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A tree stood tall in the centre of the bookshop, its trunk thick and withered with age. Aziraphale and Crowley seemed utterly surrounded by thick, verdant foliage; glorious flowers and bushes and vines twisting themselves amongst the bookshelves. It didn’t feel out of place, strangely enough, despite the generally accepted idea that gardens were not congruent with the insides of bookshops. Aziraphale couldn’t help but think that this perhaps would have been what the inside of A.Z. Fell Co might have looked like if he had been brave enough to ask Crowley to officially move in.
The inside of his chest constricts at such a thought, and Aziraphale wills it away with a practiced ease. Thinking such things was useless, for there was no world for them to live in together. He looked over Crowley, busy stroking the curling bark of the tree with a gentleness that never failed to astound Aziraphale. His heart swelled with fondness. His bookshop, a garden, and Crowley. If there had been an Earth left, Aziraphale was sure that where he stood would be the most beautiful place in the world.
Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut; there he went again, totally consumed by silly fantasies. He and Crowley were there for a reason, and Aziraphale was certain that benevolent or not, God would not wait for them forever.
Aziraphale cleared his throat. Crowley’s head snapped at an inhuman speed, all attention now directed towards him. His mouth was pinched, slumped downwards, and his brows were furrowed. Aziraphale longed to press his finger to that spot between his eyebrows and wipe his frown away. But even here, alone in his beloved bookshop with his favourite person, he was too afraid to commit to such whims.
“What did God say to you, Crowley?”
Crowley wasn’t wearing his glasses. His eyes were so wonderfully expressive, but Aziraphale hated to see them so full of woe. “She gave me an ultimatum. She’s letting us make a choice,” he replied in a clipped tone.
Ah. An ultimatum. Oh dear. That certainly was no good.
Aziraphale was quiet. He could see Crowley’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, trying his best to get the dreaded words out.
“She said… She said we can save humanity and let them be free of Heaven and Hell for once and for all.”
“Or?”
“Or we can stay here, together, in this bookshop for the rest of time.”
An easy choice, with the way Crowley had framed it. Aziraphale knew he was holding something back. He had long learnt the bitter lesson to dismiss those irksome feelings of hope that he and Crowley could finally reach their happy ending.
“You’re keeping something from me. What else, Crowley?”
Crowley sighed and took a small step forward. He couldn’t seem to look up. “No Heaven and Hell, Angel. No angels or demons, no Horsemen.”
“Oh. No us.”
Crowley hummed affirmingly. His nostrils flared and Aziraphale knew he was trying not to break face.
“That rather complicates things.”
“She always manages to make things complicated.”
Aziraphale laughed humourlessly. The entire situation was execrable. It reminded him of Eden; God luring them in with what She knew both of them desired more than anything in existence to tempt them from the paradise they apparently now had the opportunity to recreate.
And Aziraphale had to admit, he was tempted. He was so exhausted of fruitlessly taking up the position of humanity’s champion in the face of the Lord and Heaven’s indifference, so tired of trying to be the perfect angel. God had said it Herself; Aziraphale was lazy, gluttonous and prideful. He had never been very good at his job – his devotion to Her had been subordinate to his besetment for a wise and wily old serpent for thousands of years now. And after all those eons of fearing punishment for both him and Crowley if he so much as acknowledged such feelings, why should Aziraphale say no to the offer God was bestowing to them?
But it would never happen, Aziraphale knew. Though his fondness for humanity seemed to have hit its limit in his exhaustion, he knew Crowley would grant him the strength to persevere. Though the demon had been begging Aziraphale to run off with him for near a decade now, Aziraphale knew Crowley would never wish away the lives of billions. Crowley may have been a good angel, but he was his best as he was now, far kinder than the Mother that had cast him aside.
The decision was made before Crowley had even been given the question. He expected God knew as much. And though he wanted to hate Her, Aziraphale could not help but think that this was Her final act of Love in allowing them this moment alone.
“What do you want, Crowley?”
“’S’not just me making this decision, Angel; what do you want?”
It was a textbook Crowley answer, always prioritising Aziraphale. But that would not do, not anymore. Although he secretly basked in the attention, Aziraphale was awfully aware of how fine the line was between ‘appreciating’ and ‘taking advantage of’ Crowley’s kindness. “Crowley. You are so eager to please. You deserve to have your own voice heard. God never listened. And I never listened, either. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Nothing to be sorry for. Like you say, I want to…ngh, please you. I never needed to be heard. I just wanted to listen.” It was a blatant lie, they both knew it. Crowley seemed to be glancing everywhere but Aziraphale’s face, eyes darting about as if he were scanning for danger.
“There is rather a lot to be sorry for, actually! We both know that.”
“Angel, it’s fine, really. We’re on a time crunch here, got a decision to make and all – “
“Crowley, please!” Aziraphale begged. It was a dirty trick, he knew, because Crowley had always been weak to his pleas. But it had become alarmingly obvious of late how little Crowley thought of himself, and Aziraphale was willing to do anything to prove him otherwise.
Crowley shut up.
“You have always heard me. Even when I’ve said such awful things. I have always gotten what I wanted when it comes to you. Well,” Aziraphale clucked his tongue, “mostly. Put a pin in that.”
The demon did a double take, his eyes finally returning to Aziraphale’s. The implication was clear, but Aziraphale had to march forward – his apology, which was particularly ill-timed considering that they were in the middle of discussing the fate of humanity, was more important for the time being.
“Dearest, you’ve never received that same treatment. You are the only being who set out to question the senseless cruelty of it all, and no one ever listened. Not Heaven or Hell, certainly not God. And though your questions have always struck a chord with me, I never lent you the courtesy of knowing that.
“I have exploited your generosity for millennia. Heaven was…awful, as you know. But you, you were always there. You listened to me. Gave me everything I didn’t know I needed, or…or wanted, for that matter, under the guise of trying to tempt me. And you never asked for anything in return. And despite what I tried to ignore, I knew that you had a strange fondness for me – “
Crowley opened his mouth to interrupt, but, as was his nature, closed it with a click when he remembered Aziraphale’s request to hear him out.
“ – and I took advantage of it to comfort my own misgivings with myself. I’m sorry for that,” Aziraphale placed a hand over where his corporation’s heart would be.
Crowley shook his head minutely and placed his hands in the pockets of his impossibly tight jeans. “S’okay, Angel. Really. But I accept your apology.”
The tight squeeze in Aziraphale’s chest loosened ever-so-slightly; he craved Crowley’s forgiveness and understanding like a dying man. Though he had much more to apologise for (and very little time left to do so), he was grateful that they had, at the very least, started to talk. Properly talk.
“Thank you, my dear. It means...everything. But, I must ask you again; what do you want?”
Crowley’s golden stare was fixed intently on Aziraphale’s eyeline. He swallowed, taking his hands from his pockets to fiddle with his fingers as he opened his mouth to finally declare what he and Aziraphale had been skirting around for the past ten minutes. For the past few centuries, really. No words came out.
Crowley groaned at himself and let his arms hang loosely by his sides. Aziraphale had terrible flashbacks to a very similar confession that had been on the forefront of his mind during the entirety of his silly stint as Supreme Archangel. This time would be different, however. This time, Aziraphale would welcome Crowley’s words with wide open arms rather than reject them for fear of blasphemy.
“You know what I want, Aziraphale. I want you. I always have. You are the only thing I’ve ever needed in this silly, messy existence.”
Aziraphale smiled sadly. He grit his teeth to halt the wobbling of his bottom lip as he felt his nose begin to itch and cheeks starting to flush. He couldn’t stop the fat drops of hot tears welling up in his eyes, though. He had read enough books to know when a ‘but’ was coming.
“But you said it yourself. And you were right, despite whatever I said. We’d never be happy knowing everyone was wiped. They’re idiotic buggers with a terrifying streak for evil, but they also have this…this fire and creativity and potential that’s just…S’just so…”
“Human?” Aziraphale smiled.
“Yeah. Yeah, human I suppose. Bloody annoying. They can be so bewilderingly awful, I know, but we’d’ve had no Bentley or bookshop or…or comfortable clothes – “ Crowley gestured broadly in Aziraphale’s direction, “ – or walks in the park, or lunches together without them.”
Aziraphale beamed. It was a fundamental fact of the universe that Crowley was nice, and Aziraphale loved listening when Crowley felt at ease enough to reveal that core trait of his. “This reminds me of before the End Times, you know,” he said. “The first one, at least. When you were trying to get me to help thwart the Apocalypse.”
“Hah!” Crowley grinned. “Yes. When we got outrageously drunk on Chateauneuf-du-Pape in the bookshop.”
“After dining at the Ritz.”
The two fell silent. Aziraphale was flooded with a dreadful blend of emotions. He desperately longed to return to days past, where things were not easy – they were never easy – but they were predictable; enjoyable. But now, standing here with Crowley on the precipice of love and annihilation, Aziraphale could not help but feel a deep regret for all those years of emotions unspoken. He would never say that his thousands of years with Crowley were wasted, for despite all the hurt he and Crowley had suffered, there was happiness and learning and laughter that he would not trade for anything. But they could have had something more. Not for the first time, Aziraphale felt a profound rage quite unbecoming of an angel towards Heaven and God, yes, but also at himself. If he had been more like Crowley and less like his craven self, maybe he would not be frantically scrounging to finally admit how ruined he was to the demon in his final minutes of existence.
Regardless of Aziraphale’s spinelessness, however, it always would have led to this – to Crowley and Aziraphale standing by humanity. It didn’t make him feel any less bitter, however.
“They deserve better than what we got, Angel. They deserve to live, despite all their wrong.”
“I know. I just wish we deserved to live, too. Together. You’ve always said God was cruel. I suspect I’ve known it for a while myself.”
“’Course you have. You’re so smart.”
Aziraphale snorted. “I think I’ve been rather stupid, actually.”
Crowley frowned and shook his head, and Aziraphale felt utterly consumed with affection, with a desperate and deep-seated need he felt like a pit in his stomach to reach for Crowley, to hold him in his arms, protect him. An impossible wish to fulfil now. The least Aziraphale could do was to tell him as much. “Oh, Crowley. I know I’ve spoken your ear off, but I need to tell you something.”
“It’s okay, Angel. I know. Heard God, didn’t I?”
Aziraphale felt cheated; how dare She take something so important as this confession away from him.
“But that’s exactly the point! You need to hear it from me! I’ve lied to your face for eons. If we only have minutes left, I want you to hear it from me. I want to finally let myself speak. I’m tired of pretending. Aren’t you?”
Crowley was silent. His gorgeous golden eyes flickered from Aziraphale, to his eyes then his lips, then down to the floor. He seemed unable to keep eye contact. Aziraphale glanced down at himself to find the demon’s hands shaking, tapping mindlessly away at his thighs. He took another step forward and held Crowley’s hands in his own.
“It’s no secret I’ve admired you since you were an Angel,” Aziraphale started. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.
“You were…you were breath-taking. So talented and lovely and…and interesting with all your questions. My, you astounded me with your courage. You never should have Fallen for the crime of simply being yourself. But since the day we met again on the Wall,” Aziraphale took a sharp breath in, his voice falling to a whisper as he made an admission to a secret kept closely guarded for centuries, “I – I was glad you had.
“Though I would never have admitted it to myself, I knew you were freer than what you ever would have been in Heaven. I’m not and have never been under the foolish impression that Hell was a…what’s that idiom? A ‘walk in the park’. I know they’ve hurt you in ways I cannot bear to imagine. But I told myself that you were safe, or well, safer up on Earth. Up with me.”
Crowley made a strange noise and squeezed Aziraphale’s hands. He seemed to have gathered up the courage to finally meet Aziraphale’s eyes properly.
“I expect that was my selfishness coming out. I have always had a great fondness for Earth, and I took pride in my work as its delegate for all those years. But my existence would not have been anywhere near as rewarding, as fun, nor as complete without you as my companion. Without you, I wouldn’t be, well, me,” Aziraphale shrugged.
“You never needed me to be yourself, Aziraphale. You’ve always been so good. That wasn’t my influence.”
“I beg to differ. I would have easily been a pawn in Heaven’s awful game if not for you. Our meetings were…well, they were everything to me. I learned so much from you. Even when there were centuries-long stretches between seeing each other, I found great comfort in knowing that you were out there, because that meant that surely, we would cross paths again. I basked in your company when our jobs permitted and craved it when you were gone.”
“Angel, Angel,” Crowley sounded breathless, “you must know, I searched for you, too. Would sniff the air just to catch the tiniest scent of you in the wind.”
Aziraphale could imagine it: Crowley, draped in lush, dark finery, fiery hair curling with the biting winds of an early Earth, finding Aziraphale by smell alone. They had always had an innate sense for each other. Aziraphale’s heart would stutter and squeeze with panic whenever he could no longer feel Crowley on the worldly plain.
“How much I yearned for you terrified me,” Aziraphale continued, voice brittle with urgency. “I wanted to be good enough, I needed Heaven to tell me I was good enough, and lusting for the enemy seemed to be anything but that.” Crowley spluttered at Aziraphale’s words, but let the angel continue.
“So, I pushed you away and scorned you, the one being in Creation who did tell me I was kind and strong and acceptable as I was. You said it so easily, like a fact. I almost believed you.”
“Never been a liar, me,” Crowley said weakly, his cheeks and forehead ruddy with a lovely pink.
Aziraphale stopped. His mind was whirring. How could one condense 6000 years into a quick conversation? He had no faith that God would allow him to say his piece.
“Goodness, there is so much to say. All those books I’ve read have gone to waste; I seemed to have lost all coherent thought. There’s so much more to it than that. If we had more time…”
They didn’t, though. Not if Crowley got his wish. And Aziraphale was going to do everything in his power to make certain that he did, despite the consequences.
“I’m sorry, Angel. Take your time anyway.”
Sweet, glorious Crowley. He knew there was little time left, yet he urged for Aziraphale to take all of it.
“What? No! Don’t be sorry. There is nothing to be sorry for!” Aziraphale’s voice pitched upwards. “Crowley, oh, my Crowley. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it all. I’m sorry for all those rejections and all that pain I must have caused over eons. You must know that every time I left for Heaven, you were always on the forefront of my mind. But I was too cowardly to leave the Host and far too cowardly to ever reach out to you. All I managed to do was cause hurt, it seems. I’m so sorry.”
Crowley opened and shut his mouth several times like a fish.
“What is it, dear?”
“Nothing. Just, I – No, nothing, keep going,” he nodded with his head gesturing to Aziraphale to continue.
“I will, my dearest, but once you say your piece. I told you before, I want to listen. You deserve your questions to be answered.”
Crowley huffed, unsure. “It’s just… You say I was in your head every time you went to Heaven.”
“Yes.”
“But that last time, when you went with the Metatron… You could have been with me. I begged you to stay. Why didn’t you? Was I not… Ngh,” Crowley winced, mouth twisting downward as he shook his head.
“Not what?” Aziraphale followed Crowley’s face. “Please, please, Crowley, ask me. I will answer anything.”
“I know you will, Angel. I…For once I don’t know if I want to hear the answer.”
Aziraphale went quiet, patiently waiting for Crowley to speak.
The demon sighed, anticipation clearly overruling any fear. He never could resist a question.
“I want to believe you when you say all of that. I do. But you asked me to come with you so you could turn me back into an angel. Why say all this and want to change me? Was it not enough to stay as we were?”
“I never asked you to come with me to Heaven so you could become an angel again, I asked you because I knew I’d be a worthless Archangel without you by my side! I never wanted to change you!”
“Angel, you’ve been saying that I was much too nice to be a demon for thousands of years. It’s okay if you did. Well,” Crowley hemmed, “Not okay. Um. Understandable. No, not… Just… – Look, I could recognise your thought process. You would prefer it if I were restored.”
Aziraphale’s face blanched with horror. What Crowley was saying… That wouldn’t do.
He sighed tiredly. He wished they had had this conversation earlier. They were racing through centuries-worth of discussions in mere minutes in their panic to have their say before God stopped them at Her leisure. His own fault, he knew.
“You’re right. I did say those things. Some I resolutely stand by – you are, at heart, really very nice, Crowley. And you cannot fake otherwise,” Aziraphale added quickly as Crowley moved to instinctually argue with him.
“But I never should have made you the offer of reinstating you. I can’t say I didn’t want to change you, I did. I… I said before I had been glad you were in Hell if it meant you were more free. But I could see you weren’t happy, not really. I just wanted to fix that. The happiest I had ever seen you was… was when you were still apart of the Host making your beautiful stars. I had never witnessed such unbound joy in my existence at that point, you know. It made quite the impression. I thought changing you back into an angel might grant you permission to do what you so clearly love again. Maybe then you would be happy, and maybe after… After, we could be happy together.”
Crowley scoffed. “Aziraphale, if you think I haven’t been happy since before Creation, then you really do make the most terrible detective.”
Aziraphale harrumphed, offended at the accusation. He saw the ghost of a smile on Crowley’s face at successfully eliciting a reaction out of him.
“I s’pose you’re not wrong – I’m not always happy,” Crowley said as his thumbs swiped at the soft skin of Aziraphale’s manicured hands. “But that’s not because I’m not an angel or whatever. Hell is shit, and humans can be shit, and God is shit, and you’ve been dangled in front of me like Eve’s bloody apple for centuries. But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of feeling happy. People can be awful, but they made up for it. You could be…not awful, but – But you could hurt.”
Aziraphale took a sharp inhale. How long had he caused pain for Crowley? It didn’t bear thinking about.
“But, I was willing to go through that hurt for you,” Crowley continued, calling Aziraphale out of his self-pity-ridden stupor. “Because at least I had you. Not like how I wanted, yeah, but…” he sniffed, quiet for a moment. “I had food, clothes, drink, conversation. I had utterly ‘coincidental’ bump-ins with you. I had my plants, my Bentley. Falling wasn’t easy – “
“An understatement, I’m sure.”
Crowley snorted. “Yes, Angel. But I’ve been damn content enough since I first laid eyes on you on that Wall. And those few years after Armageddon – I’d never been happier up until you left to be Heaven’s Supreme Archangel.”
Silence. The only sound Aziraphale could hear was Crowley and his own heavy breathing. Neither of them needed to breathe in the strict sense, but he found there was a great comfort in the rhythmic mundanity of it.
“I was happy, too,” Aziraphale echoed. “But still so afraid. You said that we had yet to see ‘the big one’ after the Apocalypse – the first one, that is – and I spent every hour following being terrified Heaven would realise our lie and rain fire down on you and the humans. Our existence together felt fragile and temporary, and I knew I was wasting every precious year being afraid, but I could not stop myself. When the Metatron offered me the title of Supreme Archangel, I thought it an opportunity. I hoped, rather foolishly, to make it all better. You showed me the system was corrupt; I thought that changing it would mean that we could have a future together for as long as we pleased. With the humans. Now look where it’s gotten us.”
“You were trying to do the right thing.”
“Yes.”
“I… I can see it now. Misplaced goodness.”
“It’s very on brand, I know.”
“You’re brave for trying, Angel. You weren’t being foolish, you were trying to be good,” Crowley removed a hand from Aziraphale’s to wipe at the angel’s cheeks. Aziraphale touched his eye; he hadn’t even realised he had started crying again.
“I’m not very good at being good,” he said.
“Oh hush,” Crowley grumbled, dismissing Aziraphale’s self-deprecation with a wave of his thin arm. “You’re the best at it. It can irritate me to no end how selfless you can be. Never thinking about yourself, only of mine and the humans’ happiness.”
Aziraphale blinked; Crowley’s idea of him was bafflingly different to Aziraphale’s understanding of himself. The demon was much too generous in his characterisation of him.
“I forgive you, Aziraphale. And I need you to know that I’m sorry for being selfish and asking you to go against your nature, to what? Run off together? Stupid really,” Crowley sneered at himself.
“It’s alright, Crowley. We both wanted the same thing, really. A future.”
“Just went about it in astonishingly awful ways.” Crowley took his hands back from Aziraphale to press his palms into his eyes. Aziraphale felt completely unmoored at the lack of contact.
“Fuck! We were so close,” Crowley yelled to the ceiling, to God, as was his habit when he was frustrated. It was perhaps the only time that God was most likely to bother listening.
Aziraphale felt a lump form in his throat. A third rush of hot tears began to swell up in the corner of his eyes. He clenched his fists, breath shaking as he tried to hold it together. What use was there in holding it together? There was no one to hide from anymore. Heaven didn’t exist and frankly, he didn’t give a toss what God thought any longer.
“It’s not…Argh!” he screamed, grabbing at his hair. “It’s not fucking fair!”
“Angel!” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up past his outline as he became temporarily distracted from his fury by Aziraphale’s uncharacteristic outburst.
“All those years… I never really thought ‘us’ could happen. It felt like the futile wish of a foolish being. I knew you cared, but to know you felt the same way, it’s, it’s…” Aziraphale’s eyes flickered back and forth as he searched for the right word.
“Devastating,” Crowley finished, gently prying Aziraphale’s fingers from his white curls. His pretty eyes were also ruined by tears.
“Yes. Devastating,” Aziraphale sighed, shoulders slumping with the weight of ages worth of adoration smothered down like a dirty secret. “It feels as if we were set up for failure no matter how we tried. If we tried. But we’ll never know because of Heaven and Hell, my spinelessness. God. Now it’s too late.”
“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, so frightfully gentle, “I know, I know. But it’s not too late. Not just yet. We’ve got a bit of time left. I’m tired of waiting, yeah? Let’s use it,” Crowley knocked his forehead against Aziraphale’s own.
The angel wriggled his hands out of Crowley’s hold to take him softly by the face. He was so delicate, Crowley, yet despite this Aziraphale yearned to grasp him with all his might as a poor man might clutch onto treasure. But Crowley was not treasure. No, he was far more; completely invaluable, entirely precious by standards humans could never have comprehended. How could one describe the depths of a devotion that extended beyond the existence of Creation?
“I don’t think there’s enough words in all of the humans’ languages that could condense up my feelings towards you, Crowley. ‘I love you’ doesn’t seem to cut it,”
Aziraphale felt Crowley's breath hitch, but soldiered on.
“It feels nowhere near as vast and consuming enough. It’s so very human. Which I suppose is rather fitting, seeing as how I fell so deeply in love with you whilst we walked amongst them, so it will have to do for now. I love you, Crowley. Not the angel before, never that. I love you. Every demonic ounce of you, I am utterly devoted to. I love you like how the tree loves the brightness of the sun, or how the moon loves the stars. I love you more than how I ever loved God. You made me complete; I am nothing if you are not there.”
“God – Satan – Fuck,” Crowley’s eyes were wide and crazed and so full of optimism, “Aziraphale. I love you, too. Always have. Ever since those first rains. I looked into those stupid blue gorgeous eyes and knew I would be ruined for eternity. Living hundreds of lives was worth it to have lived them next to you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes flickered down to Crowley’s lips. Crowley’s eyes did the same.
“I’m sorry I never said anything sooner,” Aziraphale whispered.
“Don’t be. We couldn’t have. No matter how much I despised you saying it, it was always too dangerous. I would never have risked your safety like that.”
“I suppose. But I wish I had said it regardless. Been brave, like how you were before I left.”
“I wasn’t brave. I was desperate, then. It was cruel of me to have said those things, and kissed you, and left.”
“I carried the kiss with me to Heaven.”
“Cheesy, Angel.”
“It’s true, I did. I thought about it every waking hour. Which is to say, all hours,” Aziraphale admitted. Crowley’s touch had been torture. It was everything. The memory of his desperate plea had been Aziraphale’s guiding light in Heaven; that was why he had returned, so that he could carve a future out for the both of them where they would have been free to kiss as much as they pleased. Such a future seemed utopic. It would never exist, however.
“Oh.”
Aziraphale was a very tactile angel. He loved the tastes and smells of food and drink crafted by human hands, loved the cozy sensation of clothing well worn-in, or the smooth feel of paper as he opened a good book. But there was a sensation he had been deprived of for his entire existence; the touch of flesh upon flesh. Another unspeakable desire Aziraphale had been wholeheartedly ashamed of. It was unbefitting of an angel to yearn for something so below him, so carnal. He was starved of it. “I had always looked at humans and wondered what it would be like to share such wonderful intimacy. It was blasphemous.”
“What are you saying, Angel?”
Aziraphale panted like a dog. “Do it again, Crowley. Please, do it again.”
Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s wrists, still planted on his cheeks. Though their corporations had never aged, being immortal beings and such, Crowley looked younger. Softer. He wasn’t frowning anymore.
“I… I don’t know if I’ll do it properly. I’ve never kissed anyone else. Not like this.”
“It’ll be perfect, Crowley. I have nothing to compare it to. And even if I did, it would be made no less perfect because it’s you whom I am kissing.”
Crowley nodded and inched his face closer impossibly slowly. Aziraphale could feel bursts of hot air on his nose and mouth as Crowley took quick, anxious breaths. He seemed unable to move forward, frozen when he was just millimetres from the finish line.
Aziraphale closed the gap, pressing his lips firmly against the demon’s. It was a chaste thing, a simple press of the lips with Aziraphale pulling back after a few seconds. He was unsure of the etiquette.
But Crowley had received permission from Aziraphale to kiss him, and he seemed loath to waste it. He followed Aziraphale’s retreating head, his mouth warm and soft on Aziraphale’s own.
Aziraphale dared to part his lips as he dropped his hands to grab at Crowley’s waist, pulling his lithe body flush against the roundness of Aziraphale’s belly. Crowley whined, adjusting Aziraphale’s face to a slight angle so that he may better take his top lip between his own. They kissed each other with the hunger of men starved, an unsatiated need that had burdened them for millennia. It was sloppy and messy and everything that Aziraphale had ever dared to dream of.
Crowley’s shoulders were hiked up to his ears, but he breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly broke the contact. Aziraphale made a sound of disapproval – he had never liked having a meal interrupted, and he expected this to be much the same – but let the demon appraise him.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Aziraphale responded awkwardly, suddenly shy. How was one supposed to act when they had finally received all they had ever wanted?
The leaves of the tree beside them whistled as a faint wind blew. Aziraphale and Crowley looked up, the moment broken.
“I expect we don’t have much time left.”
“No. No, probably not.”
“We are in agreement, then? The humans will be restored.” Aziraphale left the second part unspoken. He could not bear to say it aloud.
“Yeah. Yes. We didn’t go through all that shite averting the Apocalypse for them to just… disappear.”
“Well, strictly speaking, we didn’t really avert anything, did we? All Adam,” Aziraphale smiled, grasping onto Crowley’s hands like a lifeline. He felt sick with anticipation. God’s hand hovered heavy above them.
“No no no,” Crowley shook his head, pulling a hand free to wag a finger at Aziraphale. He quickly returned it to the angel’s hold. “If we hadn’t lost the Antichrist, Adam would have grown up with us as role models. God forbid what would have happened then.”
“Yes, probably for the…best,” Aziraphale’s breath hitched as he stared blankly at Crowley’s blazer. Crowley was right; who knows what would have happened if Adam had not been – what had he called it? – human incarnate. “Crowley, I’ve just had a thought.”
The wind was picking up speed and Aziraphale felt the tails of his coat rustle behind him. He shivered, though whether it was from the sudden chill or fear, he didn’t know.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Crowley said, bending his neck at an awkward angle to better meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “Are you alright? I’ll change my mind if you need – “
“No, no, not that, you dear thing. I’m fine – well, as fine as I can be, all things considering – “
“Angel, I love you more than every star in the sky, but you’re killing me here.”
Aziraphale’s face softened at Crowley’s words, and he found himself almost getting distracted again. He took a step back from Crowley; he needed some space if he were to concentrate. Crowley pouted like a child, and flexed his long fingers.
“You are so selfless, Crowley. You just want the best for humans, as do I. We both know that the human mind is more capable than Heaven or Hell ever gave them credit for. It feels like the right thing, reassembling them to put them back on Earth.”
“’Cause it is the right thing, Angel,” Crowley frowned. “What are you getting at?”
“Nothing bad. Well, I think nothing bad. It’s just…we’re always making decisions for humanity, aren’t we? ‘We’ as in Heaven, Hell; celestial beings. When they’ve made it perfectly clear to you and I that they can make their own.”
“And override Heaven n’ Hell completely. You know, Hell told me to tempt the humans into breaking into the mansions of the bourgeoisie in the 1790s; France had chopped off thousands of heads with their guillotine by then. All them,” Crowley said with a faint air of pride.
“And Adam’s charming young friends went head-to-head with the Horsemen during the Apocalypse.”
Crowley’s golden eyes blazed with a new fervour that Aziraphale had been deprived of seeing for several years now.
“Have you got an idea, Angel?”
“I think I rather do.”
Crowley gripped Aziraphale by the upper arms and pulled the Angel in, pressing a hard kiss to his lips.
“You’re brilliant, you know that? What’ve you got?”
“We demand a – “ Aziraphale begin, but a blink later and he and Crowley were in a much emptier bookshop in front of two of the individuals he wanted to avoid most at that particular point in time.
“Time’s up!” God clapped, her teeth impossibly white as she grinned. Satan huffed a laugh at her side. “What’ve you decided, Crowley?”
Crowley opened and clothed his mouth, passing panicked glasses towards Aziraphale.
“Ugh…We’ve decided,” he said, interlacing his fingers with Aziraphale’s own, “Nnn, yes, we decided – “ His eyes were wide and fearful. Aziraphale looked at him intently, pursing his lips.
Trust me, he thought.
Crowley’s eyebrows twitched upwards in recognition of Aziraphale’s expression. The purse of his lips as he nodded slightly downwards told Aziraphale all he needed to know.
I do.
“Well?” God prompted.
Aziraphale took a step towards Her. His instincts told him to drop to his knees and beg in the face of Divinity in its most unadulterated form. He remained standing tall.
“We – Crowley and I – request the presence of a human delegate.”
God raised a dark eyebrow, sharing a glance with Satan beside her. He shrugged amusedly.
“Oh?” she said. “And why may that be?”
Crowley nodded emphatically, sparing Aziraphale a quick glance of approval. Aziraphale had had no doubt that Crowley would fail to understand him.
“You of all people should know. ‘He will judge the world with justice by the man He has appointed’. Blergh,” he stuck his tongue out and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in disgust as the Written Word left his mouth.
“Quoting Paul to me, Crowley? My, my, that isn’t like you. What makes you think the words of a bandwagoner have any truth to them? You know as well as I that I had no hand in the Bible.”
“You get my point,” he snarled.
God hummed. “Yes, I do. You want my son.”
“Yes! Yes, we want Jesus. His Second Coming, wasn’t that what you wanted? That’s where all this mess came from, after all,” Aziraphale clasped his hands together, hopeful. Despite it all, he could not shun his shameful blind faith in Her.
“Oh, I didn’t want anything. But I’ll hear you out,” She said, and with a snap of her fingers, the timid figure of Jeshua stood between a bewildered Aziraphale and Crowley.