Adam disappeared, back to face his Satanic Father. But Aziraphale and Crowley remained on the empty, timeless plane, their hands now clutched together.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale cried, turning to the demon at his side, "What are you doing? What have to go back and he—"
"Time stopped, remember? No one will notice when we come back, it'll be like we did it at the same time. Listen, Angel," Crowley gripped Aziraphale's hand tighter, and the crank in his free hand slipped in his sweaty palm. "Just in case this doesn't work—"
"Crowley—"
"No, listen!" Crowley cut Aziraphale off, shaking the crank. If he didn't say it now, he never would. "Just in case this doesn't work out— if He wins, if you really do never talk to me again—" But he couldn't say it, no matter how much he wanted. Instead, with a quick jerk of his arm, Crowley yanked Aziraphale to him, and brought his lips crashing down on the angel's own. When they broke apart, it was with a mutual gasp that was half shock, and half utter relief. Aziraphale staggered back slightly, feeling a bruise already forming on his lip. Crowley's sunglasses had slipped down slightly, and Aziraphale could see a flicker of fear in the demon's eyes.
"Crowley," he said softly, and let go of his hand. Crowley's eyes widened fractionally, but before he could mouth any insincere words of apology, Aziraphale's fingers closed around the neck of his shirt, and pulled his face back down. The angel's kiss was gentler, but no less paralyzing, and Crowley felt as if every cell in his body had been electrified as Aziraphale consumed him, soft and slow. Their parting this time was breathless, and Aziraphale raised his eyes to meet Crowley's from inches away.
"When this works out," he whispered, and the light of the flaming sword glittered in his eyes, "we are going to talk about this properly." Crowley flushed, then grinned his usual rakish grin.
"You got it, Angel."