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Somewhere outside of time
When the last of the credits had rolled, the television went black, then blinked out of existence.
“Well, that was a thing. What’d ya think, angel?”
“Humans. They really are something.”
“Yeah. Time to head home?” Crowley opened the passenger side door of the Bentley for Aziraphale.
“Indeed.” Aziraphale sat. When Crowley had walked around to the driver’s side, he added, “I suppose we should try to avoid running into the human versions of ourselves?”
Crowley shrugged.
“There do seem to be rather a lot of them.”
“Ngk. More every minute. But they’re okay.” He turned the key and the Bentley purred. “Not so sure about those ones where you’re a burly bearded demon and I’m a naive little angel, though.”
Aziraphale’s smile turned impish. “Oh, I don’t know. They do have a certain charm.”
“Bastard,” Crowley said fondly. “You think there’s one out there where you’re an ant and I’m the zombie-fungus that infects you?”
The angel arched one manicured eyebrow. “There is now.”
“Oops.” Crowley took hold of the steering wheel. “Right. Where to? The bookshop? The cottage? An incredibly swanky hotel with a massive bed?”
“Surprise me. After all, I’m sure there are already universes out there where we are doing all sorts of interesting things in all of those locations.”
“Grrnk,” Crowley choked.
Aziraphale leaned over and kissed him. The Bentley, figuring the ineffable canoodling might go on a while, drove off. After all, the angel and the demon didn’t much care where they were going as long as they went there together.
In another universe
“Um, hello?” said the ant. “I hate to be a bother but… are you infecting me?”
“Right, sorry,” said the fungus. “Shoulda introduced myself. I’m Crowley. I just needed a place to go and you’re the nicest ant around.”
“Oh.” The ant did the ant equivalent of blushing. “Thank you. I’m Aziraphale. You seem very nice, yourself.”
“Eh.” The fungus shrugged. (No, I don’t know how it did this.)
“Well, I like you already.”
“I like you too, angel.”
Back in the Bentley
Aziraphale broke the kiss, his brow furrowing.
“Crowley, if our love is creating all these universes, should we… limit the kissing?”
Crowley considered for a moment. “Nah. Gonna be oozing love no matter what we’re doing.”
“Good point.”
They resumed their kissing and the Bentley drove on. Thank goodness it had lots of universes to explore, because its silly, madly-in-love passengers might not come up for air for eons. It zoomed up to full speed, leaving love—and more universes—in its wake.