Crowley had never tasted heaven until he kissed Aziraphale.
He knew it was a risk when he allowed himself to be moved purely by emotion once words had ceased to be enough. So striding forward and fisting Aziraphale's lapels to pull the angel right up against him, Crowley finally did what he had wanted to do for a long time. The moment their lips met, Crowley felt like he was in a free fall – Aziraphale was frozen against him and Crowley could feel how tense he was. But then Aziraphale had lifted a hand to rest it on Crowley's shoulder blade to hold him closer and Crowley's heart leapt with hope that this encouraging gesture meant his impulsive decision to kiss him wasn't simply just welcomed, but it was reciprocated.
When they broke apart and Crowley opened his eyes, he didn't expect the look of devastation wrought over Aziraphale's face as his mouth began to quiver. Crowley felt his heart, which was rejoicing only seconds before, suddenly shrivel up in his chest and it hurt. The ensuing verbal exchange was heated and charged with six millennia of restrained emotion which was now boiling over for the first time. But with the final blows dealt, Crowley had turned on his heel, and with his aching heart ripped out of his chest and lying bleeding in the middle of the bookshop at Aziraphale's feet, he headed for the door.
…
Aziraphale didn't understand.
They were finally, in no uncertain terms, expressing their desire to be together – but Crowley's face had twisted with rage the moment Aziraphale relayed the offer for Crowley to be reinstated in Heaven.
Armageddon had certainly made Aziraphale question his devotion somewhat, and his halo might be a little metaphorically rusted these days, but Aziraphale was still good. He could make a difference – couldn't he?
Aziraphale lifts a trembling hand to where his mouth still tingles from the pressure of the kiss where Crowley had been desperately and resolutely pressed against him not minutes previously. Eyes still blown wide in shock, it's in an almost dreamlike trance that he watches Crowley's retreating figure disappearing from view as the door begins to close behind him.
'Wait –' Aziraphale chokes on the command when it catches in the back of his throat. In a panic Aziraphale raises his voice before the door latches. 'CROWLEY.'
The only sound that cuts through the silence is the latch clicking into place, the door now flush in the frame. There's a pause – a second where Aziraphale can feel his entire chest collapsing in on itself in devastation – before the door is all but kicked open again.
There, his silhouette blacked out against the blaze of setting sun making his hair appear truly aflame, stands Crowley.
His figure dominates the threshold with one arm outstretched and braced against the door to hold it open, his hips cocked to the opposite side and his head slightly bowed in resignation.
At the glorious sight of his fallen angel returned, Aziraphale feels a shuddering gasp tear through his throat. Crowley slowly lifts his head and Aziraphale can see the hard set of his jaw. He swaggers back into the shop and in one fluid motion, whips off his sunglasses, shoving them in his jacket pocket.
Aziraphale longs to lurch towards him, to hold him, to savour that sweet, sinful mouth once more. Yet, he remains frozen in place as Crowley comes to a stop in front of him. His gaze locks onto Aziraphale, serpentine eyes holding steady and unwavering.
'One night, Angel,' Crowley says through gritted teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping. 'Give us just one night together. And then you can make your decision.'
'Crowley –'
'I don't want to beg,' Crowley pushes his chin higher in resolution. 'But I will. I'll do it for you, Aziraphale. I'll do it for us.'
'I – I – I can't –' Aziraphale can barely stand his hesitant stammering, even though deep down, he knows exactly what he wants.
'I'll get on my fucking knees for you, Aziraphale, is that what you want?!'
'No – !'
'Then tell me,' Crowley's eyes are glassy and the corners of his mouth tremble. 'Tell me what you want.'
Aziraphale opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he closes it again. But with a heavy sigh, he tries again. 'I want you.'
Crowley's expression softens. 'You have me.'
'Please, Crowley,' Aziraphale begs. 'Come back to Heaven. Be by my side. Help me make a difference. Help me make a change.'
'No.'
Aziraphale tries not to cry. 'Please,' he whispers.
Crowley rakes a hand roughly through his hair before dragging it down his face, brows furrowed in despair. His voice strains, heavy with emotion, causing Aziraphale's heart to ache at the sight of Crowley's profound suffering. 'I can't turn around again,' he says, his voice brittle. 'That was the only chance I had to walk away from you.' He inhales deeply like he's desperately trying to compose himself. 'But then you said my name.' Crowley's voice cracks.
Aziraphale swallows the rock lodged in his throat. 'And you came back,' his audible relief breaking on the last word at the inflection, and he exhales a shuddering breath.
Crowley looks tortured when he presses his lips together and shakes his head slightly. 'I'll always answer your call, Angel.'
…
Crowley begins to lose his confidence in the decision to turn back once Aziraphle asks him again to go back to Heaven. He can feel them going round in circles but at the heart of it, he knows Aziraphale wants the same thing as him. Each other.
'One night,' Crowley repeats.
Aziraphale swallows hard. 'And then what?'
Crowley can't verbalise it – something inside him just knows that Aziraphle would never go back to Heaven if they spent the night together. His mouth, however, struggles to articulate this theory and instead, he ends up half shrugging.
'Give me a chance, Angel,' Crowley says eventually. 'Give me – give us – the night. I want to show you how it could be – what we could have together. Go to bed with me. Wake up with me. You make me crave domesticity. You are my home, Aziraphale. This bookshop, this planet – you. Let me show you. Give me …' he feels himself running out of steam as his voice trails off. Crowley feels suddenly self conscious. 'Give me one night,' he repeats somewhat lamely.
In the silence, Crowley's chest rises and falls heavily and he has never been so painfully aware of his lungs before – had they always felt this tight?! Crowley looks carefully at Aziraphale's expression and desperately tries to discern any positive reaction after his speech.
With a renewed confidence, Crowley takes a sobering breath. 'Step over the edge, Angel. Fall for me. I fell for you a long, long time ago.'
Anguish is carved into Aziraphale's perfect face, and Crowley swears that he detects a subtle nod.
'Okay.'
If Crowley hadn't seen his lips move, he wouldn't believe he'd even heard the almost inaudible admission. Lightheaded with hope, Crowley prompts him. 'What was that?'
Aziraphale swallows roughly before nodding more assuredly. 'Okay,' he says clearly, his eyes locked on Crowley, the anguish slowly melting into an expression of self-assured composure.
'Okay?!' Crowley gapes at him with incredulity. 'I just poured out my heart to you and all you can say is okay?!'
The smile on Aziraphale's face is serene. 'Of course I'll give you the night, Crowley. I'll give you eternity.'
Crowley blinks. 'Do you really mean that?' His voice comes out as little more than a whisper, but in the heavy silence of the bookshop, it almost sounds as if he's shouting.
Aziraphale nods, his eyes glassy. 'How could I not?'
Stepping forward, Crowley presses his lips together and takes a deep breath. 'Are you sure about this, Angel?'
'I thought you were the one trying to convince me to stay?' Aziraphale asks with a teasing tone. 'Don't get cold feet on me now.'
Crowley opens his mouth to argue, but Aziraphale reaches up a hand to gently silence him with his fingers brushing Crowley's lips. Crowley immediately presses them together again and swallows hard.
'Aziraphale –'
'Kiss me, you sentimental, ridiculous fool.'
…
Aziraphale had never known how good sin tasted until Crowley kissed him.
It all felt so uncertain until the moment he had looked into Crowley's eyes. He could feel the desperation and desire radiating from Crowley's defensive stance, hands curled into trembling fists by his side as if physically restraining himself from reaching forward and grabbing him again.
But now, oh now. Crowley has one hand wrapped in Aziraphale's hair, firmly gripping the back of his head, the other slipping beneath his overcoat where Aziraphale can feel Crowley's chilly fingers skating over his ribs through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Aziraphale sighs contentedly into Crowley's mouth as he moves his hands over the demon's waist and up his back, holding him even closer. Now it was perfect – how could he have ever even considered going back to Heaven when it was currently right here in front of him and exploring his mouth with an eager tongue?
…
It could only be a miracle, tiny and insignificant, that has suddenly brought them with an effervesce of air into the top floor bedroom. Not breaking their kiss, Crowley walks Aziraphale backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and they fall, entwined, onto the bed sheets.
Pulling away reluctantly, Crowley looks down at his angel and feels a sudden overwhelming joy.
'Is … is everything okay?' Aziraphale asks unsurely.
Crowley tries to speak but his throat has closed up and instead, he simply nods. 'Perfect,' he manages. 'Just – perfect.'
With a breath of relief, Aziraphale grins and Crowley didn't know it was possible for his heart to crack with pure love for someone.
Closing the gap between them again, Crowley kisses Aziraphale with the desperation of six thousand years of lost time.
'I have loved you,' Crowley grits out between kisses. 'Since we met on the edge of the heavens with the Eta Carinae Nebula bathing you in its new light.'
Clothes are beginning to be shed, messily and urgently, turning the small floorspace into a marbled masterpiece of black leathers and white silks.
'I have loved you in every decade, in every millennia, and I will continue to love you in each one to come.' Crowley's voice is almost unrecognisable with a deep lust when he rasps, 'Aziraphale, I have loved you since time immemorial.'
…
Right here in this bookstore was the closest to Heaven that Crowley was ever going to get.
'Are you okay?' Breathing heavily, Crowley looks down at his partner.
Aziraphale can only nod somewhat vacantly, still blinking stars from his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.
Crowley's brow furrows in concern. 'Angel,' he says, still breathless, 'I'm going to need a little more than that.'
Aziraphale tries again to say something but, with a dreamy expression on his face, he gives a satisfied little sigh and shakes his head slightly in defeat.
Crowley cocks an eyebrow, looking amused. 'Six thousand years and this is what it takes to render you speechless? I wish someone had told me that sooner – I could have silenced your incessant jabbering a long time ago.'
Finally, Aziraphale finds his voice. 'I thought the point of all this was that you rather liked my incessant jabbering?' He sounds just as dyspneic as his partner.
Crowley grins, his face relaxing and Aziraphale smiles up at him. The angel practically glows with bliss.
Dropping his forehead against Aziraphale's shoulder, Crowley heaves a final sigh and releases the arm that was braced against the mattress and Aziraphale feels the full weight of his body on top of him. Crowley turns his head to rest it properly against Aziraphale's shoulder, his forehead pressed against the angel's neck. They lie there for several minutes, skin-to-skin, wordless in the aftermath of their collision as their heavy breathing begins to abate and their thumping hearts regulate into a uniform tattoo.
Aziraphale absently runs his fingers gently through Crowley's flaming hair and feels him sigh in contentment.
'If I could take a sacred name in vain right now, I would,' Crowley's voice rumbles through Azirapahle's chest.
He chuckles, his breath ruffling Crowley's hair slightly. 'You can take mine if you like.'
'If I take your name, Angel, it will be in nothing but pleasure.'