The street was clear of any humans, although Aziraphale had seen Nina poke her head out her coffee shop's door, a quick head shake was enough to send her back.

"Perhaps I should wait inside," Crowley said, clearly uncomfortable now that the plan had worked. "That is a lot of angels."

Aziraphale took his hand. "You are under my protection," he stated and he led them both into the street to meet the oncoming hoard.

The angels stood in military lines, perfectly symmetrical, perfectly still. They were not like the angels Aziraphale was used to seeing, the office workers of Heaven. These were their warriors. He had fought alongside them once but he didn't remember them being quite so large.

A honey skinned angel, arms nearly bursting from the seams of their jacket stepped forward.

"You have called us, Archangel?"

They were the picture of trained perfection, but it didn't stop the glance towards where Aziraphale's hand wrapped around Crowley's.

Aziraphale stood taller. "Twice," he said haughtily.

The angel furrowed their brow. "We have only just received your summons. There was no other."

Aziraphale could feel Crowley tense beside him and he squeezed his hand.

"We await your orders," the angel said after no response from Aziraphale.

"We have less than twelve hours."

"Is the Armageddon upon us? Will we finally fight Hell?" The angel pulled a sword out and it immediately lit aflame.

"No," Crowley said. "No war with hell. Do you not know? Angel, I don't think they know."

The confusion in Crowley's voice was echoed on Aziraphale's face.

"Were you not told to prepare for the Second Coming?"

The angel lowered his sword. "In passing. A couple thousand years ago. Did you say twelve hours?"

"How did you not hear my first call?"

"I am certain that today was the only call we received."

"But some angels came, there were six." Aziraphale looked around the faces to see if they were among the guards but there were too many to tell. "They said the rest of you didn't come because you didn't like that I was the Archangel."

"It is not for us to question God's will. If The Metatron has said you are to be Archangel, it is for us to follow your lead."

"Angel, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Crowley leaned in and whispered.

"Usually not, but in this case, I think we might be close."

"Archangel, do you wish for us to start collecting souls?"

"Not yet." Aziraphale released Crowley's hand and took a step forward. "I want you to spread out, stay out of sight and keep to the skies. Don't take a single soul, but if you see any lightning or a flaming chariot you report to me instantly."

The angel nodded his head and then turned around to direct his army. Aziraphale walked back to Crowley, the look in his eyes telling him that he wasn't putting on the brave front quite as well as he'd hoped. He took his demon's hand and headed back towards the bookshop.

Muriel was waiting at the door, her wide eyes glancing back and forth between the dispersing army and her new friends.

Aziraphale stopped and gave her a tender smile. "I have a very important job for you."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Fell, sir." She stood up proudly, waiting for her assignment.

"I want you to keep an eye on Nina and Maggie. If there is any trouble, you bring them to the bookshop immediately."

Muriel smiled. "I can do that."

"There's a dear." Aziraphale gave her a pat on the shoulder and then guided Crowley past her and into the bookshop.

"Are you sure this is the right thing?" Crowley asked when they were finally alone.

"Something blocked my call the first time. And whoever those six angels were, they lied. I think The Metatron lied too. I don't think Jesus is coming. Not anytime soon, anyway."

"I think you're right, but is it a chance you want to take?"

"It's a chance either way. I take the souls and it's not the right time and then all that is left is the damned. The balance on Earth would be thrown off to irreversible damage. I get struck from the book of life. I don't take the souls and Jesus does come, I'll probably get struck. But if I'm right. We save the world."

"It's risky," Crowley replied.

"It is, which is why with the…" Aziraphale glanced at the clock, "10 hours and forty three minutes we have to wait, I don't want to waste."

Crowley opened his mouth to respond but Aziraphale grabbed him and pulled him close, cutting off any thought with his mouth. He couldn't believe how much time he had wasted not kissing Crowley. It was not something he had thought about before. He knew he liked touching him, a hand on his chest, a brush of shoulders or knees when they sat on their bench, but this, this was something else entirely.

There was no miracle happening this time, but it didn't feel any less charged. Crowley wrapped his arms around him, pressing forward so intently that Aziraphale was forced to walk backward until his back hit the bookshelf. A surprised sound came from him followed by a noise he hadn't known he was capable of making even though he'd heard it plenty of times in the seventies when his neighbours were much more colourful.

Aziraphale slid his hands up Crowley's chest, feeling the ragged breath and rapid heartbeat of the demon. "Oh, Crowley," he moaned as his head fell back against the books. Crowley's kisses trailed down his neck and he nibbled along the way.

"Angel this is the best idea you've ever had. The world better not end, not now we have this."

Aziraphale spun them around, tugging at Crowley's jacket, wanting to get it off.

"Careful," Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale to him and away from the black circle he nearly stepped into.

"Always rescuing me," Aziraphale smiled as he managed to push Crowley's jacket off and kiss him again.

"You really need some more furniture in here, like a couch," Crowley said, looking around for a comfortable place to continue.

Aziraphale snapped and a bed appeared in the middle of the room, he didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed about it. He deftly unbuttoned his blazer and folded it as Crowley seemed to slither onto the bed, sprawling on his side and watching him.

"It's been a good long while since I've been on a bed," Aziraphale said, slightly breathy as he crawled on and laid down next to Crowley.

"You've been missing out," Crowley replied, sliding his arm around Aziraphale's waist.

A beat past as they met each other's eyes. Aziraphale had forgiven so many, he was very good at it, but as he looked into Crowley's eyes he finally felt what it was like to be forgiven. A weight that he hadn't even realised was on his chest lifted. He felt the tears prick at his eyes.

"My dear, Crowley," he whispered and he pressed his lips to his.

They kissed softly, loving and exploratorily. They let their hands explore the lines of each other's chests, sides and backs. Crowley did a thing with his tongue that made Aziraphale giggle, which caused him to do it again.

Aziraphale couldn't fathom how he'd read so many books on romance and still had glossed over the kissing like it wasn't an important part. Everything he could experience with Crowley, as he was learning, was most important indeed. He could hear trumpeting in his ears and he could feel peace like he'd never experienced before.

"What in the blazes is going on?"

Aziraphale and Crowley's heads snapped up at the same moment. The trumpets were not in his head after all. The Metatron stood at the end of the bed, and he looked furious.

"You are meant to be collecting souls, Aziraphale, and instead I find you here, in bed with a demon?"

"You said it was my call who I worked with," Aziraphale said, rolling out of bed and to his feet with as much dignity as the movement could muster when his lips were bruised red and his hair was thoroughly tousled.

"Angel, that argument is probably not going to work here," Crowley commented, sliding out of bed like a seasoned professional. Mild concern did however replace the smirk he'd previously been wearing.

The look Metatron gave Crowley dripped with distaste, but it was all he afforded him before turning back to Aziraphale.

"You are leaving God's faithful to be condemned? I expected more from you. The Second Coming is happening. Jesus is on his way."

"Is he?" Aziraphale countered.

The Metatron bristled in his human form. "He should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"We should go out and meet him then."

Aziraphale turned to see Crowley had already made his way over to the window. He was looking out and up into the sky.

"No lightning," Crowley reported.

In fact the sky was dark but clear. The stars twinkled the way they always had and the moon shone round and bright.

"Any chariots?" Aziraphale asked, feeling more confident as he watched the Metatron's eye twitch.

"No. In fact, it appears to be a night just like any other."

"You will regret this," The Metatron growled as he realised his plan had failed.

Aziraphale had turned dismissively, so he did not see as The Book of Life was produced from inside The Metatron's long coat.

He didn't see the pen come out, to scratch his name from the pages.

He did, however, see Crowley's panicked face as he pushed past him.

Aziraphale swore for the fourth time.