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Well.
They hadn't expected this.
And God certainly didn't, given all their talk about costs and good-byes.
As they came apart and fluttered about into the nothingness left of the universe, something caught them, swept them up. Something swirled.
Something sparked.
…
They were so sad.
They were happy, but they were alone.
There was relief and gladness, but not for themself.
They felt intense disappointment. Frustration and longing.
They pulled themself inward, an attempt to seek solace.
But they couldn't, not completely.
There was...a line? - a river? - a tether? ...something pulling them toward something else.
They tried again.
No, the tether pulled, come this way.
There was hope. There was yearning. There was love.
…
2.2 BILLION YEARS LATER
Their first thought was, “Huh, didn't expect to still be thinking thoughts.”
Followed by, “Is it still a thought, if we don't have brains to think them?”
They shook their head – “Oh that was weird.” – They didn't have a head.
Come to think of it – still thinking, still weird – they didn't have a body either. They could feel things, but not in the way they were used to. A bit like when they were convinced – or did they do the convincing? – to go swimming in Bahr al-Mayyit and they floated on their backs together watching the clouds roll in, cradled by the warm, salty buoyancy.
“Gosh! That was such a peaceful afternoon we spent.”
“It was, wasn't it.”
A warmth spread through them and there was silence for a moment.
Then, softly, “Crowley...Crowley, is that you?”
“Aziraphale?”
“Crowley! You're here!” Another pulse of warmth. “What on Earth – er or wherever we are – is going on? We were supposed to be erased from existence!”
“I thought we were! Don't get mad at me, Angel, whatever this is isn't my fault!”
“I'm not mad at you, I'm just - ! Where are you anyway?”
“What do you mean where am I? I'm right here.”
“I can't...I can't see you, or feel you. We were holding hands, weren't we? I – I don't think I would have let go.”
“I don't think we have hands anymore, Angel.”
The silence began again. They tried moving. Constricting, expanding, orbiting.
“Orbiting??”
Everything felt heavier for a moment.
“Angel, can you feel this?”
A rush of warmth again, hotter than before, but so, so gentle.
“Oh, Crowley.” A pulse.
“Shut up! ...I'll take that as a yes then.”
“What does it mean?”
“I'm not sure...let me think for a moment.”
“Of course, my dear.”
Another pulse.
“Ngk.”
…
1.7 BILLION YEARS LATER
“Let me try something.”
A tug on the tether, the river, the line.
“Do you feel that, Angel?”
“Well that is an unusual sensation. Yes, I feel that.”
“Can you follow it? Can you come closer?”
“I'm not sure I'll be able to tell if I'm closer. It all feels like a part of me.”
“It all feels like a part of me too.”
“...It feels so...vast. Spread out, but still...complete...Crowley, are we-”
“I think we might be nebulae.”
“Nebulae? We're stars?”
“Not solely...maybe galaxies? I can't be sure.”
“Oh, how beautiful! And it's both of us, together.”
There is a fluttering pulse this time, they recognize it as almost a wistful sigh.
“Crowley, I do think, since we apparently still exist, and we seem to have the time...finally, that we should talk. About us.”
Pulsing. Swirling. Flickering.
Fierceness.
“There will be an 'us', Angel. I don't know how this has happened, but I get the feeling that God isn't aware of us anymore. That we did this. That our- our want for – ngk – for each other. Our connection willed us into continued existence. And I will not waste anymore time not loving you, Angel!”
Red. Warmth. Another tug on the tether.
“Oh, my dear, yes. No more wasted time.”
Hot. Pinks and yellows. A shimmer.
“Now, just follow this tether you say?”
A pull. A collision. Dust.
“Yes, that's it, Angel! Keep going. I'm coming to get you.”
…
3.1 BILLION YEAR LATER
“Crowley?”
“Hmm?”
“...What is it, Angel?”
“...I really am so sorry -”
“I've already said I forgive you.”
“I know, but let me say this. No Heaven or Hell to worry about. No Earth to save. We have the time now. ”
“There's really no -”
“I need you to hear this, Crowley.”
Another pulse. Another tug.
“I'm sorry that I hurt you when I left. I won't apologize for going, because even now, I still think it was the right decision. But I really thought you'd go with me. It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't...It should have, but I was so swept up in the ideas and the changes we could make and – and the fear from Metatron's threats that I didn't see that you-”
“Threats?? You never-”
“And I'm sorry that I only came back when I needed something from you and not just because I wanted to see you. Though I never would have left in the first place then, because I missed you constantly. And we really could have used your perspective up there you know. Maybe then- But that doesn't matter now.”
A swirl of blue and purple. Remnants trailing off into the ether.
“And Mrs. Sandwich was right, I have been a taker.”
“What's Mrs. Sandwich got- ?”
“No, I have been! And while I didn't truly recognize our feelings for what they were, in the human sense at least, until 1941 -”
“1941!?”
“- somewhere I knew you'd do anything for me and I know I've taken advantage -”
“What?”
“- of that at times. And I'm sorry for that -”
“Angel, no. Stop, stop, stop.”
“I -”
A pulse. A tug. Another collision.
“You've taken advantage of nothing, Angel. Do you think I'm dim? That I wasn't aware you had me wrapped around your little finger for millennia?”
A flash of warmth and pink.
“We've both asked and cajoled and pushed and helped each other.”
“But, Crowley -”
“Nope! I won't hear any more on it. I – I appreciate you saying that first bit, because it did – it did hurt. I finally – we finally could have – and then you -”
“My dear, I -”
Another collision. A shimmer. More dust trailing off.
“Like you said, the rest doesn't matter anymore. We're here, the both of us. With no more...outside influences. We're finally able to be just us. I know you, I know who you are, and I – and I love who you are.”
More pink. Warmth. Hot.
“And you know me and you still – we still -”
“I do love you, Crowley. Exactly as you are.”
Red. Yet another collision. And another.
Silence. More collisions.
“Crowley? Crowley, wha-”
“Something's happening -”
“It does seem to be getting rather hot.”
“I think – Oh, nonononono. Shit. Shit! Hold tight, Angel! Hold tight and pull for all you're worth!”
…
2.3 BILLION YEARS LATER
“Oh look at it! Isn't it beautiful.”
“Not quite how I remember it looking the first go around...”
“Well it's a different...recipe, I suppose you could say, isn't it? We have to let it...er...let it cook on it's own.”
“True, and we were a bit busy last time – Oh, do you think dinosaurs are real this time?! I loved those guys! I couldn't believe it when God said it was just for a laugh.”
“I don't know that we'd be able to see from here, but, if I recall, we have got a while yet until they make an appearance. Perhaps if we got a bit closer...”
“Well come on, Angel!”
A squeeze. Another tug. A bright white light.
“Oh, that's new!”
“Crowley?”
“Angel?”
“Angel!?”
…
4.5 BILLION YEARS LATER
Anthony groaned and rolled over, stretching in his too large bed.
What an unusual dream, he thought. Though he did have a certain fondness for the Antennae Galaxies, thinking back to the picture that went around the internet back when he had just started working on his book. The two colliding galaxies formed a heart. It was around Valentine's Day and he remembered wishing he had someone to send it to other than mildly amused colleagues.
It was a Sunday. Anthony glanced at his phone on the nightstand. Not quite afternoon, but still too late in the day to be lazing about in bed.
Something felt off. Maybe it was the dream, that he was a drifting galaxy. Or maybe it was that he was drifting with someone. Someone important, someone special.
Well, whatever it was, it was making his flat – minimalist and utilitarian – feel like a cold, gaping maw. Surrounding him with emptiness.
“Right,” he said to the maw as he stood from his bed. “Time to get out of the house for a bit.”
He didn't usually dress in all black, but it was what called to him that day. As he checked the mirror before he left, he had the strange sensation that his ginger hair was too light and his sunglasses too square.
He shook it off, he didn't mind the grey coming in, distinguished, his younger colleagues had joked, and he'd always had square glasses.
His right leg seemed to be stiff as well. He must have slept wrong.
Definitely in need of a walk, he swaggered slightly on his sore leg and decided maybe he'd finally visit that bookshop he was always passing on his way home.
…
Asa Fell tripped over the rug in the hall just outside his room over the bookshop.
“Oh bugger,” he muttered to himself, as he sloshed hot cocoa onto his second favorite sweater vest.
Ah well, he thought, it's a good thing the bookshop opens late on Sundays.
He went back into his room and changed into the last clean vest he had. A slightly ragged beige button up number he didn't remember buying and was half convinced had come with the wardrobe when he'd moved in. Not nearly as cozy as he prefers, but he'd been putting off his laundry a bit too long.
Ah well, he thought again.
He picked up the remnants of his now lukewarm cocoa and went to wake Derek.
As he went through their routine of - bathroom, teeth, hair, trousers, help with the belt, shirt, sweater, shoes, help with the laces – the lovely dream Asa had the night before came back to him.
He didn't know much about astronomy, but he thinks maybe they were nebulas. It was a wonderful feeling, like a missing piece of him had finally slotted into place. He wasn't alone – not that he was ever alone with Derek about – but alone alone. No, he'd felt complete.
And when he'd woken, that feeling was gone and he was left with just his small crowded room above Derek's bookshop, and a deep longing.
…
He'd been sorting a new donation of second hand books and chatting idly with Derek for the better part of an hour when the bell over the door announced the arrival of a customer.
Asa looked up to see a tall lanky man in all black with fluffy greying ginger hair and light brown eyes behind square glasses.
“Uh, excuse me?” the man said.
Home. Asa's heart said, and he took a few rushed steps forward unconsciously.
The man smiled at him and Asa immediately felt flustered, attracted, and embarrassed.
He took a step back and pulled on his customer service smile.
“Yes, can I help you?” Asa replied.
After a few minutes, which involved Asa finding out that the man was an astrophysicist and a writer, promptly making a fool of himself, and then finding slight redemption in the man's excitement at the Eddington book, the man left again.
He seemed just a bit hesitant to go, but Asa was sure he was imagining things. The bell above the door tinkled cheerfully and Asa felt immediately bereft.
“So, that was Professor Anthony Crowley,” Derek said.
Asa felt like he'd been struck.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“Hmm? Well, his name is in big letters on the book you're holding.”
Asa stared, first at Derek, then at the book in his hands.
Crowley.
“Well, aren't you going to go after him?”
“Wh-why would I possibly go after him?” Asa's voice was strained, higher than usual, not quite his own.
“Well you liked him,” Derek said matter-of-factly. “And it looked very much like he liked you.”
Once again, Asa was moving before he was fully aware of it. Gripping the book, running faster than he had – possibly ever. Certainly faster than the last time he can recall, when Michael and Uriel came to accost him about the Anti-Christ's whereabouts.
“Oi!” he shouted, barreling forward in spite of not being sure who Uriel was, or the Anti-Christ, “I mean, excuse me, stop!”
Anthony had already sauntered down to the end of the street, but turned fluidly at the commotion.
“Oh, sorry, did I -”
BAM!
They collided.
A squeeze. A tug. A bright white light.
…
A FEW MOMENTS LATER
Two men were sprawled on the asphalt. There was a book nearby and, thankfully, no traffic on the road.
“Oh I'm so sorry,” one said, beginning to disentangle his limbs from the other man. “It's been so long since I -”
He cuts himself off as the other man attempts to pull himself up, giggling uncontrollably.
“Angel,” he wheezes, interrupting himself with another laugh. “I think that may have been the first time I have ever seen you run.”
Aziraphale crosses his arms, still seated on the pavement, and with playful grumpiness, replies, “Well pardon me for being excited to see you in corporeal form after thinking we'd been erased from existence!”
Crowley choked on the rest of his laughter before shuffling forward to sit even with Aziraphale and pulling him into a crushing hug.
After a few moments, Aziraphale pulled back just enough to see Crowley's watery eyes. Crowley sniffled and Aziraphale's hands came up to cradle his cheeks.
“I love you,” Aziraphale said. “You're right, Crowley, no more wasted time.”
Crowley let out a shaky breath and rested their foreheads together. “I love you too, Angel.”
Aziraphale stroked Crowley's cheek and tilted his head just so –
“Asa!” Came a shout from behind them, startling them apart, though Crowley's grip on Aziraphale's vest tightened. “My stars, Asa, are you alright?”
Aziraphale turned to look and saw Derek making his way down the front steps of the bookshop.
“Who's Asa?” He heard Crowley say softly next to him.
“We're alright, Derek!” Aziraphale called back. “No need to come over, we'll be there in two ticks.”
Derek waved his hand in acknowledgement and turned to go back inside. “Let the young ones have their meet-cute,” he said to himself with a smile.
“Who's Derek?” Crowley asked, sounding a bit more like his usual self. Standing and pulling Aziraphale up with him. “And why does your bookshop look so...cheery?”
“It's not my bookshop,” Aziraphale responded as they began to walk back up the street. “It's Derek's. I – er – that is Asa, moved into the room above the shop – the same one Gabriel stayed in. Anyway, Asa moved in to help with the shop after Derek had a stroke a few years ago.”
Crowley stopped short just before the pavement to stare at Aziraphale incredulously. “How on Earth do you know all that?”
Aziraphale reached out and tugged Crowley's hand to get him out of the street.
“I'm not sure,” he replied. “Don't you have any memories of being Professor Anthony Crowley?”
“Huh,” Crowley thought for a moment. There were long days researching and writing his book. Then the disappointment at the lackluster sales. Drunken nights watching sci-fi and outer space movies in his flat, yelling at the screen when they got the details wrong. Going further back, there was the fight with his parents when he'd been 17 and they'd kicked him out after they caught him with another boy in his room.
“Huh,” Crowley said again. “I suppose I do. That's not going to be confusing at all,” he said sarcastically. “But at least the memories, and poorly remembered history lessons, seem to confirm that God kept their word. No Heaven or Hell, just humans.”
Aziraphale squeezed the hand he was still holding. “And somehow we still found each other,” he said tenderly.
“Or we were going to find each other,” Crowley jumps back in. “Or rather Asa and Anthony found each other. But now we're here - I suppose I feel a bit bad about that, but I can't find it in myself to feel too bad about it. And how are we even here??” Crowley huffed. “This is all a bit complicated isn't it.”
Aziraphale pulled Crowley close by the hand he still held.
“I don't know how we came to be here. I don't know if we're human, or demon and angel, or something else. And to be completely honest,” Aziraphale took Crowley's other hand and put them both on his shoulders, “right now,” he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley's back, “I don't care.”
Crowley inhaled a quivering breath as Aziraphale leaned forward painfully slowly.
“Oh! Professor Crowley, Mr. Fell, I didn't realize you two...knew each other,” said a voice far too close to them.
Crowley growled in the back of his throat, “Not now, Muriel!”
“Muriel?!” Aziraphale said, once again turning away mere millimeters from Crowley's face.
Aziraphale smoothed his hands down Crowley's back before taking a step away, only slightly impeded by Crowley's reluctant grip.
“Hello, Muriel!” Aziraphale said kindly.
They grinned and waved, bouncing on their toes and then taking a step back at the look on Crowley's face.
“Hello Mr. Fell! I was just on my way to the pub to meet up with Eric and Adam.” They leaned forward conspiratorially, “Adam is supposed to be introducing us to his new beau! You know Joshua, from the coffee shop? You should come join us!”
“Joshua? As in -” Crowley begins.
“Well, that's lovely, thank you for the invitation,” Aziraphale interrupts. “We might come by to join you later, but the Professor and I have some business to finish first.”
“Oh, did I interrupt? I'm sorry!” They looked down at their feet for a moment. “Yes, of course, later. And if not, then I'll see you at book club on Tuesday!”
“Definitely, Tuesday,” Aziraphale agrees, even though Crowley has already started dragging him up the bookshop steps.
Muriel waves again before heading off across the street towards The Dirty Donkey.
“Really, Crowley! There's really no need to be -” Aziraphale started, and then stopped himself as he caught Crowley's eye.
Wide eyed, with shrunken pupils, breathing just a bit too fast.
“Ah, right,” Aziraphale said. Then he was the one pulling Crowley along.
Into the bookshop, flipping the sign to closed, past Derek back in his usual chair - “We're closing for lunch Derek. The leftover Pad Thai from last night is in the refrigerator.” - and up the back stairs to his – Asa's – his room.
Aziraphale closed the door softly behind them and turned back to Crowley and finally, finally, they were alone.
He watched as Crowley took a few deep breaths, pacing as far as he could in the familiar, yet unfamiliar space.
“We're here, my dear. And we're together. As you said, no Heaven, no Hell. Just us.”
“We were galaxies,” Crowley said, breathlessly.
Aziraphale pulled him to sit on Asa's bed with him.
“Yes, I suppose we were,” Aziraphale agreed gently.
“And Muriel, they're one of my students. So are Adam and Eric.” Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale. “Eric was a demon!”
“Yes,” Aziraphale says again. “It is fascinating how they all turned out. I believe Michael is the barkeep at The Dirty Donkey in this universe.”
“Michael? But – It's all – It's them, but it's not them,” Crowley looked away again and leaned forward, pulling at his hair.
Aziraphale ran his hand slowly up and down over Crowley's back.
“Angel, do you remember Job?” Crowley asked, not looking up.
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, understanding now.
“What did we do? Did we make the wrong decision? Did I make the wrong decision? Did I kill everyone?”
He shot to his feet and kept his back to Aziraphale, looking out the window onto the street below.
“I – I don't know if we made the right decision or not. It was – there was no one right answer. And Michael erased everyone and everything when she destroyed the Book of Life, not you, Crowley, not us.”
Crowley turned back to him, “But we could have -”
Aziraphale stood and took two steps right into Crowley's space, their vest buttons catching against each other slightly.
“We did as we've always done, my dear. We did the best we could, for humanity, with the information we had at the time.”
Aziraphale reached up and slipped his hands under Crowley's vest, resting them against his sides.
“And, as far as I can tell from Asa's memories, those we knew do all seem to be happy here. At peace in ways they weren't before.”
Aziraphale's thumbs stroked idly across Crowley's ribs, making him shiver.
“But -” Crowley began, but Aziraphale shushed him with a glance.
“Crowley, my dear. I will gladly discuss this with you over several bottles of wine down at the pub, or here in my room, or at your flat – anywhere you'd like – until we're both white haired and creaky, if that's what's going to happen. But right now,” Aziraphale leaned even closer and looked up at Crowley through his lashes. “I would very much like to find out what it feels like to kiss you properly.”
Crowley stared open-mouthed for a moment before swallowing and letting out a hoarse, “Yes, please.”
Aziraphale's answering smile was brighter than the white flash that had brought them there. He brought his hands up once more to cradle Crowley's face, thumb caressing over the tattoo at his ear.
“I love you, Crowley. More than anything in this universe or the last. You are everything to me and I will spend every moment we have making sure you feel it.”
Then Aziraphale leaned in, and slightly up, and pressed their lips together. Gently, so gently.
Crowley whimpered and brought his arms around his Angel, gripping the back of his vest, not pressing him closer, but keeping him in place.
Aziraphale lowered his heels back to the ground, just barely breaking the kiss, both of them with shining eyes and tiny smiles.
“I love you, Angel,” Crowley said, bringing his own hand up to hold one of Aziraphale's to his cheek. “Whatever this universe has in store for us, I don't need anything more than this. I have you. I have everything I ever wanted.”
Aziraphale let out a tiny sob and surged up to kiss Crowley fully. Hands in his hair, tongue brushing against his lower lip asking for entry. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but he had read things, and if the way Crowley had fluttered his hands and groaned before engulfing him in his arms was any indication, he wasn't doing too badly.
…
EPILOGUE
...
LATER AT THE PUB
“Professor Crowley, Mr. Fell, you came!” Muriel called, spotting them before the pub door had even had a chance to close.
Crowley saluted them casually with two fingers before pointing towards the bar. Drinks first.
They nodded and turned back to Eric.
“Hello, Asa,” Michael greeted coldly. “You managed to get out of hosting the Shopkeepers' Association meeting again this month.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale hedged, glancing at Crowley, who looked deeply amused and wholly unhelpful. “Well, I-”
“Anthony Crowley,” Crowley schmoozed with a grin, holding his hand out to Michael, who took it distractedly, eyes flicking between the two men. “Head of Astrophysics at King's College. We'll take a bottle of the...” He glances at the wine list. “Château Lafite 1982.”
“Not your usual Fuzzy Navel tonight, Asa?” Dagon asked as they approached.
Crowley snorted, “Really, Angel?” as his calculating eyes took his former 'colleague'.
Aziraphale glared at him sideways before answering, “Special occasion.”
She too glanced between the two men, taking in their closeness and the fresh mark on Crowley's neck. Her eyebrow raised, “Indeed, it seems to be.”
Michael returned with the bottle and two glasses. “Next month,” she leaned over the counter to stare at Aziraphale.
He cleared his throat as he reached over to pry the drink and glasses out of her hands, “Yes, well, I'll have to consult with our events schedule. And Derek.”
She pulled back. “He's doing well? I saw him out today while the two of you were acting like fools in the middle of the road earlier.”
Aziraphale smiled genuinely at the concern, “Yes, the new speech therapist has been working wonders. He's still struggling with walking too far and his dexterity with fiddly bits, but we're still seeing improvements. Thank you for asking.”
“I'm glad to hear that too,” Jesus – er – Joshua said, popping up next to them as he came to pick up one of the pints Dagon had just placed on the bar. “I miss our morning talks. He didn't always have the best advice, but he was always the first customer of the day, in for his oat milk latte 'with a hefty jigger of almond syrup.' as he liked to say.” Joshua chuckled.
“Now that exams are finished,” Adam came up from behind him to take the second pint, “We'll finally have the time to visit. Summer book club starts up on Tuesday, right?”
“Oh, good!” Muriel said from their seat. “I was hoping you would join us again.”
The whole group turned from the bar and gathered around two of the tiny tables. They talked for a while, about how they felt about their exams, and thanked Crowley for the extra office hours he'd held, but before long Crowley was reaching out to snake his hand around Aziraphale's waist, getting his attention and gesturing with his head toward a more secluded table in the back next to a credenza and an old painting of a bearded, kindly looking man.
“Oh of course, my dear,” Aziraphale said fondly. To the group at large, he said, “If you'll excuse us.”
The young humans let them go with out to much trouble, discussing something about a game night at Muriel's flat. They had all the best games.
Except for Adam.
He excused himself as well and, after Crowley made a quick stop to pick up another bottle of Château Lafite from Dagon, followed them to their table at the back.
“What is it, kid?” Crowley said, tired and ready to spend time with just his Angel and no one else.
“Sorry, Professor,” Adam said, glancing between the two of them reluctantly. “I just wanted to say, I know it's been a long time, but I'm glad you two have been able to work things out.”
Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other in bewilderment.
“Whatever do you mean, Adam?” Aziraphale asked cautiously.
He hesitated again. “I don't think I'm supposed to remember... who I am, or was. Or who the two of you were, and are again apparently, but I do.”
“You what?” Crowley blurted.
“I remember being the Anti-Christ,” he said, lowering his tone. “And I remember the two of you, helping me. Aziraphale and Crowley. And your wings, and that ridiculous old-timey car crank. And my dad, my real dad.”
“How's that possible?” Aziraphale asked. “And how do you know it's us, if you already knew Anthony and Asa?”
“I don't know,” Adam said, “But I remember everything disappearing, and I remember thinking about the two of you, and I knew that you would be doing something to help us.”
Crowley looked down at his glass and Aziraphale reached across the table to take his hand.
“So I tried to, I don't know, send you good vibes sort of,” Adam continued, and the two looked back at him again. “And then the next thing I knew I was a baby again. I really wish I didn't remember being born, by the way.”
Crowley grimaced sympathetically. But Aziraphale was listening with rapt attention, his grip tightening on Crowley's hand.
“But it is nice to know we have absolute free will, no more world ending interference. I haven't been able to feel God or 'real dad', or any...uh occult presence, until you two showed up.” He stood from his seat. “Anyway, I'll let you two talk,” he said, patting both of their shoulders casually and going back to his friends as if he hadn't just dropped a revelation into their laps.
Aziraphale and Crowley just stared after him for a beat, then stared at each other.
“Do you think that's why we're here?” Aziraphale asked. “Adam willed us to be?”
“Eh, I didn't think he had that much power left after the whole 'you're not my dad' display,” Crowley replied.
“Maybe...” Aziraphale hesitated and Crowley leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“What is it, Angel?”
“Maybe, Adam's 'good vibes' gave us just enough free-from-God will power, combined with our – our desire to be together...”
Crowley winked at him and Aziraphale felt himself flush, eyeing the mark on his neck he had put there earlier.
“What I'm trying to say is, maybe that was the extra oomph we needed, and maybe that's how we were able to do it.”
They didn't say much for a while after that, ordering a third bottle of wine and realizing their tolerance for alcohol was not nearly as high as it once was.
Crowley was relaxed in the casual sprawl he naturally slid into, the side of his foot resting against Aziraphale's ankle. Aziraphale was drifting happily, slightly slouched in his chair, enjoying the casual touch and ambiance. They didn't have to feel guilty or afraid or worry about what anyone else thought anymore. They were finally, truly, free.
Apropos of nothing, Crowley sat up ramrod straight.
“I just think," he started, slurring just slightly and lips jutted out in a pout, "if Adam did have a part in us coming back, we wouldn't have missed the dinosaurs.”
Aziraphale startled, then laughed, leaned over just a bit to far – right into Crowley's chin – pulled back, recalibrated the distance, and kissed him.
It was a little off center and Crowley brought his hand up to adjust the angle.
The kids in the background started catcalling and whistling at them.
They smiled against each other's lips.
It was perfect.
