Work Text:
Here they are.
In nearly the exact same spots that they stood 2 years ago. When Crowley threw everything he had out on the table, and Aziraphale rejected it in this very bookshop.
Well, he didn’t quite reject it. He knows why Crowley took it that way, and he certainly could have done better than respond to a kiss worth 6000 years of pining with “I forgive you.” But alas, that was all in the past. There will be time to further explain everything.
All they can do now is move forward.
Quite literally, they do indeed need to move forward. There’s a gap of space between them that seems to stretch on for miles. But neither one is making the first move.
Aziraphale knows it must be him. Crowley won’t take such a risk again.
He takes a step closer to Crowley. There’s still a small bit of space between them. And still room for Crowley to step back if he wants.
Aziraphale holds his breath as he waits for Crowley to make his move. Love is indeed a game, and this is the highest stakes chess match Aziraphale has ever partaken in.
Crowley’s glasses are still on, but Aziraphale can feel him scanning, calculating. Making sure he is not reading this wrong, as before.
(Technically he had not read their relationship wrong when he kissed him before, he had just misunderstood Aziraphale’s motivations. But that was for them to talk about another day.)
Tentatively, with more hesitance than Aziraphale has ever seen Crowley have in their entire existence, Crowley takes a step forward. The space between them is now minimal, no more room for steps.
Aziraphale slowly lets out the breath he was holding. He can see Crowley intends on making no further moves.
It’s his turn.
And while Aziraphale may have once said that Crowley moved too fast for him, this is one time he wishes he would move a bit quicker. Even with Crowley standing centimeters away from him, even with the kiss that happened in this exact spot, Aziraphale feels himself hesitate.
What if somehow, after all this time, Crowley has lost his affections for him? What if this is Crowley’s final demonic temptation, to get Aziraphale to kiss him first this time, only to leave him behind as Aziraphale did?
No, that’s just silly. They just stopped the Second Coming from happening together. It took the both of them to create a miracle so powerful together, that God Herself was able to see that humanity was worth keeping around. A miracle that intense could only be fueled by the strongest power in the universe, love.
Aziraphale knows that he has to be the one to make the move this time. Crowley is certainly having worse doubts than he is. It’s only fair. Two years ago, it must have taken everything Crowley had within him to pull Aziraphale in and kiss him as if Heaven and Hell depended on it (and in a way, they did).
It’s the least Aziraphale can do to be the one to start it this time. To be the one to kiss Crowley.
Oh, why does he continue to hesitate? For all they’ve been through, it’s as though he still needs a sign. Something to tell him that this is okay, that he finally can have everything he’s always wanted.
God won’t do it, She vowed to leave them alone for the rest of time.
And goodness knows he doesn’t want a sign from Satan.
He can’t even look to Crowley for the sign, as he has his horrid sunglasses on.
(Aziraphale never liked those things. He knows that Crowley uses them to keep mortals from running in fear whenever they see his eyes, but Aziraphale would always prefer them off when they’re together. He’s always loved Crowley’s eyes.)
In this scenario, Crowley is using the sunglasses to block Aziraphale from being able to truly read his feelings.
(It’s not entirely a foolproof plan, however, as they both know Aziraphale can see right through any wall that Crowley tries to put up. But still, he hesitates that this is the one time he is reading Crowley’s emotions entirely wrong.)
Through the corner of his eye, a shadow moves in the window. Just above Crowley’s shoulder, Aziraphale allows himself to glance his eyes away from Crowley for just a moment to see what it is.
A bird has just landed on a tree branch. A tree branch that certainly wasn’t there before, as they are in the middle of Soho in Aziraphale’s bookshop. The only plants around are Crowley’s potted friends that have taken up residence inside the shop.
But no matter, because once Aziraphale’s eyes focus as he looks through the window, he takes in a small gasp.
A nightingale. On a branch that just appeared out of nowhere right outside his bookshop.
That is as clear a sign as one can ask for.
His eyes go back to Crowley, and he gently reaches up to take off the sunglasses. Crowley is unmoving as this happens, but the moment his eyes are revealed, they seem to be darting all over Aziraphale’s face. Confused and searching.
Aziraphale sets the glasses on a table beside him without his eyes ever leaving Crowley’s.
“I love you,” he says confidently. No hesitation.
Crowley doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t need to. His piercing yellow eyes stop right on Aziraphale’s.
Aziraphale’s hands move up to cup Crowley’s cheeks, and he pulls him in.
Their lips meet, and this time there is no room for misinterpretation.
Crowley’s response is immediate, kissing him back with everything he has. Aziraphale can feel a tear falling down Crowley’s cheek, and all at once he knows he made the right move and took way too long to make it.
They part for a moment, resting on each other’s foreheads. There’s no need to catch their breath, they are immortal beings after all. This moment is just too sacred, too perfect, to rush through.
Aziraphale speaks first, breaking the silence. “Do you hear that?”
Crowley scrunches his eyebrows and locks eyes with Aziraphale. “Hear what?”
Aziraphale doesn’t verbally respond, only gives a small smile as he goes back in for another kiss.
As their lips meet, a nightingale begins to sing.