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The first thing that Crowley realized when he woke up was that he was warm. That is to say, warmer than usual. He realized moments after that there were a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, and someone's head was resting on his chest.
He opened his eyes, the light of his room borderline painful as he took in his surroundings. His gaze drifted to the person next to him, remembering suddenly where he was and what had happened.
In order to understand the scene laid in front of him, he had to go back to the Beginning. Not to the Garden of Eden, but rather the moment that Aziraphale had agreed to spend his night at Crowley’s flat less than 12 hours ago. The memories trickle in slowly as his brain wakes up, pictures of Gabriel, Beelzebub, and Adam swimming by.
Then he remembered the bus ride home, the entire drive silent. He remembered how Aziraphale took his hand as he sat, their fingers intertwined, and rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. They didn’t need to speak, Crowley remembered thinking, they just needed proof that the other was still alive, still breathing against all of the odds that were thrown at them.
Crowley changed his focus to be on the soft features of Aziraphale’s face. Small details that Crowley had never really noticed before this moment. They’ve been close together, sure. Face to face in some situations. But they had typically been arguing in those moments. Crowley’s focus was on proving some arbitrary point, not Aziraphale’s eyelashes, or nose, or mouth.
These were small details that he, by all means, could have noticed thousands of years ago. Aziraphale was rather consistent in the way that his corporation looked, unlike Crowley who loved to change his appearance depending on the era. Crowley supposed that he just never had a moment where they were this close together for longer than a few minutes.
Aziraphale’s breath shifted and moments later his eyes fluttered open. Crowley thought for a moment that it might be smart to look away, try to pretend that he wasn’t openly staring at his best, and only, friend. Something made him think otherwise, though, and his gaze remained fixated on Aziraphale’s face.
Crowley watched as the angel’s eyes slowly focused on the room, and he assumed that Aziraphale was going through the same train of thought that he had done just minutes ago. The haze over the blue eyes that Crowley adored faded away. Aziraphale’s face softened once more and a smile replaced the pursed lips.
“Good morning, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Mornin’ angel,” Crowley managed to say, his heart racing in his chest.
Crowley had never truly allowed himself to think about what the emotion he felt for Aziraphale was. He knew, obviously, that he loved the angel. There was something about naming it and allowing himself to openly feel that emotion that felt dangerous, though. He had expressed it in unusual ways throughout the time of them knowing one another: remembering that Aziraphale wanted a specific first edition and managing to get it for him, bringing him to restaurants that Crowley knew Aziraphale would love, going to see plays that he would have otherwise never considered seeing. But those were things he did because he cared for Aziraphale in a way that a sorta co-worker type person would.
That is what Crowley told himself, at least.
Crowley knew himself better than that, though, and he knew that he loved Aziraphale. The last 24 hours of his life did nothing if not prove that. Which made the closeness, the expression, the everything of this moment impact Crowley even more.
“Did you, uh, sleep… well?” Crowley asked.
Aziraphale’s smile grew as he moved one of his hands to rest on Crowley’s chest.
“I suppose I did. Maybe you are onto something with this whole sleeping thing.”
Crowley simply nodded in response, and Aziraphale closed his eyes.
“Should we talk about the plan for today, then?” Crowley asked.
“Hm, I don’t know, dear. I’d like to just stay like this for a bit longer. If that’s alright,” Aziraphale said.
Aziraphale, wanting to prove that he meant this, Crowley decided, adjusted his position so he was somehow lying even closer to him than moments ago. Their legs were now slotted together and the angel’s arms were once more wrapped around Crowley. Aziraphale sighed, a happy content sigh that reminded Crowley of how his (no, not his..) angel reacted to a dessert that he loved.
Crowley didn’t allow himself to look too far into that thought. Not yet, at least.
“Did you dream about anything, darling?”
“Huh?”
“Did you dream? I did. I’ve never had a dream before. It was wonderful. We were on a rather lovely picnic by the pond. You brought me flowers, I believe. I said that you were nice, and you hardly even argued with me,” Aziraphale rambled.
“Hmm,” Crowley managed to get out.
See, Crowley did in fact dream last night. He had, as it turns out, the exact same dream. A picnic in the park where, at the end, he brought Aziraphale back to the bookshop and kissed him. He was in no hurry to admit this.
“We talked about how beautiful your nebula was.. is! It is still there, afterall. I remember… Well, I remember watching it erupt, er, come into existence? Anywho, I remember being there next to you and thinking ‘it makes sense that a being this exquisite would make its equal in the stars’. I look at the stars to this day and know that it was you that created something so beautiful. It would have been such a shame had Earth been destroyed,” Aziraphale said.
At some point in the middle of his rambling, Aziraphale moved to prop his head onto his hand and look at Crowley. This meant that he was able to watch the blush that spread across Crowley’s face, a fact that Crowley did not entirely know how to feel about.
“Do you have tea?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that burst from his throat, echoing throughout the bedroom. He wasn’t quite ready to tackle the information that had just been thrown at him, though, so he allowed the distraction while he had it.
“Yes, angel, I do. Suppose we should get ready for the day now?”
Aziraphale grinned and stood from the bed, eyes still trained on Crowley as he did the same. Together, they walked hand in hand (this is something new, Crowley thought to himself) into the kitchen where there was now tea being kept in a cabinet that, moments ago, was empty.
Crowley did not have tea in his flat, but that was nothing a quick demonic miracle couldn’t fix. Especially when he was able to watch Aziraphale bustle around the kitchen. It hit him at this moment that there was something very domestic about this morning. Waking up beside Aziraphale, talking in hushed tones as they each fully woke up, and now this.
Crowley had slept beside people before. He didn’t love temptations that involved some sort of sexual encounter, but he had performed them occasionally when need be. Those mornings were always painfully awkward, though, and none of them made him feel this strange feeling of bliss.
“How did your dream end?” Crowley asked as he sat on the counter.
“Oh, I don’t remember… I suppose I just woke up before the ending,” Aziraphale said, but there was something about the tone that was a dead giveaway that he was lying.
Crowley was tempted to leave well enough alone, to not push further on the topic. But he spent too many thousands of years denying himself Aziraphale. There were no guarantees that they would even survive to see each other after… Well, after whatever horrible punishment Heaven and Hell decided on for them. Crowley had to know, he needed to know whether or not Aziraphale loved him, too.
“S’fine if you don’t wanna tell me. But I think that, in your dream, I drove you back to your bookshop. Didn’t I?”
Aziraphale’s hands froze in the middle of picking up his cup. He looked at Crowley, and Crowley couldn’t tell if that was fear or something else in the angel's expression.
“I brought you there and I helped you find a vase for the flowers. You set them on your desk, next to some fancy new book you managed to find. One that you’ve been wanting to get for years now. You turned to say goodnight to me but before you could, I kissed you.”
Aziraphale nodded at this, his expression turning to disbelief.
“How.. How did you..”
“You asked me if I remembered you from when I made the nebula, after. I said no,” Crowley said.
“You did indeed.” Aziraphale’s response was shaky.
“I lied. I remembered you. I remember looking at the golds and the reds and the colors bursting in the skies. I remember you watching me instead. I remember the exact moment I decided I adored you, that you were someone I could trust despite the whole opposite side shit.”
“What are you trying to say, Crowley?”
“We have always been us. From the moment you helped me when I was an angel to today. No matter how much we tried to fight it. It must have been some sort of fate, since that Agnes lady knew somehow that you’d find the book and… Well, anyway. What I’m trying to say is that we have spent far too long trying to act like we don’t care about each other in a way that is meaningful. We do. Obviously. You can tell me all you want that we aren’t even friends, and I can tell you all I want that I will go off somewhere and forget about you-”
“But we both know it is not true,” Aziraphale cut Crowley off and said.
Crowley nodded. He hopped off the counter, wanting to be able to face Aziraphale.
The two stood silent, staring at each other.
“I just-”
“Crowley I-”
They both stopped speaking.
“You first,” Crowley tried.
“No, I think you should talk first.”
Crowley nodded again, his eyes cast at the ceiling rather than Aziraphale’s face now.
“I was terrified that the world would end and that we would be separated. I’m still.. not fully convinced that this won’t be the last time we ever see each other. But I…”, Crowley paused and for a moment wished he had his glasses to hide the tears that had begun to slide down his cheeks, “I really enjoyed waking up beside you and… sitting next to you and..”
Crowley groaned in frustration, angry at himself for not being able to properly voice the way he felt in this moment, how he felt about Aziraphale.
“May I kiss you?” Aziraphale asked suddenly.
“Wh- Yes-”
Before Crowley could say another word, Aziraphale’s hands were on either side of his face and they were kissing.
Or, rather, something along the lines of kissing. It was messy, Crowley vaguely thought, and their lips weren’t really lined up properly. But they were, in fact, touching. His heart felt like it might explode in his chest as he rested a hand on Aziraphale’s waist. Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley and laid his head on his chest.
“Crowley, I am so sorry. I should have.. I don’t know what I should have done, actually. I just know I shouldn’t have done that, or asked that,” Aziraphale said, voice shaking.
“Angel, it’s okay. That was perfect.”
Crowley gently pushed Aziraphale’s chin up so they were looking at each other. Behind Aziraphale, Crowley could see the sun rising outside of the windows. The golden light spilling into the flat and he could have sworn that the angel was glowing.
“You are perfect, Aziraphale.”
Crowley leaned in once more, pressing a proper kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. They stood in Crowley’s kitchen, arms around one another as they poured each of their thoughts and emotions into this one singular moment.
By the time that the two had decided that they could exist without holding the other close, the sun had risen fully in the sky.
“Oh dear, my tea's gone cold,” Aziraphale said.
Crowley snorted and took his seat on the counter once more. He tried to appear far more confident than he felt at that moment. After years of near admissions and repression of emotions, he was in a state of shock of what was happening.
He couldn’t go back to how things were before, Crowley realized. He knew they needed a solid plan. He knew he needed to stay by Aziraphale’s side.
“You can make a new one later, angel. We should discuss the plan for today now. I would love to make sure that nothing happens to either of us. I would enjoy being able to have more moments like this with you once we don’t have to worry about Heaven or Hell anymore.”
The two discussed a plan to body swap to trick the enemy in between short kisses and, despite his previous statement, Crowley brewing fresh tea for Aziraphale. His angel. Crowley had been so distracted by this morning that he hadn’t even realized that the Bentley was parked outside when he left to check on Aziraphale’s bookshop.
They had decided after this that they would spend more evenings together, falling into a rhythm of falling asleep holding one another and waking up before dawn for tea. The first day of the rest of their lives had gone fairly well, to say the least.