Archive of Our Own ^beta

Outside of Time and Space, there stood a demon in prayer. Around him hazy nothing swirled like mist, but it was neither cold nor damp. Only white and seemingly solid where his feet were planted. He didn’t dare move, didn’t even speak aloud; he just pressed his trembling palms together and he prayed.

As if in response, the mists above him shifted, almost like they were reaching for him. He cried out and, desperately, Crowley held out his arms to the Creator, a gesture he never imagined he would find himself making again. From Her hands, he received the only gift She could have given him that mattered. Then, gently, he lowered himself to his knees, clutching Aziraphale to his chest. 

He scanned the angel all over, unable to tell if it had worked. 

Unwelcome tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. He needed to see. To look for signs of hope, or if there were none, he needed to commit to memory one last time every perfect feature of his best friend in the whole universe.

He leaned close, held on tighter to all that loose-jointed weight and whispered softly:

“Angel…  Aziraphale…”

Nothing. Tears again filled his eyes and this time spilled, hot as hellfire, down his cheeks.

“Angel, please…” White-blond curls jostled by Crowley’s own ragged breaths tickled the demon’s neck and drew from him a pitiful sound. “Please,” he begged again, so softly that even he wasn't sure if he was still talking to the angel in his arms or to God Herself.

“I have to tell you properly… I didn’t say it right before…”

He looked again into that ashen face, pressed his knuckles to a too-cold cheek — such a stark contrast to its usual flush of life that he had to swallow thickly in order to continue speaking.

“Aziraphale… 

“I love you… a-and I have to tell you… 

“Angel… you were wro-…” His voice failed him once more and he took a pause to revv back up. “Some-… ngh… Some things do last forever… and I would like… to spend eternity with you… so, please-… Please wake up…”

An oppressive silence followed; fear and grief clenched a fist around his chest, right where a heart might be and he had nearly dissolved into a sobbing mess before he noticed, with a shock, the flutter of eyelids and a hand groping weakly at the air.

“Angel!” He grabbed that hand and clasped it to his face; watched as heavy lids struggled to open.

“Crowley…” The other’s voice was faint, his eyes, unfocused.

“I’m here,” replied the demon and pressed his lips to the angel’s damp forehead, giddy to find his temperature already several degrees improved.

“Crowley… I think… I spoke with God…”

The air left Crowley’s lungs with a noise that could have been a laugh. And though he could hardly focus over the dizzying rush of relief, he managed to respond with something close to affected coolness:

“Did you, now? And what did She say?”

“I…” Aziraphale went quiet and Crowley pulled back a little to examine the puzzled wonder on his face. Like he’d just been woken from a vivid dream that all too quickly fled. “… I’m terribly afraid I don’t recall… but I do remember…”

Those blue eyes focused clear as sky then, looking so deeply into Crowley’s own that, if there was a heart pumping somewhere inside him, it  would have skipped a few beats.

“I remember hearing you, Crowley…”

Then he smiled, just a little, very weakly and said:

“I love you… and I would also like very much…  to spend the rest of forever with you…”

Crowley laughed aloud then, a real laugh which drew Aziraphale’s small smile into a fully toothed grin. Then finally, like the inevitable collision of two celestial bodies stuck in tandem orbit, they came together and they kissed. And it was such a stark contrast to the last time, so soft and filled with such delight that it could’ve stopped one’s metaphorical heart.