Nostalgic

Nostalgia

The Demon and the Angel had been talking for hours. Aziraphale had done most of it, talking about his time in France during the French Revolution and how he was almost beheaded since he dressed like a dandy. He would never admit it out loud, but that was the first time he noticed the good inside Crowley and the memory warmed him with a funny feeling he recognized from his romance novels. Crowley, on the other hand, was still silent only interrupting his new quite streak with a grunt or short 'yes' or 'no'. It was nice, Aziraphale thought, just him, Crowley, and Nostalgia. He could be here forever, just staring at the Demon and talking about better times. Though, if he was to speak his greed, he wanted more. He wanted to consider Crowley's offer, to do more movies but knew that was not what either of them wanted. God hadn't given Aziraphale what he asked. He wished that this whole situation between him and Crowley would just blow over and they'd be able to go get crepes in Paris like they use to, but something nipped at the back of his mind that he would never be satisfied with it.  

"You know what, Crowley, I have a suspicion you're not entirely ticky-boo," Aziraphale stated hushedly to the sack-out demon in an armchair not too far from his. Despite his usual efforts to conceal what he would consider acts of weakness, Crowley was holding hostage to two throw blankets Aziraphale prized from the seventies and a gigantic amount throw pillows, captured from all around the cramped book store. Under his fort, Crowley cackled sarcastically.

"Not ticky-boo? It makes me sad you have no faith in me; I'm doing so wonderful listening to you go on about France I almost- almost could be passing out in this chair. Creature comforts I suppose." Crowley dramatically got out of his nest of linen and cotton, sitting on the floor in front of Aziraphale's seat at his desk, and folded his hands into his glasses to take them off. His bright yellow eyes glowed in the quaint darkness around them and reminded Aziraphale, once again, that the magnificent creature on his floor was his own savior of mankind, making him feel an attachment to Crowley, promoting himself to join him on the ground as well. 

"Then you can spend the night here. I promise I won't bless you while you sleep, but," Aziraphale struggled to get the words out, "But, you must tell me what's wrong? I've been talking all night only seems fit for you to get a turn." He turned around to grab his hot Cocoa off his desk and meet a closer, more sprawled out Crowley than before.

"As I said, my bones are twisted up. That's all. Nothing a moment passed out drunk on your floor won't handle." Crowley stared at Aziraphale. Not being altered by the glasses, his eyes looked puffy and red-ish. Seeing him in such a state triggered the Angel in Aziraphale to comfort him, putting his cup down and grabbing his favorite blanket from the fort and draping it over the Demon in distress. Crowley let himself be wrapped up and Aziraphale placed a loving hand at the small of his back, allowing Crowley to scurry away with the throw in tow if he became overwhelmed. Despite what Aziraphale thought he'd do, Crowley just sat up straight and rested his tired eyes on the Angel's Shoulder. "Thanks, Angel," Crowley whispered to his companion beside him, stretching a hand across Aziraphale's other arm to pull him even closer. 

"I think," Crowley stated, "I think I can't stand to be without you and yet I irk to tell ya that for some reason." He grunted amused by that thought and meet the Angle's gaze between them. Out of all the times, Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, across tables, or rooms, or airstrips and thought about all the brilliantness in his features, Crowley's red hair, and sculpted face, this time was not any of those. He looked onto the Demon not with Infatuation for his beauty or lust for his looks, but a true and wanting love for his warm heart. 

"Oh, you slippery fiend," Aziraphale laughed, realizing his prayers had been answered, "Your scales aren't going to push me away. If so, I'd have to smite you."

Crowley chuckled and smiled coy daggers at him, "You're going to smite me? Yeah? How you gonna do that without a flaming sword?"

Aziraphale inched his face towards Crowley's, staring down the newly alight hellfire in his companion's gaze, "I think like this.", and kissed him softly.

 Aziraphale knew now what he wanted to do: he wanted to be in love with Crowley and never be alone for the rest of his days. He wanted to kiss Crowley at Lido, Greece, and France, and on those many fairy rides on the English channel. Aziraphale wanted to feed ducks with him at the park for eternity if he knew that Crowley, loved him too. God put up a sign that that was going to happen when Crowley shoved the Angel towards him and kissed him back.