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“Isn’t it the quaintest thing in the entire universe?” Anthony announced dramatically as he hopped off the removal van.
Exiting from the car parked behind it, their friends laughed.
“It is adorable,” Anathema said.
“Yeah, I want the same one,” Newton added, placing his arm around her waist.
“You can,” Anthony replied, tucking his hands into his tiny pockets. “Just not next to us, please. We're not leaving London just to have you two popping in the house next door!”
The yellow door of the charming cottage opened, Asa walking up the alley with his arms wide open.
“Welcome! Welcome!” he said theatrically. “In our humble home.”
He walked to Anthony, wrapping his arms around him, and kissed his cheek. “How was the drive, darling?”
“T'was fine. Is everything ready?”
Asa had travelled South before him to anticipate their moving day, opening the cottage and letting it breathe a little before all the boxes and furniture would arrive. He also was carrying with him their most cherished belongings: a crate of first editions he had inherited from Derek when they'd closed the shop in SoHo, and Anthony's fragile telescope. The rest was knickknacks and could very well go at the back of the van.
“Let's get to work!”
The entire afternoon was spent unloading the boxes, and reassembling furniture.
“How hard can it be?” Anthony growled as he ended up with yet another screw that had no place.
“It's only difficult because you're not following the manual, dear,” Asa answered.
“Following the- I am an astrophysicist! I worked for the bloody European Space Agency! I don't need a manual for a stupid Ikea bed!”
“Retired astrophysicist,” Asa pointed out.
He ignored his husband mouthing Retired astrophysicist in a mocking manner, and came back in the living room, where Anathema and Newton were still unboxing years of accumulated possession, that the couple had regrouped when moving in together in London five years ago, and that would now find their rightful place in the quaintest cottage in whole Britain. Or, the entire universe, according to Anthony.
“I think I'm going to make some tea,” Asa said.
He pottered around the kitchen, trying to remember where everything was stored in order to prepare a tray and four cups. Humming happily along a tune, he let his fists mark the rhythm in front of him as the water boiled. He made a full tea-pot, a rare occurrence when it was just the two of them, placed a little jar of milk and a plate of biscuits on the tray, and brought it back to the living room.
“Tea time!” he announced, playing it on the coffee table.
“Oh, perfect,” Newton sighed. “I need a break from all that dust.” He pushed the cardboard box he was emptying and stood up to join him.
Anthony emerged from the bedroom, stretching his back with a grunt.
“How's the bed-building, dear?” Asa asked in a soft voice.
His husband let himself fall into the sofa, sprawling. “All that work only to break the slats at the first hint of activity, if you know what I mean.”
He snorted, wiggling his eyebrows and making Newton blush.
“Everybody knows what you mean,” Asa replied quietly, pouring tea in everybody’s cup. “Besides, we both know you’re far too old to break any slats anymore.”
Anthony gasped dramatically. “You bastard,” he said, his accent making explosive consonants sound even harsher. “I will not accept such slander! We shall settle this this very evening! I hope you two didn’t plan on staying with us!”
“Eww!” Anathema protested, preventing Asa from keeping their bickering on. “We do not need to know so much!”
He chuckled, exchanging a complicit look with Anthony as he gave him his tea.
“Thanks, luv,” the red-head said, taking it with a little wink.
“Anathema, my dear girl, do you want one?” Asa asked once Newton was served too.
“Sure,” she answered in an absent voice.
“You alright?” Anthony asked.
“Yeah. Say, where did you get that snow globe?”
Asa frowned, rubbing his palm at the back of his neck where he could feel his hairs rising up. “What snow globe?” he asked absentmindedly, without looking at her.
Silence stretched for a few seconds as Ana watched the globe in her hands, barely tilting it to the side, the white powder inside moving slightly. Anthony winced, a little flash of pain poking him behind the eyes. He reached inside his breast pocket for a pair of dark sunglasses, and replaced his normal ones.
“Never mind,” Anathema said, shaking her head.
She placed the globe on the mantel and took the cup of tea offered by Asa.
They made a run for it, trying to take cover under Anthony’s black coat, yelping as the rain turned into a shower, soaking them through their clothes. By the time they reached the cottage, they were laughing so much Anthony struggled to unlock the door, leaving them several more seconds under the rain. He shook his head like a wet dog in the entryway, taking off his glasses to wipe them with his shirt, only smearing more water on the lenses.
Next to him, Asa let out a relieved sigh, running his fingers in his hair to comb it back. He chuckled and closed the gap between them, sliding his hands on each side of Anthony’s waist, and covered his lips with his own, indulging in a deep, slow kiss broken by soft giggles.
Later that afternoon, after a shared shower to warm themselves up, Asa lit up a fire in the chimney, the first of the season. Meanwhile, Anthony poured them glasses of red and opened a packet of crisps. They cuddled on the sofa, chatting effortlessly at times, revelling in the shared, comfortable silence at others.
“Do you miss London?” Anthony asked at some point.
He had his head on Asa’s lap, his eyes half closed as perfectly manicured fingernails scratched his scalp softly.
“Not really,” the man answered after a short moment. “I suppose I do, sometimes. But then again, this is everything I could ever have dreamed of.”
“Hm. Me too. Comes spring, I’m gonna start a garden. That apple tree in the backyard needs tending to.”
“I trust you with that, darling. You know I’m rubbish with plants.”
Anthony snorted. He remembered the fate of the poor cactus he had offered to the man in the first months of their relationship. Who on Earth lets a cactus die?
“I’ll plant peas,” he said.
“Hmhm.”
“We could feed them to the ducks,” Anthony added, tilting his head back to watch his husband.
Asa frowned. “Why would we give the peas to ducks?”
“‘Cause people feed them bread but it’s actually bad for them. I read that in a magazine.”
“That’s interesting, I didn’t know that. Excuse me, dear boy, I have to refill the hearth.”
Anthony held himself up with a groan, letting Asa stand up. He went to the fireplace, carefully putting on the protective mittens before he moved the hot grid away, and crouched to add a log and poke at the embers beneath it.
When he stood back up, his eyes slid on the snow globe resting on the mantelpiece. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the mitten on it, taking off the dust it had been gathering. Then, he took off the gloves, and turned back to Anthony, who was looking at his phone.
“Another glass, darling?” he offered.
“What the Hell did you do?” Anthony growled, reaching his hands forwards in hope of not slamming into a wall.
Not that he didn’t trust Asa guiding him, but let’s be honest here, the man had an history of clumsiness. He let himself be guided around the cottage, more or less knowing where he was by peeking at the ground through his eyelids. At his side, holding his elbow to make him walk forward, his husband was giggling.
“I-I know we said we’d talk about it first,” he said excitedly as they reached the backyard, “but I saw her and couldn’t resist for a second. Open your eyes.”
Anthony did. And even if he had guessed what was waiting for him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart melt at the sight of the black puppy wagging its tail and pulling on the lead that kept it near the garden table.
“Happy anniversary, darling,” Asa said.
“Oh my God,” Anthony said, dropping to his knees, the Labrador immediately climbing on his lap to lick his face. “She’s adorable! Hi girl! Hellow,” he cooed. The pup had a red ribbon knotted around her neck, making her look like a proper gift. Anthony scratched her black fur, chuckling. “You’re adorable, yes you are, aren’t you my girl?”
He looked up, smiling so widely his cheeks were hurting, and found Asa’s soft smile on him. The man had clenched his hands together over his heart, and his eyes were full of happy tears. Anthony hauled himself back up, leaving the little dog to yap at his feet, demanding more cuddles. He approached, bringing his hands on each sides of the man’s face, and kissed him.
“Thank you, luv. Happy anniversary.”
He reached inside his pocket and took out an envelope. Asa took it, wiggling his shoulders happily, and delicately tore it open.
“Oh my!” he said, unfolding the piece of paper inside. “How did you even get us seats? The show has been sold out for months!”
Anthony grinned widely. “Well it’s a good thing I know when our wedding anniversary is at least a year in advance then,” he said with a teasing flash of teeth. “I can anticipate stuff like that.”
Asa made a face at him before redirecting his attention to the theatre tickets.
“Too bad we won’t be able to go,” Anthony sighed.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, we’d have to go to London for at least a weekend, and now we can’t do that because we have a little gremlin, and those are not allowed at the National.”
Said little gremlin was currently taking a shit on Anthony’s perfectly tended to lawn.
“Oh, we’ll find a way,” Asa replied, waving his hand dismissively.
The puppy moved to the patch of vegetables Anthony had been carefully growing for the last three years. “I swear to God, if she pees on my zucchinis, you’re eating them,” he grumbled. “Come here gremlin! Let’s get inside!”
He sprawled on the sofa, enjoying the welcomed coolness of the living room, watching the little dog zoom across the carpet.
“What are we gonna call her?” he asked, yawning.
Asa was standing by the mantel, his back turned to Anthony, his eyes lingering on the trinkets and frames pictures they had there.
“Snow globe,” he murmured, barely audible.
“Wut?” Anthony snorted, “I mean, I don’t mind the irony of a black pup being called Snow, but… y’know.”
“Hm?” Asa said, turning to him, his eyes a little veiled. “Oh no, no. What do you want to call her, dear?”
Anthony grabbed the dog, and held her in front of his face, watching her wiggle. “What about… Bentley?”
His partner frowned, confused. “What’s that?”
“Ben- It’s a car, Asa! A classic car brand, it’s cool. I’ve always wanted a Bentley, I’ve told you that a thousand times!”
The man chuckled softly. “Have you?”
“Yes! Time and time again!”
“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I’m afraid I tune you down when you start talking about cars.”
Anthony gasped, outraged. “You don’t do that!”
“Of course I do. And so do you, actually.”
“No I don’t!”
“You don’t? Then what did I say about Shostakovitch this morning over breakfast?”
The red-head opened his mouth to no sound, and gradually closed it before he shrugged. “Fair enough,” he admitted. “So, what do you think of the name?”
“Bentley?” Asa said, sitting down next to him and gently reaching to stroke the puppy’s head. “I like it. It suits her.”
Asa climbed up on the step stool to reach for the biscuit jar that was hidden on top of the kitchen cupboard. Armed with a decent-sized biscuit and a cup of tea, he ventured into the garden, where he found Anthony knelt on the ground, elbows deep in the soil of his vegetable patch. He was grumbling, as often, and from an outside, it truly looked like he was threatening the poor plants. Further on the lawn, Bentley was rolling on her back. She yelped and barked as a butterfly landed on her nose, and then proceeded to zoom around the garden like a black lighting of fur. Despite being a full grown dog now, she still had the energy of a puppy.
“Did she dig up everything?” Asa asked, mouth full of biscuit.
Anthony raised his head, and rubbed the back of his wrist on his forehead, wiping away the sweat, and leaving a bit of dust. “Yeah,” he said. “Again.”
“I’m sorry,” Asa said, wincing sheepishly. He took a sip of tea, his eyes following the dog’s mad run through the beds of flowers.
His husband sighed and stood up, wiping his hands on his worn-out jeans. He approached, making his arms sway at his sides and cocking his hips before he regained his normal gait with a chuckle. Asa couldn’t help the way his eyes went up and down the man’s body.
“Where did you get that biscuit?” Anthony asked, cocking his hip to the side and crossing his arms.
Asa swayed on himself, guilty as a fox caught with his mouth full of chicken.
“In the jar on top of the cupboard,” he muttered.
“That’s my biscuit jar, I thought we agreed.”
“We're married, dear,” Asa tried to argue. “What's yours is mine.”
Anthony wiggled his forefinger. “No, no, no. My jar. Otherwise I don't see the colour of one because you eat everything as soon as I buy them.”
Asa tutted, and raised his hand holding the half eaten biscuit. Anthony grinned and leaned down to take a good chunky bite out of it.
Chuckling, the bookseller rubbed his thumb over the red-head's lips to catch the crumbs before he pressed a soft kiss on them.
“Ooh you make me live!”
Asa frowned at the sound of the song coming from the kitchen. He placed his shoes under the bench in the entryway, undid the lead holding back Bentley, letting her zoom forward and straight onto the sofa, and followed Anthony’s voice.
He leaned on the frame of the kitchen door, a sappy smile on his face, watching the man singing along and dancing, his voice covering the sound of his phone.
“Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had!” Anthony sung, wiggling his butt as he stirred the sauce inside the pan.
He turned around in a little dance move, and his eyes and smile went wider at the sight of Asa. He could have been embarrassed, and maybe, in another life he would have been. But he really loved that song, and he really loved that smile on his husband's face, and the fact that it was all for him.
“You're my sunshine,” he continued, taking the man's hand and pulling him into the kitchen, “and I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really love you!”
Laughing, Asa let himself melt into the embrace, one arm around the red-head’s shoulder, one hand in his hand, and Anthony made them sway.
“Oh, you're my best friend,” he murmured in his ear before he took both his hands and put some distance between them, only to make Asa spin under his arm. “In rain or shine, you've stood by me, girl, I'm happy at home. You're my best friend.”
As much as he was enjoying this. Asa couldn't ignore the angry bubble raising from the pan anymore.
“Anthony, your sauce,” he said in a chuckle.
“Oh! Shit!” He dropped Asa's hands to go back to the stove and stir. “How was the walk?” he asked.
“Oh, you know. The usual. What are you making?”
Asa wrapped his arms around Anthony's chest, propping his chin on his shoulder.
“Oh, nothing fancy.”
Anthony held up the wooden spoon, and blew on it softly before he presented it to his husband’s lips. Asa tasted, closing his eyes, and let out a sigh. It tasted like summer.
“Well, nothing fancy is delicious,” he said. “I’ll set up the table.”
Anthony shuffled in bed, awakened by the shivers radiating from Asa. He rolled around, putting a concerned hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Are you alright, luv?” he asked.
Asa sniffed, and shook his head. Anthony reached for his forehead, finding it damp with sweat and burning.
“Oh you have a wee fever,” he whispered. “I’ll make you tea.”
He kissed his shoulder, where his thumb had been rubbing circles, and left the bed. In the corner of the room, Bentley barely moved an ear. He wrapped himself into his robe, stole the man’s warm slippers, and went to the kitchen to put a kettle to boil. While the water warmed up, he went to the fireplace to start a fire and try to warm up the cottage. He broke pallet wood, wincing at the pain in the joints of his fingers, and lit up a flame under the little pile. Once he was certain the fire was catching properly, he added a log.
He stood back up, wiping his hands against each other, and let his eyes roam on the pictures on the mantelpiece. One of their wedding, trusting the centre stage, and then collages of their fifteen years together. Journeys, anniversaries, Christmases. Happy moments. With more and more grey in their hair as years went by. Anthony smiled fondly, reaching to take the picture of the three of them, baby Bentley on their lap, and place it on a better spot. As he did, his fingers brushed against the dusty snow globe that remained here. He frowned, looking at it. It was both foreign, and strangely familiar. He was about to pick it up when the click of the kettle called for his presence. His hand fell back by his side, and he forgot all about the globe.
He made tea, with thyme and lemon, ruffled through the cabinets to find Ibuprofen, and went back to the bedroom. He helped Asa to sit up, placing the cup of tea in his hand.
“I’ll call the doctor first thing in the morns, alright?” he said.
The man nodded. He took the tablet without complaining, drank the tea, and lay back down. Anthony came back under the covers.
“Are you hot or cold?” he asked.
“Cold.”
Anthony approached, and wrapped himself around the man’s back, shushing softly against the skin of his neck.
“You’ll get sick too,” Asa complained.
“Then you’ll pamper me.”
They heard a ruffling sound, and the mattress dipped under the added weight of Bentley.
“Bent, no!” Anthony tried, but his husband pulled on his hand.
“It’s alright, darling. Let her.”
Squished between his husband and their dog, Anthony sighed. He didn’t fall back asleep that night, his entire attention focused on how the man in his arms was breathing, on the sound of his teeth occasionally chattering, on the steady rhythm of his heart beat.
“Cocoa delivery,” Asa announced, ambling towards the deck chairs, where he found Anthony with his eye glued to the lens of his telescope. “Hm, scrumptious,” he added, taking a sip of his own before he put the second mug in the man’s hand and sat down. “How are the celestial bodies tonight? Behaving?”
“Hm. It’s the Eta Aquarid meteor shower,” Anthony replied, before he lifted his eye off the lens and reclined into his chair. “We mightn’t need a telescope, we can see it with the naked eye!”
“Ah, maybe we should, ah, look at them together.”
“Hmhm,” the man said into his mug of cocoa, wiggling to get comfortable.
Asa turned his head to look at him briefly before he reported his attention to the black sky above them. They stayed quiet, the silence only broken by the buzzing noise of insects in the branches of Anthony’s luxurious garden.
“Oh look!” Asa said as a ray of light pierced the sky. “A shooting star.”
“Oh…”
He was going to say it. Asa knew Anthony was holding it back, but he was going to say it eventually.
“Technically it’s- it’s meteorite debris from Halley’s comet.”
Here we go. Asa sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Well, I- I know it’s not a real shooting star, but I want to make a wish,” he said.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, ignoring Anthony going “Oh, right”, next to him. He let fond memories of them flood his mind, focused all his attention on their love, and wished. He wished for more time. He wished for this, always and forever.
He nodded, opening his eyes with a little smile. “There,” he murmured.
Anthony didn’t ask what he’d wished for. Maybe he knew.
“D’you hear that bird?” he asked instead. “That’s definitely a nightingale.”
Asa frowned. He could hear the chirping alright, but he didn’t know his husband to be a bird expert. “How can you tell?”
“Well, it’s not an owl. And it’s night.”
Asa chuckled. “You wouldn’t know a nightingale if it perched on the end of your nose.”
“It’s definitely, definitely a nightingale,” Anthony assured him.
“Do you ever wonder if there’s… anything more than this?” Asa pointed his finger at the garden, the sky, the air, everything.
Not getting an answer, he turned his head to look at Anthony, who finally spoke in a very determined tone.
“I don’t need anything more than this. I-I have the universe out there, and I have you.”
Asa felt his heart get bigger in his chest. His husband’s hand dropped on his, squeezing it on top of the armrest, their wedding rings catching the faint lights illuminating their garden.
“I have everything I’ve ever wanted,” Anthony added.
Asa smiled, squeezing back the man’s fingers, and gently dropped his head on his shoulder. There was nothing to add to that, nothing clever to argue about. This was there life, their universe, and the fact that they got to enjoy it together, until the very end, was enough.
Asa stared through the window, his forgotten morning tea turning cold in his hand. Outside was grey, cold and rainy, like most days lately. He reported his attention on the newspaper open on the table, and sighed. He didn’t have the focus necessary for the daily crosswords anymore. He folded it, leaving it for later, and padded to the bedroom. He gave Bentley a little pat on the head, but the old girl barely moved.
“Anthony, darling, are you awake?” he asked.
The stroke had taken both of them by surprise. It had left Anthony’s body diminished and his mind struggling to make itself heard.
Asa approached the bed, his eyes meeting with his husband’s brown ones in the dark. Anthony gave him a one sided smile, raising his arm to welcome him. Asa leaned down, joining their lips briefly.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Okay. You?”
“Like a charm,” he lied. “Ready to get up?”
“Hmhm.”
Asa pulled the covers, and wrapped Anthony’s arm around his shoulders to gently haul him up, making him seat up. He closed the escaped buttons of his pyjama top and smoothed the fabric.
“Wanted to turn you on,” Anthony said. “Y’don’t like that?”
Asa chuckled and kissed him again. “You don’t have to go all that length,” he said, earning a soft laugh.
Carefully, he helped his husband put on his robe and slippers. He reached for the cane in the corner of the room before he came back to the bed and lifted him. Anthony’s hand gripped the handle of the cane in a little shake. Step after step, the man exited the bedroom, dragging his feet to the loo.
“Can still piss by myself, thanks,” he said, like he did every morning.
Asa smiled, and stayed near the door anyway, just in case. Anthony exited the bathroom and shook his head at him. “You stubborn man,” he grumbled, pressing a kiss on the top of his head before he started his slow battle along the corridor. “Hello old girl,” he cooed at the sight of Bentley.
The dog rose from her bed, wagging her tail, and came to lick the man’s hand. She wasn’t in the best shape either.
“No luck with the puzzle today?” Anthony asked once he was seated at the table.
Asa pottered around the kitchen, making him tea. He cut some fruits inside a bowl of yogurt and placed it in front of Anthony.
“You know what I’d like, before I die?” the red-head — who was now completely grey — asked.
“Don’t say that!” Asa protested, but his husband only chuckled.
“Bacon. Sausages.”
Asa’s mouth watered a little. He too, had been cut off for a while.
“A glass of wine,” Anthony added. He reached over and took Asa’s in his shaky hand. “What I’d give to watch you eat a full english breakfast right now…”
“Wine for breakfast?”
“Why not? It’s a thing, apparently. Alcoholic breakfasts. We should have that, one day.”
Asa smiled softly, and raised their joined hands to his mouth to kiss Anthony’s knuckles. “Sure,” he said.
Much later that day, Asa was listening to the rain hitting against the glass. Anthony had fallen asleep in his armchair, one foot propped up on Bentley’s back. The cottage was quiet, the only sound heard the ticking of the grandfather clock.
Asa rubbed his hand at the back of his neck, wincing at the tickling sensation of his hairs rising up. He stood up, and started to pace, an uneasy feeling gripping at his chest, his throat tightening more and more every time his eyes landed on Anthony. With a sniffle, he stopped by the mantelpiece and took the framed picture of their wedding day in his hands. With a sigh, he brought the frame to his heart and held it there for a few seconds, closing his eyes.
Shaking, he put it back, his hand knocking something over as he retracted. He caught the snow globe before it toppled over the edge, and, for the first time, looked at it. He’d never really paid attention to it. He knew it was there, but he didn’t remember buying it, or putting it here. He didn’t remember looking at it. Now that it was in his hand, it felt heavy and real.
The tickling sensation at the back of his neck was back. Anthony stirred in his sleep, wincing, and even Bentley raised her head.
Asa looked at the globe. Inside was a building, with a bright red front. Squinting his tired eyes, he peered inside.
“A.Z Fell and co,” he read.
A sob made his way to his throat, the eerie feeling of having lost something, something so dear and so important it didn’t make sense for him to have forgiven at all. Lips quivering, he rushed to put the globe back on its spot on the mantel, but a bark from Bentley startled him. He looked at the old dog. He looked at Anthony. He looked at the globe.
And turned it upside down.
Fake snow trickled down, falling into a storm when Asa put the globe on the right side. He took a long, sharp inhale, waiting, tears dropping down his cheeks.
A sharp pain pierced his head, his hand opening, letting the snow globe fall and smash on the wooden floor. Asa screamed, holding his temples.
It burned. It burned so much, like his head was about to explode. His back hurt too, as if someone was slicing through his shoulder blades.
Everything went white.
And Aziraphale remembered. He remembered when the morning stars sung together and all the angels of God shouted for joy. He remembered Job and Elspeth, he remembered Mr Harmony, and Uriel, and every creature of the Earth, big and small. And at the same time, he didn’t. Because God didn’t exist. He couldn’t feel her, not here, not in this reality.
Breathless, he blinked a few times, staring at the shattered globe on the floor. He remembered the bookshop, his bookshop. Oh, and he remembered-
He swirled on his feet, scanning the room, terror seizing him. Bentley had ran away, and Anthony wasn’t in his chair any longer. His cane was on the floor, forgotten.
“Oh my,” he whispered. “What have I done?”
A noise coming from the kitchen startled him. The door opened, a tall, slim figure crossing the threshold.
“Oh,” Aziraphale whispered, “Crowley…”
The bright red in his hair was back, just a stroke of grey marbling it, the lines on his skin fewer, but still adorning his beautiful yellow eyes, his smirk more wicked than ever.
“Hello, angel,” he purred.
Aziraphale burst into a sob, his hand on his mouth. In two long strides, the demon was next to him, his arms around him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. He even smelled of hot leather again. Aziraphale cried against his chest, feeling him slowly losing his cool too.
He remembered being Asa. He remembered having a mum, and a dad, studying, teaching, having friends, making love. He remembered meeting Anthony and feeling brave enough to ask for his number. He remembered falling in love. He remembered their first night together, the heat and the sweetness, the burn of their bodies working in perfect harmony to reach a peak he’d never reached before. He remembered sliding that ring on the man’s finger, promising him his forever.
He remembered everything, from the birth of the Universe to that decision they had taken together under the Tree, for the first time in their lives completely hidden from God’s and Satan’s eyes. And the plan they had built before going back.
“We did it,” he murmured.
“We did, angel. We really did.”
Aziraphale detached himself, his tears leaving a big damp spot on Crowley’s shirt. He reached up, his fingers following all those familiar lines with reverence. The demon’s eyes were shimmering gold, full of stars. His long hands cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, and gently, he leaned forward and joined their lips.
Their first kiss. Or maybe it was the last of an impossible amount.
A loud honk coming from the front yard made them both jump, and Crowley gasped, his head instantly turning towards the noise. He left Aziraphale’s hold, rushing to yank the door open and let out a loud scream of unabashed joy, literally jumping on the spot.
“Hello girl!”
Smiling from ear to ear, he turned to Aziraphale again and jolted his head. Not wasting a second, the angel joined him by the door. The beloved old car was parked in the alleyway, not a scratch on her black coat, and next to her was a black Labrador who rushed to greet them, jumping on the spot to demand pets.
Both angel and demon burst into laughter, their grey wings mingling in their backs, forming the shape of a heart. Aziraphale looked at Crowley, and only now noticed the absence of the sigil on his cheek.
“You don’t feel her either, do you?” he asked, running the tip of his fingers on the demon’s skin.
Crowley shook his head. “No, angel. I think we’re free this time. Truly free. Forever.”