Chapter Text
The door shut behind the zombies. Crowley slumped on the chaise, looking at the chaos of the dressing room. Costumes flung about in technicolour, the stale sweat mixing with the sweet smell of makeup.
This was it, then?
This was where it ended?
And Aziraphale, radiant in the middle of the room, busying himself removing his make up. The bulbs shone hot and bright on his face, he was practically glowing. Perhaps this was the last time Crowley would see him like this. His heart lurched. If a legion was coming for him, who knows what would happen to Aziraphale. They had doomed each other.
Aziraphale was looking at Crowley in the mirror. Studying him? He couldn’t work out what was in his gaze. It was deep, and determined.
“Crowley.” Whispered Aziraphale urgently. “The bookshop is an embassy. They can’t get you there. Come back with me?”
Crowley didn’t need persuading. If there was one thing he wanted to do, now, before he was pulled down to face Hell’s wrath, it was one last chance to drink his sorrows away with Aziraphale.
He wanted to spend his last moments on earth enjoying the company of his favourite being in existence.
Crowley stood, and helped to gather Aziraphale’s things.
Outside the theatre, two figures were huddled in an alleyway- giggling and kissing against a wall. Two young women- they should be more careful. Thought Crowley. Although in war, he supposed, anything was on the cards.
He couldn’t prevent his and Aziraphale’s discovery. However, he could protect these two. He discreetly snapped his fingers- nobody would notice them. They would be safe, for tonight.
The same could not be said of him and Aziraphale.
In the car, Aziraphale remained quiet. Crowley stared resolutely at the road, the embers of the dying fires glowing on the sides of the road. He had envisioned taking Aziraphale home after a long night out, ever since he bought the Bentley- but the visions tended to involve quite a bit more kissing, and less perilous circumstances.
Aziraphale sucked in a nervous breath. “When we get back to the shop, I have something rather important to confess.”
WHAT
Aziraphale was going to do this? Now? When they had no time left? Crowley was elated, furious, and distraught. As much as he wanted this, he didn’t want his only memories down in hell to be desperate, goodbye kisses.
“Right.” He said, trying to convey none of this. He felt Aziraphale’s gaze warming him. It was a familiar heat. Like a hot water bottle.
Upon entering the bookshop, Aziraphale closed the door hurriedly behind him, and tried to draw the curtains without causing suspicion.
“You could just do a little miracle-“
“Don’t want to draw attention.” Aziraphale said, making sure the blackouts were secured. “Besides, I know what some of the humans would think, us arriving past midnight, me hurriedly closing the curtains.” He looked away, shy. “I wouldn’t like the Lillies to be called on me again, they are most annoying.”
“That happens often?” Crowley asked, fury rushing through his veins. How dare humans try and inflict fear and shame on him for being himself? Aziraphale already had plenty of that from on high.
“Yes. I’ve always… been involved in particular circles, you know that.” Aziraphale smiled wistfully. “Though I might also have acquired a reputation as a refuge for lovers to hide if… being pursued.”
Crowley was enamoured with him. This was one of those “I gave it away,” moments, though he tried not to break into the same delighted smile. Aziraphale putting himself in between the morally corrupt law and frightened lovers was not at all surprising- it was the core of who he was, but it didn’t mean it failed to make Crowley’s knees buckle and his heart turn to syrup every single time.
“That sounds very honourable.”
Aziraphale stopped scurrying around the shop and beamed. “You really think so?”
“Yeah. I do.” Crowley said.
Aziraphale set up the wireless. Crowley set up the table in the back room. Two wine glasses, a candle. If Aziraphale was planning a confession, he deserved the right atmosphere. And Crowley wanted to remember how the candle light flickered on his cheeks. That would be an antidote to any pain for at least 1000 years of whatever faced him next.
“Chateauneuf du Pape?” Aziraphale asked, presenting Crowley with the bottle.
“Perfect.”
Aziraphale sat down, and fiddled with his hands as Crowley poured. “Now, about that confession.”
“Yeah.” Crowley steeled himself. He wanted to remember every word, every action in every minute detail.
“I don’t think we’ll be hearing from Hell any time soon.”
Crowley was confused. “Sorry?”
Aziraphale reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a square of paper, sliding it over to Crowley.
The two of them looked out of the photo, hands joined on a loaded gun.
Crowley was overwhelmed. So Aziraphale wasn’t about to press him against the bookshelves, but they still had time. This wasn’t the end. The realisation exploded in his brain.
Aziraphale had saved his life.
“I swapped it out for a leaflet.” Aziraphale grinned, sipping his wine.
You clever, clever angel.
After finishing a bottle or two, and philosophising on shades of gray, they sat chatting, and listening to the music from the wireless.
As Vera Lynn’s voice floated through the air, Aziraphale’s attention turned to other matters.
“I noticed you hiding those two lovers earlier.” Aziraphale said, quiet and low. “Some would call that honourable.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t say that.“ Crowley shook his head. “Human rules about fraternising are just as redundant as heaven and hell.”
“Quite.” Aziraphale frowned. “Just… be careful.”
“I’m a demon, I don’t do careful.”
“Yes, of course.” Which was Aziraphale’s way of saying “If you say so.” Which annoyed Crowley.
Crowley wanted to just pull him into his arms, wrap around him, tell heaven and hell to stick it, and kiss him until his lips were sore. He was sick of Aziraphale being so afraid.
He yearned to take away that anxiety, to see that same silly smile he had been witness to earlier- when he was so happy doing his little penny trick, but he was utterly powerless to protect them.
Aziraphale was right to be scared.
They had both been in danger tonight. They had put each other in danger.
“There are plans, you know.” Aziraphale said, standing to clear the table, picking up their glasses.
Crowley stood to help. “Yes. Well- I’d prefer not to think about-“
Aziraphale shook his head. “Crowley… it’s coming. Armageddon.” He winced. “This planet won’t last forever.”
Crowley took the glasses from his hands, and placed them back on the table deliberately. The events of the evening, realising he wasn’t going to face a legion of demons, had made him bold. He felt lightning in his veins.
“Maybe not.” Crowley locked eyes with Aziraphale. “But I thought we were done for tonight, and you proved me wrong.”
Aziraphale smiled. “So I did.”
“And if it is going to end someday soon,” Crowley held out his hand. “Why not live a little, angel?”
Aziraphale took his hand, tentatively. He placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, signet ring flashing in the candlelight just for a moment. Crowley could feel his hand through his shirt, the overwhelming, comforting weight of trust.
He put a hand delicately on Aziraphale’s waist, and watched as he parted his lips, eyes wide with awe. Oh. This is it. Thought Crowley, desperately.
They didn’t dance. They stood, almost frozen, holding each other in the centre of the room. The music played on.
When dawn came stealing up all gold and blue-
Aziraphale’s hand tightened on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley squeezed his waist in return, eliciting a small gasp.
Was that a dream, or was it true?
Crowley dared to look into Aziraphale’s eyes, and found himself pinned in place. There was no mask, there was no pretense, no hiding. This was just them. He felt completely naked, and at Aziraphale’s mercy.
The streets of town were paved with stars-
He could taste the wine on Aziraphale’s breath. He could hear his tongue wetting his lips, and the room started to spin, falling away as the world started turning on a different axis, around the tiny space in between them. Aziraphale looked overcome, and started to finally close the distance-
And as we kissed-
Aziraphale stopped, and so did the music.
“Crowley.” He looked at the floor with a deeply troubled expression. He looked like he was going to cry, his voice cracking. “I can’t- It’s- Angels shouldn’t dance.”
Dance. They hadn’t been properly dancing. Whatever that was, it was something else. Their dance. Their elaborate feelings dance. Crowley stepped back, but Aziraphale wouldn’t let go of his hand.
“One day. If…” Aziraphale trailed off, and rubbed his thumb over Crowley’s hand.
Crowley looked at their hands, intertwined. The dark clouds of heaven and hell would never recede. There would never be an if unless the world didn’t end, somehow. They would still never have peace.
He thought of the destruction and the fear and the fire of the war. He thought of the two young women, and how the world might change for them in time, and how much they loved each other in the dark, despite the risk.
Aziraphale had nearly kissed him.
Aziraphale, an Angel, who loved his books and his home and collecting bizzare trinkets had saved his life, and then nearly kissed him.
“If.” Crowley said.
“Yes.” Aziraphale breathed.
He closed his eyes for a moment, avoiding the angel’s burning gaze. Lifting their entwined hands to his lips, he pressed a tender, deliberate kiss to the back of Aziraphale’s hand. This was a promise. A promise of “if”. Sealed with a kiss.
Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hand gently.
Crowley’s “I should go.” Echoed with “I don’t want to leave you.”
Aziraphale’s “Yes, it is late.” Sounded a lot more like “No, please stay.”
But regardless of what they wanted, or what they
needed, what they had to do was pry themselves apart, for now.
Aziraphale handed Crowley his coat.
“Bona nochy.” He said, with a sad smile.
“Goodnight, Angel.”
Crowley slipped out onto the dark street, and walked reluctantly to the car. Reaching into his pocket for his keys, his fingers brushed paper. He pulled it out to look at it, and found himself and Aziraphale staring back.
A gift from him. A message. A promise ofif.