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They’d toasted at the Ritz, again, and had a rather lovely breakfast (or perhaps it was closer to brunch with the amount of alcohol involved) to celebrate the occasion. Well, Aziraphale had breakfast; Crowley had simply settled in to watch and opted to, instead, drink his fill on top shelf alcohol.
“You know, angel,” Crowley pursed his lips around another swig of excellent champagne, “you had me going for a moment there.”
“How do you mean, dear fellow?” Aziraphale daintily held a napkin up to his own lips, ever the gentleman (though only in terms of his manners), as he spoke.
“Well,” Crowley scratched under his chin, eyes flicking away to look at the pianist, “I— hng, I thought…” Oh, somebody help him, he’d already bared his soul once today. Hnnnn, come on you lousy excuse for a tongue, just spit it out already. “I thought you’d… really choose to leave me. ‘M glad you didn’t, ‘s all.”
Aziraphale set the napkin down, the remains of his Eggs Benedict forgotten. He looked at his companion, eyebrows furrowing.
“Crowley, you didn’t think I’d accept the Metatron’s offer, did you? After all this time?”
Crowley fixed his glasses, shoving them higher up the bridge of his nose with a sniff. “Would you blame me if I did?”
“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached for the hand cradling a flute of Dom Perignon across the table. “Not at all, but you must know that I wouldn’t throw this away. This, everything we’ve been through together, is much too precious to me for that. Would you look at me?”
“But we’re in public.”
“I know, I didn’t mean it that way.” He guided Crowley’s hand to set the flute down before it could crash onto the table. “As much as I’d like to see your bare eyes, through your glasses will be just as good. Now, would you?” Crowley moved his head back in Aziraphale’s direction, but he didn’t immediately raise his eyes. “Please?”
Crowley couldn’t ignore that gentle, pleading tone in Aziraphale’s voice and, only a tad reluctantly, he allowed his eyes to meet his angel’s.
“You don’t need to cause a fuss, angel, really, I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“I’ll fuss all I like, thank you very much,” Aziraphale waved away a waiter before they could approach the table and disturb them. “I could never choose heaven over you.” He said, squeezing the hand in his reassuringly. “There may have been a time in the past when I did, but I certainly can’t find it in myself to do something like that ever again.”
Crowley willed his eyes to stay locked on Aziraphale’s soft, sincere, blue ones. Deep down, he wanted to believe him, and, really, he did, but hearing it spoken out loud finally helped solidify that belief. He blew out a breath through his nose, leaned back in his chair (though he didn’t pull his hand away), and tried to exude an air of self-confidence.
“Getting all sappy on me, are you?” He reached for his glass with his unoccupied hand, swirling the remains of his drink and pulling his eyes away to watch the bubbles rise.
“Only because I know you like it.” Aziraphale smirked at Crowley’s squawk of protest. Oh, this demon wasn’t fooling anyone. “Now then, would you like to hear how I told the Metatron to— oh, you’ll like this one, I took a note out of your book and told them to get stuffed!”
A bark of laughter escaped from Crowley’s chest. This angel surely was one of a kind, always finding new ways to surprise and impress him. He slouched further back in his chair, intent on hearing just how well Aziraphale had held on his own against one of Heaven’s holiest host.
“You should have seen the look on his face, Crowley! His feathers were all up in a twist,” Aziraphale wiped a tear of mirth from his eye, he hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time, and it felt so good to do so along with Crowley. “Oh, I wish you could have seen it, you could have taken a photograph of his miffed expression on that clever device of yours! I would have gotten it framed!”
“You magnificent bastard, you!” Crowley managed to guffaw in the throes of laughter. “Ah, that’s why I love you.”
Aziraphale’s hand stilled the same exact moment Crowley realized what he’d just said. No, no, no, he couldn’t have two failed confessions in one day. He couldn’t bear the embarrassment of it again, even if this time it had very much been unintentional.
“What did you say?”
“‘S nothing. Forget I said anything.” Crowley tried to tear his hand out of Aziraphale’s grip, but the angel held on fast. Alright, time to change tactics “How’s the food? Brunch-ey enough for you?”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale tried to start, only to be cut off as Crowley kept rambling on.
“I’m quite enjoying the booze, real quality stuff, this is.” He knocked back the glass, not even bothering to savor it the way champagne like this ought to have been.
“Listen to me, you idiot!” Aziraphale snapped, causing Crowley’s jaw to snap shut with a click of teeth, and he winced as many other patrons looked up from their meals with a sense of nosy politeness. Once again, he spared a miracle to make the humans look away, and then visibly bucked himself up for the next bit. “I’m not proud of how I reacted to your erm… display earlier—”
“Ngh, water under the bridge.”
Aziraphale gave him a disapproving look at the interruption before finally getting on with it, as it were. His eyes, and his entire face for that matter, softened as he regarded Crowley.
“I love you too, you know, I couldn’t say it back then, but I can now.”
“You what?” Crowley’s eyes widened behind dark lenses and he sat up from his comfortable sprawl of limbs, taking on the most perfect posture Aziraphale has ever seen him sit with. “Angel, you don’t have to spare me from my feelings, can’t we just enjoy—”
“No, no, really,” Aziraphale pulled him closer, Crowley swallowed under the intense gaze, “I love you, Crowley.” A smile grew across Aziraphale’s pinkened cheeks, a giddy feeling rising up in his chest now that he could finally admit to it, no longer scared of the possible repercussions, and his eyes sparkled with it all.
Crowley was silent for a long moment, not yet ready to believe that this was really happening after the day (the whole week, actually) they’ve had. But he couldn’t sense a lie in anything the angel had said and Aziraphale looked so genuine during his confession. Crowley was a fool if he didn’t take the opportunity being handed to him on a silver platter.
He leaned in, their lips almost brushing, but he wanted to make sure he was welcome to bring them together this time. Flashbacks of mere hours before when he feared he’d let it all go to shit still haunted him, fresh memories as they were. That wasn’t a first kiss… at least not to him it wasn’t. That was merely an act of desperation. Something to bring Aziraphale back and something selfish for Crowley to hold on to if he never got the chance. This, though… This is what he would like to remember as their first kiss. Something as quiet, gentle, and romantic as an alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz after they’d saved themselves and, in turn, their perfect little world they’ve carved out together.
“Look, I know I buggered up our first one, if you can even call it that, but… can we try again?”
Aziraphale brought his hand up to Crowley’s face, caressing his sharp cheekbones, “I’d like that.”
Before Aziraphale could pull him those final few inches forward, Crowley reached up with a hand of his own and tossed his glasses onto the empty plate in front of him. This, after all, would be their first proper kiss, and he wanted it to be how he’d always imagined it on his lonely nights.
He gave a tiny nod, to which Aziraphale smiled at and gave a nod back, before pulling the demon in. Crowley sighed into the gentle kiss, sinking down into it the same way he would into a pleasantly warm bath, and he indulged in the way Aziraphale seemed to melt into it against him as well. They were like one, a true embodiment of the yin and yang in their first proper kiss.
The waiter from earlier had come back, this time carrying another bottle of champagne, one the couple hadn’t asked for, but they’d seen many proposals in their time waiting on tables here to see the signs for a successful one. They dropped it off, not wanting to disturb the couple, with a murmur of congratulations.
The couple paid them no mind, too focused on each other to notice much of anything else.
Heaven nor hell no longer held power over them. They were finally free. And they didn’t even need to run away to achieve their freedom. They could just stay right here, wrapped around each other for ages if they wanted to, and maybe they would, until they got bored and chose to explore what else they could do now that it had been made official.
Crowley tilted his head so he could press impossibly closer and Aziraphale hummed in approval, welcoming him in as if this was exactly where he belonged. A few tears even escaped from both of them, overwhelmed with love as they were, and dotted onto the pristine tablecloth like constellations of stars.
This is what heaven should have been, but this was too good for the likes of them at the same time. This was all for them. Only for them.
Aziraphale had always thought that the saying ‘heaven is a place on earth’ was silly, beings that he’d been to heaven and it wasn’t as great as humans chalked it up to be. But now, with Crowley by his side, he was finally starting to understand what they had meant by it.
Oh yes, he could see it now. Heaven truly was a place on earth, and his own personal heaven was with Crowley.
Somewhere outside, a nightingale sang once more.