Celebration
Celebrating stopping the apocalypse by going to the ritz. Drunken confession. Aziraphale kisses Crowley in the street outside the ritz.
Aziraphale sipped his wine a little, as he looked carefully at his enemy turned friend. Crowley started back at him; cold amber eyes obscured by his dark sunglasses as he downed some whiskey.
"A toast," offered Aziraphale. "To the world."
"To the world," said Crowley in agreement. They clinked their glasses together. Aziraphale could feel the tension between them throughout the whole meal. It was clear that something was going on. Something was hanging between them, crucial but unspoken.
He was going to say something but couldn't quite bring himself to. What if he was wrong? What if the signs he had picked up on weren't signs at all? What if he lost the only friend he had because of a little crush? A little later, when they were on their back to Aziraphale's bookshop, Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. Sighing, he started to ramble.
"There's something between us Angel. We both know there is. At least I did, but I never said anything because of well... downstairs. But now we're free and... I know it sounds ridiculous, but can I kiss you?"
He glanced at Aziraphale with pleading eyes. Aziraphale was stunned into silence for just a moment. Then his courage found him again. "Yes."
Crowley pulls him close, hands firm on his shoulders. It's the most comfortable and at home that Aziraphale has felt in a millennium. It reminds him of being wrapped up in a warm blanket or a pair of soft wings.
In the moment where Crowley presses his lips against his Angel's, the electric energy between them finally finds an outlet, releasing as sparks of passion. Crowley's face is all sharp lines, while his lips are soft and gentle. They are laced with the lingering taste of bitter whiskey intertwined with just a little of the sweet white wine Aziraphale offered him early in the evening. Crowley was gentle words and angry outbursts, furious with the system he was trapped in.
Crowley is a beautiful conundrum of contradictions.
And in that moment, everything finally falls into place. They are no longer an angel and a demon. They are themselves. Crowley and Aziraphale. Their love makes every confusing thing that's happened and every sacrifice they've made for each other make sense at last.
"Satan I've wanted to that for a while," admitted Crowley, pulling away.
"As have I. It's certainly one way to celebrate preventing the apocalypse."
"That it is."