It would take a small miracle to get a room at the Ritz without a reservation.
Later Aziraphale lay warm and contented in Crowley's arms. Six thousand years, and there were things to learn about the human body much more interesting than the taste of crepes. He shifted a little. Crowley made a small, sleepy noise and held him tighter.
Aziraphale turned anyway, facing the drowsy demon. Humans could do this sort of thing more than once a day, he recalled. "Listen." He stroked Crowley's cheek. The long lashes fluttered open.
Aziraphale stared. "Your eyes."
Crowley wiped at the corners. "Not getting sentimental, it's just..."
"No, your eyes." Aziraphale, frustrated, stuck out an empty hand. "Mirror." Nothing happened. "Let there be a mirror." Gritting his teeth, he slid out of bed and dragged Crowley with him by one wrist.
Crowley squinted and grumbled when Aziraphale pushed him toward the vanity sink in a small alcove by the en suite. "What? What?"
Aziraphale slapped at a light switch. "For Heaven's sake, look!"
Crowley looked. Blinked. Stared. In the mirror, fully human brown eyes stared back at him.
Crowley made a small gesture, thinking dispell illusion. Nothing changed. He looked down, held out a hand palm up. "Hellfire." Nothing appeared. He looked wildly at Aziraphale. "You try. Anything."
"Let there be… roses." Nothing. "Bread. A first edition of 'The Seven Pillars of Wisdom.'" Aziraphale stared at his hands. "Crowley, is it…."
"Human. They made us human." Crowley's own hands clenched. "They found a way to punish us after all."
Aziraphale smiled, just a little, and looked in the mirror himself. "I don't know. Perhaps it's a reward."
Crowley gritted his teeth and clutched the … other man… by his bare shoulders. "Aziraphale. We are going to die."
A small, sweet smile. "I know."
Shake. "We are going to die, and God only knows what happens to us after that."
"I know what happens first." Aziraphale's hands ran lightly over Crowley's shoulders, drew him in. "First we get to live."