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In the beginning, there was darkness. A wish upon a shooting star soon enough had been granted.
Two hands held eachother, as tight as they could. As if breaking away could threaten the universe itself. These hands surpasses all hurdles and bounds of the cosmos and reality.
No sound. No life. Until..
“..Wot?”
The slithery ex-demon’s voice echoed in the vast abyss of—.. Well. Nothing. Nothing yet everything. Everything that can and could be.
“Wh— wait. Angel.”
Aziraphale was asleep, snoring away before Crowley repeatedly papped his face away.
“ANGEL.”
“AH— AH, WHAT?! WHERE—.. Where..?!”
They were alive. Existing. But nothing else..
“It.. Did it work?” Aziraphale said with complete confusion. Maybe fear. “I-Is it out there?”
Crowley looked around, stretching his legs, rolling his shoulders and feeling 6000 year old bones crack. How long they were floating here? God knows.
“Given we are literally in the unknown, I think theres one way to—.. Hey. HEY—“
Breaking away from Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley wildly flailed his arms and legs to float to the left. One could describe him as a toddler drowning in a swimming pool. In that direction, drifting in the darkness, was.. A crank. One they both knew all too well.
“Oh thank goodness, yes Crowley, get it!” The angel said with desperate hope, gracefully floating with him. Once Crowley grabbed the crank, he smooched it all over with outrageously loud ‘mwahs’. Even if everything was gone, what was written by him remained. And this was something he did not want to forget. It was practically his paint brush!
“Get over here— YES! HAHAAA!” Crowley kicked his feet back and forth, victorious. “I hoped that would work, brilliant, brilliant, hmm.. Hoh boy.”
Crowley’s mind was overwhelmed. Frazzled, completely filled with the fact that what he held was the key to bringing back everything. Aziraphale saw this, and could almost hear Crowley’s heart beating in the lack of air.
“Crowley.”
“Lets see.. What do I even— whats first? Earth, obviously, but.. Okay, humans, animals, air fryers, and the plants, CANNOT forget the plants—“
“Crowley.”
Aziraphale rested a hand firmly on his shoulder, squeezing it in an effort to ground him. Despite there being no ground.
“Look at me. For just a second, yes? Away from that.”
And of course, Crowley agreed, unable to say no to those eyes that looked like stars, eyes that stored universes that Crowley created.
“Just like that.. See? We’re here. It worked. We did it. And we have all the time we need.”
And thats when all sorts of ideas calmly flowed in his head. The better memories of before his fall. The lankier one’s face went all flushed from such a warm feeling, so foreign, yet not unfamiliar.
“Ngk. Ahem. Welp.” Crowley fixed his glasses. The crank turned with a firm thrust of his arm, and while he did that, the other pulled the angel in, against his chest. Aziraphale gave a telling smirk before Crowley did as well, saying those magical words.
“..Let there be light.”
Finally, their lips met once more. As bounds of lights popped, bloomed, exploded, spread.. It felt natural. It existed, as it always did.
Crowley spun Aziraphale around in the endless cosmos, the two embracing what they had for 6000 years in the way they deserved. Aziraphale felt complete, loved, and right now, satisfied with the Great Plan. It didn’t end. It was just a new chapter. Maybe God changed Her mind in the end. Who wouldn’t want these two messes to keep going and continue providing such quality entertainment for Her?
“My everything.” Crowley said. “I’ve got my everything right here. Look at all this!” He waved around a hand to the surrounding creations. “Look at you!”
Aziraphale bashfully smiled, the tip of his nose bumping against Crowley’s cheek. The air around them felt clearer. The renewed existence of light shined in their eyes, and accented every feature of their faces that they adored. Crowley’s lips, Aziraphale’s starry pupils. Its like the universe itself was thanking them for piecing it back together.
“..May I close my eyes? Just for a little while. They feel rather heavy..”
Aziraphale had just woken up from a slumber of nonexistence, yet still felt so exhausted. The weight of leadership, guilt, conformity, and loneliness. Angels in their corporeal forms don’t commonly sleep.. But Aziraphale was always a special one.
“Ahh, this er, might take a while, few hours for the engine’s gasses to keep accumulating, the book of life has some catchin’ up to do,
so.. Mhm, go right ahead. I got you, won’t want you floatin’ away from me again, eh?”
Aziraphale thought of it being like a long ride home from a big trip. They had been on plenty vacations before, and the angel always did have a tendency for plentiful car-ride naps.
“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale said. “Thank you.”
The sound of the crank spinning every minute, alongside the rhythm of Crowley’s occult heartbeat against his ear, was like a lullaby. And for the first time in so many years, Crowley got to watch him rest. To flutter those eyes shut and rest.
“Now.” Crowley pulled the restored Book of Life out of his jacket. “To prep for those finishing touches..”
Crowley, just like Aziraphale, felt complete. Even in the midst of all this heavy reconstruction. It will all be worth it. The artist creates. Expanding, changing, even adding.
To create is to be satisfied with their end product. For it to not be for nothing. But for everything.
His everything.
Their everything.