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Crowley had been stuck re-living the worst moment of his existence for what felt like months.
Aziraphale excited about going to Heaven and inviting him along. Crowley suggesting they run away together instead. The fight. The kiss. Him leaving. Getting into his car…
And finding himself in the bookshop again, nervous about the confession he had prepared. A confession he never has enough space for in the middle of the argument.
Over and over again.
At first, he was angry. The conversation ended disastrously every time. They talked past each other, and Crowley had no patience for whatever Aziraphale said. It was all nonsense and they both knew it, didn’t they? Aziraphale couldn’t be gullible enough to believe any of the promises.
It took him multiple repeats of the conversation to realize Aziraphale wasn’t excited. He was scared. More scared than Crowley had ever seen him. He was desperate, pleading for Crowley to understand.
And finally Crowley did. They’d been talking only in codes and tones of voices for so long, and yet Crowley had failed to see what was right in front of him.
“Stop,” Crowley said, instead of starting the argument again. Aziraphale fell silent. “You’ve made your decision. You’re going back.”
Aziraphale opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded.
“I’m not going with you,” Crowley said. “I’ve made my decision too.”
“I know,” Aziraphale whispered. “I never expected you to. But we’re being watched.”
“What do you need from me?”
Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale looked at him.
“Prepare for The Big One.”
Crowley nodded. He had a plan for it. He’d had years to make plans for it.
“It— it won’t be safe for us to communicate before this is all over,” Aziraphale said.
“I know,” Crowley shrugged. “You’re sure it will be over someday?”
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled. “Nothing lasts forever.”
“No, no, I don’t suppose it does,” Crowley said, keeping his sunglasses in his hand and looking into the angel's eyes, bare and vulnerable. “This too shall pass.”
“There’s not much time,” Aziraphale said.
No time for alcohol-filled brunch at the Ritz. No time for long goodbyes. No time for nightingales.
The time for all of those would be later. But there was time for one more thing.
The kiss was different than it had been before. Softer. Exactly the kiss Crowley had dreamed their first kiss to be. Crowley let his hands cup Aziraphale’s face and heard a little gasp when their lips met. The angel’s hands on his back were soothing and gentle. When Crowley pulled back, he grasped Aziraphale’s hand between both of his.
“Be careful up there,” he said.
“I will, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered. “You have things to do too.”
“Yeah.” Their eyes met in silent understanding. “We will be us again. After all this.”
“We will.”
Crowley left the bookshop after a last brush of hands and, leaning into the Bentley, stared at Aziraphale walking into the elevator with the Metatron.
He drove away and kept driving.