"There's no plan, there's no race to be run.
The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun.
There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come.
I'll be your man if you got love to get done."
- "No Plan," Hozier.
While they sipped celebratory champagne after toasting to the continued life of the world and humanity, a nightingale sang in Berkley Square. A demon, who deep down was actually a really good person, and an angel, who was just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, sat and chatted about nothing at all. The celebration was not just for the successful thwarting of the apocalypse, but also a celebration of their newfound freedom. For once, they could lead their lives how they wanted to, and that was something that they have thought about for a long, long time.
In the demon Crowley's case, he had wanted freedom for some time, since the Victorian era. That's why he had asked for the holy water; he'd rather die free than live in Hell. (That's right; Milton had actually spoken to Crowley about the whole affair, but he took generous embellishments where he could. Most Biblical writers did, of course. That's why all of the Almighty's pronouns were wrong). His failure to obtain holy water was one of the reasons why Crowley went to sleep for so long. Well, that, and Aziraphale didn't want anything to do with him, and without the angel, Crowley really had nothing to keep him occupied. To live for, actually.
For the angel Aziraphale's case, while he never contemplated suicide, he had known loneliness for far too long. He never put the name "Freedom" to his greatest desire. After all, so long as he did what Gabriel tasked him with, he was free to do as he liked. And if it weren't for the fact that most of his tasks were unsavory, Aziraphale wouldn't have issue with it. Sometimes it made it hard to believe that he was on the right side. The more time spent with Crowley, the more Aziraphale didn't see any real difference between angels and demons. Just like with the humans, it was their actions that defined them, not their lot in life.
"So what's in it for us now, angel?" Crowley asked, his champagne flute half-full.
Daintily tapping his pursed lips with a corner of his napkin, Aziraphale pondered the question. "How do you mean, dear?"
"Well, there's no Apocalypse to worry about now. Both sides are going to leave us well enough alone. No temptations or miracles to perform unless we want to. No Ineffable Plan… at least, not any with immediacy." Crowley's wrist rolled, gesturing with his champagne flute but not spilling a drop. "How do you plan on keeping yourself busy?"
Aziraphale's bright eyes went completely round. "I hadn't thought that far ahead if I'm being honest."
"You didn't think we'd actually manage to do it?" Crowley didn't sound surprised or hurt in the least. "Or you didn't think we'd make it out alive from either of our sides?"
"The first one, I suppose." Aziraphale fiddled with his napkin, suddenly shy.
Rather than saying anything, Crowley made a noncommittal humming noise, low in the back of his throat. He threw back the rest of his champagne and called for a refill with an imperious lift of his finger. Aziraphale waited until the waiter left them both with topped off champagne flutes before speaking again.
"What about you, Crowley? Do you have any plans?"
Crowley licked the champagne off of his lips in a very serpentine gesture that had Aziraphale entranced. "Just one plan."
"Oh?" Aziraphale was surprised. "Do tell."
Taking his time, Crowley stretched his long, long legs underneath the table until he bumped the toe of his boot against Aziraphale's ankle. The action was hidden beneath the white tablecloth, but of course, Aziraphale felt it. "I plan on spending my time with you without having to worry about what anyone says on it. We don't have to hide anymore, Aziraphale. It can be just us two against the world."
A pretty blush spread across Aziraphale's chubby cheeks as easily as butter on warm toast. "Oh, Crowley," he murmured, warmth spreading through his middle that wasn't from the champagne.
"What do you say, angel?" Crowley put his hand on the table, halfway to Aziraphale's side, palm up. He didn't even wiggle his fingers to try to tempt Aziraphale, but it wasn't out of misplaced confidence. If Aziraphale weren't so adept at reading Crowley's expressions, he'd suspect that Crowley was smug, but he knew the truth. In fact, Crowley's earnestness meant he was very, very anxious and unsure. But Aziraphale appreciated his vulnerability almost as much as he knew he loved the demon. The angel had no doubts about what his answer would be.
He placed his palm in Crowley's, and it fit there as if it always belonged. "Yes, my dear. I would like that very much."
Crowley smiled, and though his golden eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses as always, Aziraphale felt like they were shining like stars with his happiness. "Let's go home, my angel."
"Home?" Aziraphale parroted, not ready to part from Crowley yet. It felt like they were only just reunited, and despite their partnership going back for over a millennium, all the time in the world would never be enough for what they had now.
It was more than partnership, Aziraphale was sure of it. That love that always surrounded Crowley that Aziraphale had acclimated to and called 'friendship,' felt like it increased a thousand times over. It was like sitting next to a sun instead of a fireplace. The love he sensed nearly knocked the breath from Aziraphale's lungs, made him woozy, and it was so addictive. He didn't want to ever have to let Crowley go.
"Yes, home. To the bookshop."
"Together?" Aziraphale checked. He had to be sure. Now it was his turn to ask and to know.
"Together."
So, they did. And nothing ever did come between the angel and the demon ever again. Not even the real end of the world, but that wasn't for a while yet.
"Sit in and watch the sunlight fade.
Honey, enjoy, it's getting late.
There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein.
As Mack explained, there will be darkness again."
- "No Plan," Hozier.