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When the dust settled and they were finally without threat of war, safely tucked in a back room of Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley let out a confession. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”
“When?”
“Too many times.” He scoffed. “I would never run off without you, but when I came back and you weren’t here – weren’t anywhere… I really thought I lost my best friend. And - our plan worked, but what if it hadn’t? What if you had stepped into that Hell fire?”
“Crowley…” Aziraphale said, voice soft and warm as a ray of sunlight.
Crowley glanced away as his eyes welled up, embarrassed, but not enough to stop himself from continuing. “I couldn’t handle that, Angel. I just couldn’t.”
“Stop that, dear. There’s no need for tears.” Aziraphale rose from his chair and stood in front of the demon, taking his face in his hands. “I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.” He placed a delicate kiss under Crowley’s eye, and then another, and another, until tears were dry and the hints of a smile were tugging at his lips.
“I…” Crowley struggled to find the right words.
Aziraphale smiled like he understood anyway. “I do so adore you.”