Crowley growled in annoyance at the feel of the few, but powerful rays of light hitting his face. He tries to awake, stretch a little when a sense of panic invades him when he realizes that he doesn't recognize that place, nor those are his sheets, nor those his curtains, and of course that couldn't be his bed.
By instinctive reaction, he turns quickly to his right side and what he sees causes his heart to run out of his chest and that a great sense of calm invades him.
"That damn dream again," thinks with frustration before being carried away by the lofty environment.
The ethereal beauty of Aziraphale is something that his heart barely endures. The blond remains serene with his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. The redhead does nothing but lies beside him to admire more comfortably the blond who, with a gesture of perennial imperturbability, continues to sleep.
Time doesn't pass for the demon in that scene that seems perfect, eternal, a dream brought to reality. With total fascination, he realizes that this is where he should be and where he wants to spend the rest of the centuries.
A smile appears his face at those thoughts, realizing he was damned, a sentence he happily accepted. In Aziraphale arms, kissing his lips anxiously and affectionately, among sighs, touches, and groans wanting more, he found his paradise. And last night did nothing but confirm all that.
With an enchantment that no demon would have considered proper, he brings his hand to the cheek of the angel and caresses it with care and sweetness, as if he were touching a piece of art that didn't deserve to be smeared by his dirty hands.
The blue eyes open slowly getting used to the light around him. His blue orbs meet with the amber eyes of the redhead and that gesture was enough to realize what had happened yesterday.
"Crowley ..." Aziraphale murmurs, with the amorousness still running through his veins.
"Good morning," the demon replies hoarsely, still rapt as to say more than two words.
He continues to caress his face and with his free hand he takes that of the blond, holding it tightly, confirming that this wasn't another dream with which he dared to fantasize at night, but the ineffable and now tangible reality.
He kisses his lips that he tastes like pure honey. And he delights at the glorious sensation that runs through his body.
"I'm going to make breakfast, okay?" He whispers almost in his ear.
"But you don't like eat breakfast, my dear..." the angel answers.
"But you do," he answers tersely and gives him another kiss on the lips that numbs the blond and makes his desire to stay with him stronger.
He slips out of bed almost without wanting to do so and moves towards the kitchen with his feet dragging, but he doesn't even get into the place when he sees a paper sheet and a pen abandoned there and suddenly it occurs to him that he has a better idea.
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London 2017
Dear Angel:
This. This is what I've wanted my whole fucking life.
No, not having sex, making love to you, that's what I want. Romantic sex while we kissing and cuddling until we fall asleep, and waking up the next morning in each other's arms, and repeat it every day for the rest of eternity. All that is what I want.
And not just for one day or one night! I want more from you, all from you for the rest of my life.
Aziraphale, I love you and even now I still don't know what to do with everything I feel when we are together, and I want to see if I can figure up all this mess in my head... together.
Because, when I'm with you, well, when I touch you, it makes everything feel more real, it reminds me that this is real now, that makes me feel like I'm the luckiest bastard that has ever walked the earth.
I guess these things are meant to be.
It's strange how all wonders in this world, the ones I've seen and the ones I'll see someday, mean nothing to me every time I hold your hand. I swear I see my whole universe inside your eyes: Beautiful and infinite.
And I know that you fear, I know that you suffer every time I kiss you, that I look at you or that I touch you because you believe that at any moment I will leave you, that I will abandon you and leave you alone as if you were not worth it. But let me tell you it won't be like that.
Fuck, Aziraphale, how could I do it? If I have been in love with you for 6000 years, I've waited so long, so much that I fought, suffered and cried for you. To leave you? Simply nonsense. You are the love of my life, I could never do it.
Everything, you mean everything to me, angel.
So stop kissing me like you're saying goodbye. This is the beginning, not the end.
Aziraphale Z. Fell, I love you and there is nothing in this whole world that could make you leave. I would never run away from you. I love you.
I love you. I have always loved you from the first moment. And always, I will always love you. Always, I promise you.
Loving you always,
Anthony J. Crowley
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Aziraphale had expected nothing more than imperturbable and almost boring everyday life of an angel who lived only to work miracles, but now, after an unsuccessful end of the world, he didn't know what to expect.
He is completely awake and opens his eyes when he feels a new weight on him. A tray with breakfast is shown in front of him and the emotion he feels doesn't allow him to speak.
Look at the red-haired demon, who, without glasses, with a somewhat sleepy expression, and with completely ruffled hair, does nothing but look even more handsome than usual. Without saying a word, leave an envelope on the tray where he can read, with neat calligraphy, a simple dedication: "To Aziraphale"
"A letter ..." he whispers as if he had never seen one in his life.
"I will write you a letter every day, angel, from today until eternity," he replied, looking at him in a state of enchantment typical of a being completely and undoubtedly in love with his partner. He is not asking him, he is informing him that every day there will be a different letter, with thousands of things to say and that have not yet been expressed, with the tacit promise to declare eternal love in each of them.
His gesture must have been stunned because shortly after the demon he simply added:
"I told you we would recover everything lost, starting now."
Aziraphale doesn't know what to say and just looks down, almost ashamed of so much open declaration of love. He looks up with a significant blush on his cheeks and sees how the demon is still standing next to him, staring at him, as if he were studying hard every detail of his face.
"What's wrong, dear?" He asks, releasing little nervous laughs.
Crowley lets out a sigh and, still looking at him, he says in a hoarse voice but full of expressive affection:
"Your eyes are the most beautiful I've ever seen."
Aziraphale laughs and Crowley joins him. The blond takes it from the chin near it towards his face until finally their foreheads are joined. There, being the breath of the demon being the only thing he hears, he realizes that being there is the best thing he has dreamed of.
Perhaps it was the serenity around him, perhaps it was the look of complete devotion that the devil dedicated to him, or perhaps it was the enormous feeling of peace and security that settled in his chest, letting him know that he could not be in a better place. And it's not like he wanted to be in another place that wasn't there.