feet made just enough sound on the last few treads for Crowley to hear he was there. The demon turned at the noise and ceased his movement, but didn’t say anything.
“Crowley? Are you OK?” Aziraphale asked, gently. There was a pause, as if Crowley was deciding how to answer.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled after a while.
“I gathered as much. What’s wrong?”
Crowley tilted his head back and let out an exasperated sigh, almost a growl. He turned to face Aziraphale.
“What’s wrong? What’s not, Angel?” Crowley didn’t quite know how this was going to play out, but it needed to be dealt with, and sooner rather than later. The middle of the night might not be the best time, but if this was the opportunity he was presented with…
“Aziraphale, I can’t do this anymore.” Aziraphale looked wary, scared of what Crowley might mean.
“Do what?” he asked, tentatively.
“This! Everything!” Crowley indicated the two of them and their general surroundings with a vague wave of his hands. “You’ve come back…I’m here, staying in your bookshop, with you…you’re carrying on as if this is all completely normal, and…we are not talking about the one thing that we need to talk about.” He paused for a breath. “I need to know what we are, Angel. Where we’re at. I can’t just…ignore it.”
Aziraphale looked slightly uncomfortable but also resigned. He knew they needed to do this, but he’d hoped they’d be able to find a way to do it - a time to do it - that felt…right. Then again, who was he kidding? It wasn’t going to be easy, and he couldn’t possibly avoid it now Crowley had brought it up, for fear of giving entirely the wrong message. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Yes,” he said. “I suppose we do need to talk. Well, I interrupted you last time – do you want to go first?”
Crowley paused, as if figuring out how to start.
“I…Look, just tell me what you feel, Angel. Please. I know how I feel. I thought I knew you felt the same. You can’t pretend you’d been hiding it - not before…you know…” He gestured upwards. “I thought I understood. I was ready to deal with it, to acknowledge…things. But then you…” The same gesture in the general direction of Upstairs. “Was I wrong?” he asked, quietly.
Aziraphale looked at him and regretted even more, if that were possible, the choice he had made what seemed now like an existence ago. He’d caused Crowley to doubt the one thing that he’d wanted to be able to make him certain of for so long, even if he couldn't – his love.
“No,” Aziraphale said, equally quietly. “You weren’t wrong. In fact you were very, very right.”
He could see a tiny glimmer of relief – and hope maybe? - in Crowley’s face at that.
“Then why?” he asked, “Why not admit…?”
Aziraphale hesitated. There were many reasons he could give, but he owed Crowley the utter truth at this point. “Because I was scared,” he said simply.
“Scared?” Crowley repeated. “Not of me, I hope?”
“No!” Aziraphale responded hurriedly. “Not of you, of course not!” The very idea was preposterous. “Please take this in the sentiment it’s intended, but you are the most unscary demon I’ve ever come across.” A thought suddenly entered his head. “Apart from maybe Beelzebub making puppy dog eyes at Gabriel,” he offered.
“That was certainly an unscary demon,” Crowley agreed, drily.
“But no, I wasn’t scared of you. I was – am – scared of losing you. What happens if it all goes wrong? If we – if I – mess it up, like I nearly did already? I…Crowley, I couldn’t bear the thought of you not being there.”
Crowley was about to dismiss the angel’s fears, but hesitated. If they were being totally honest with each other for the first time in…well, ever really…then wasn’t it true that he was just as scared of exactly that same thing? He crossed the floor to where Aziraphale was standing, reached down to take one hand between both of his, and brought it up to between their chests. He looked Aziraphale straight in the eye – he had to make sure there was no misunderstanding over what he was about to say.
“Angel. I’m scared too. I don’t want to lose you either. I thought I had, and I thought my world had ended.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “If it all goes wrong, we will work it out. We will figure it out between us, and we will fix it. Together. If we stopped Armageddon, surely we can do this? We’ve got the rest of our existence to get it right and make it work. But the rest of existence is a long time to live with the regret of not knowing what could have been. I think it’s worth the risk…don’t you?” He asked the question because he felt he had to, but he was still apprehensive about what the answer might be.
“Oh, Crowley” Aziraphale said, almost whispered, as he dropped his gaze. “I never was much of a match for your temptations.” He darted a look up from under his lashes.
Crowley smiled softly and understood what he was being told: I am OK with this, but I’m scared to make the move.
Still holding the angel’s hand with one of his, squeezing it gently and holding it to his chest, Crowley brought his other hand up to gently lift Aziraphale’s face so he was once again looking straight into the angel’s eyes.
“Then let me tempt you, Angel”, he said softly. Aziraphale hesitated for only a second, then gave the barest of nods, and Crowley leaned in and gently brought their lips together. It was only the scarcest, lightest of touches, a fleeting sensation, intended to give the angel plenty of opportunity to pull back if he needed to, but nevertheless it sent a sensation through Crowley that he had never experienced with that intensity before, and he thought his knees would give way under him. From the way he felt Aziraphale sag slightly, he figured it was having the same effect on him. He dared not move, and after a moment, he felt through the breath on his lips, as much as heard, the almost inaudible whisper in response: “Temptation accomplished”.
The relief that washed over Crowley was almost enough for his legs to give way again, but he was not going to let that happen. Not now. Not after all this time. He found his hand sliding round to the back of Aziraphale’s neck, entwining in his hair, as his other left the angel’s hand and reached round his waist to draw them together. He felt Aziraphale’s own hand pressing on his chest, his other snaking round his back, and they held each other as their lips met again, still the gentlest and most tender of kisses, but more sure this time. Crowley tried to convey everything with that kiss that he hadn’t been able to put into words: his love for Aziraphale, his respect for him, the place he’d held for him in his heart all these many, many years. He wanted to be able to show his angel everything he had, did and would mean to him - and he sensed exactly the same returned as he felt Aziraphale melt into the moment.
Aziraphale didn’t think Crowley had taken them out of time, but he really wouldn’t have known one way or another. All he knew was that the kiss was perfect. After a while he was dimly aware of the grandfather clock beginning to strike twelve behind him, and of flashes of light and muffled bangs as people around London welcomed in the new year with fireworks.
The chimes continued, and still they kissed. More and more fireworks, and still they kissed.
It seemed to last at once a lifetime and yet be over far too soon. The sensations he’d felt, the love…he just hoped he’d been able to convey back to Crowley everything he felt had been given to him in that perfect moment.
As their lips parted at last, Aziraphale felt Crowley’s cheek warm against his as the demon buried his face into his neck, holding him tightly.
“Well, there’s no going back now,” the angel chuckled softly.
Crowley brought his head up and leant his forehead against Aziraphale’s.
“Wouldn’t want to, Angel. Ever. Would you?”
“No, never,” Aziraphale breathed. “Happy new year, my dear. I suppose it’s true what they say about midnight being a magical time.”
“Happy new year indeed,” Crowley replied with a lopsided grin. “Let’s hope so, anyway.”
They held each other for a moment more, simply enjoying the closeness.
“Don’t leave me again, Angel,” Crowley whispered, dropping a kiss on to Aziraphale’s forehead.
Aziraphale thought back to that morning when an amnesiac Gabriel’s arrival had threatened to steal away their peaceful existence, and remembered Crowley’s indignation that Nina might think he was a bookseller too.
“Not even at gunpoint,” he replied, as Crowley laughed and wrapped him in his arms to hold him tight.