In the corner of the bedroom, the now extremely tiny elephant let out a quiet but exultant trumpet. If translated into English it would have run along the lines of, "About bloody time too!"

Elephants can't fist-pump but if they could, this one would have done just that. Instead, it allowed itself a moment of smugness. It felt it was justified in being so proud of itself. Normally elephants in the room are only responsible for making people confess their feelings. After so many thousands of years of following these two idiots around and finally succeeding, it had been appalled to find within minutes that all of its efforts could be in vain. In desperation, and strictly against all the rules of elephant-in-the-rooming, it had followed Aziraphale across town to his former head office and had then sneakily projected a suggestion into his head just as he approached the escalators.

The elephant looked across to the bed and then, fluttering its wings for maximum take-off, lifted into the air and flew quietly across the room until it was hovering over the bed. It looked down at Aziraphale and realised how, even with his eyes closed, he looked completely exhausted. Oh well, the elephant thought, it had already broken some rules, so what the heck. It lifted its trunk and gently puffed in the angel's face and Aziraphale instantly fell into a peaceful sleep. The elephant nodded approvingly. He needed to rest and recover from his ordeal. To ensure that Crowley wouldn't wake up too soon and disturb him, the elephant gave the demon a short gentle puff as well, just as a top-up.

Then, in one final touch of love and compassion, the elephant puffed gently over Aziraphale's right hand and healed his finger.

Elephants can't normally smile but, taking one last look at Her favourite angels, this elephant smiled.

Then it translocated itself out of the apartment and went off in search of other idiotic couples who needed a nudge – or an enormous shove – to admit their feelings for each other.

Maybe it would start in Baker Street.

Author's Note:

Blame this on my angst-loving plotbunny, who sourly watched me while I was delightedly reading so many fluffy and sweet and romantic Good Omens fics and memes and all sorts, and who promptly latched onto a throwaway but heartwrenching comment somewhere on Tumblr which suggested that Crowley might not be able to touch Aziraphale without pain because the angel is too holy and therefore burns any demon who comes into physical contact with him. She promptly cracked her furry knuckles, said, "I'm 'avin' that!" and chewed savagely on my toes until I was forced to write this.

Just be glad that this has a happy ending. For a scarily long time it wasn't going to be that way. Regular readers of my Sherlock fic know how often my plotbunny loves to leave stories on an unfinished ending, and leaves the reader to draw their own conclusions as to what happened next. For ages this story was going to be completely vague about what Aziraphale had negotiated, and with whom, and what the price was. Similarly to Aziraphale, I've never claimed to be the smartest of angels writers, and sometimes I can be a bit slow on the uptake, and I simply couldn't think of a storyline which explained what he had done. Thankfully I had a moment of inspiration long after I'd started writing. My plotbunny is not pleazzed. Yes, I think she really is Beelzebub on Earth.

Actually, I guess this does end on a sort of cliffhanger (*glowers at the smug-looking bunny*), but I think we can all be fairly confident what happened next, and if you want to head-canon your own epilogue to the epilogue, you're welcome to do so!

Sorry (a bit) about the slight off-topic divergence while Aziraphale was remembering Satan's attractive voice! All the fic I've written since October 2010 has been Benedict Cumberbatch-related (either Sherlock or Cabin Pressure) and I never imagined writing for any other fandom. It felt like a slight betrayal to do so, so I kind of had to crowbar in a vague Benedict reference here just to calm my jangled nerves. But it still didn't calm them enough, hence the last line of the epilogue.

Also, of course, we know that it's canon that the elephant went on to Baker Street, because we heard it in the episode The Sign of Three. Clearly the elephant's latest case is still a work in progress, but hopefully it won't take six thousand years this time.

Oh, and by the way, one of Crowley's sleepy mumbles was inspired by my admiration for 'mistysblueboxstuff,' the Tumblr name of one of the best fanartists out there. Go and have a look at their awesome Good Omens art if you know what's good for your soul. Or your lack of soul. Whatever. Just go and look at it. Even Michael Sheen and Neil Gaiman have reblogged their work! (Congratulations, you talented genius.)