You'll Never Get To Heaven (if you're scared of getting high)

This heart that will see you through

Aziraphale did not sleep. Still, he felt himself dozing, wrapped in the feelings of love, of exhaustion, of his body healing itself from certain strains, of...

Confidence. That was it. Every uncertainty was gone. All those countless years of worrying is it worth the danger, am I a fool, how could a demon love truly anyway, how can I risk him on an ancient crush?

Glorious certainty was flooding through him. Crowley, sobbing out love on his shoulder, recovering himself to care for and cherish him. I will love you for more than eternity. The love crashing around Aziraphale, burning and protecting all at once. He lifted his hand, and the Hellfire was beautiful and was not, he was sure, ever going to hurt him, as long as he loved a demon.

He turned, seeking cold arms, and finding an empty bed. He blinked, but the door was already opening, and there was his demon, his husband, gloriously naked and bearing a tray.

"Missed me?"

"If you were looking for your clothes, I think you failed."

"Don't be nasty. I made you three kinds of tea, and you don't get them until you smile and kiss me. And a Mai Tai with a little froufrou pink umbrella, and a Blue Hawaii with a blue one, but you don't get them until you rehydrate. Water first. Really, angel, you stocked this place like a cross between a cocktail bar, wine storage and a bottle shop."

Aziraphale gratefully accepted iced water with a kiss, and then choose first flush Darjeeling. "Are you trying to prove how much you can dote on me?"

Crowley snarled a little. "Catch Dagon making cocktails the way you like them. Let alone Sandalphon."

"You are the best husband," Aziraphale said warmly, and Crowley put the tray on the bedside table and snuggled up against his side and stole sips, only from whichever cup or glass Aziraphale happened to be using.

"We can't put this off forever," Crowley said at last, swirling his finger in the Blue Hawaiian and licking it off. "We've still decided not to sign?"

"Absolutely," Aziraphale said with certainty.

Crowley's face crinkled with relief, and he kissed Aziraphale's fingertips. "So, we make our case. What do you think would happen if we summoned both the Board and the Council at once?"

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him, long and soft and gentle, trying to kiss away both their fear. This. This felt right. And wrong, too, he supposed, thinking of the hellfire in his finger. A little sizzle of wrongness adding extra sweetness to all the rightness.

Crowley seemed to have caught his thoughts and leaned his cheek possessively against his. "If you are burned because of me..."

"I won't be. Fool yourself as you will, beloved, but She has the ultimate choice, and even what He does is ultimately part of Her plan."

"Go on, lecture me," Crowley grumped, without moving his face away.

"You bear Her token. No, don't swear, how easy do you think this is on me? But we'll be all right. We just have to have a little talk with the Powers that Be." He thought a bit. "On neutral ground." He stroked Crowley's cheek. "I will fight for you, my dear. Never doubt that."

"Just so long as you never doubt I will fight for you."

Aziraphale turned his head and kissed him again. "You always rescue me, my dear."

*  *  *  *

"Fear not, Angel Aziraphale and Demon Crowley, we are here to hear your petition for marriage and judge your fates," the Metatron said, his voice amplified many times over.