These Are the Days of Our Lives * * *
These Are the Days of Our Lives
by Edmondia Dantes

Disclaimer: Demon and angel belong to each other. Ain't got no money from this little endeavor. *sigh* Alas. Anyhoo, this is the last bit. Seriously. Slashiness awaits.

* * *

The door.

His door.

He had never been afraid of a door before.

But now he didn't think he would be able to wrap his fingers around the knob, much less actually open the thing.

Aziraphale frowned uncertainly.

On the other side of the door was his personal demon. Who hadn't moved for the past day and a half.

Crowley certainly was persistant.

And it was only a door.

He swallowed.

Just another door to be opened.

Just. A. Door.

With Crowley sitting on the other side of it.

Aziraphale gnawed on his lip uncertainly.

He would have prayed, except he somehow doubted his Heavenly Father would look smilingly on what he was about to do. Well, love was from God, wasn't it? Crowley loved him - right? He couldn't just leave him there... right? He could check, he could see, and maybe, just maybe, this awful feeling would go away, and he could be at peace again, and still have his demon comfortably at his side... or in his bed.

Aziraphale blushed. But the idea... wasn't sinful, was it? Love was love, wasn't it?

Crowley was Crowley. The only person whose company he had enjoyed for the past six millenia. Who, surprisingly, had a conscience. Who was, in fact, the only person he could stay with for eternity. Who wasn't like any other demon or angel anywhere. Who was a very good kisser.

Without even thinking about it, he opened the door.

And blinked.

Hard.

Several times over.

Crowley glanced up at him almost nervously and ran a shy, sheepish hand through his hair. He looked awful, and the slight, hesitant smile on his face made Aziraphale's stomach twist. He suddenly wanted to bolt, but forced himself to stay still.

It was just Crowley.

Just his Crowley.

His brow furrowed in consternation. What on earth had happened to his stairway?

* * *

Angel stared at demon. An age-old conflict - and a nonexistant one. Just... staring. A curious examination of the other, the most tentative of acknowledgements. Just a shy, cautious look.

Crowley hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt.

But for the love of anyone...!

'Zira looked... tired. Distracted. Confused. Sleepy.

Gorgeous.

He tried to force a smile on his face, succeeding only partially. His stomach was busy doing flip-flops, and his head had abrubtly gone fuzzy.

It was most irritating, especially because Aziraphale was staring at him with those big blue eyes, and he should really be thinking of something to say, not wondering if the angel was going to kick him out, kiss him, or maybe yank a flaming sword out of nowhere and hack off his head.

Well, he supposed he could deal with that.

So he took in a deep, cleansing breath, about to babble his head off like a fool, when Aziraphale's soft, trembling voice interrupted him.

"What happened to my stairway?"

Erk.

* * *

Crowley looked guilty.

Guilty?

Demons could feel shame. He knew that. Yes. And Crowley - his strange, dear Crowley, was sheepishly looking at his feet and mumbling a soft apology.

Aziraphale had never felt more awkward in his life.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to throttle the demon on his doorstep, he wanted to...

He didn't know what he wanted to do.

Did he? Or was he too frightened to admit it even to himself?

Aziraphale gulped, then reached out, just enough to make his question known.

And abrubtly he was drowning.

* * *

A soft, gossamer caress, softer than a summer breeze, gentler than moonlight. A question, diamond-hard and edged in gold. "Do you love me?"

Crowley gulped and stared wide-eyed up at Aziraphale. His pretty, soft, delicate angel. So wonderful. So perfect.

Love? This? No - far too gentle a word.

Madness.

Yes.

That was it.

But... could he? No! He shouldn't dare to think of it! 'Zira never would... except...

If Aziraphale didn't, he would just kill himself. It was as simple as that.

So he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and opened his mind. This would hurt, but he could deal with that. Yes. Hurt was nothing now.

He could sense Aziraphale's surprise, crackling brightly along their link, before the sensation - blazing curiousity, cautious searching, and something... something wonderful!

How could it be?

But... it was! It really was! He really did - truly!

The feeling crashed into him like a tsunami, and he was quite suddenly completely overwhelmed. Aziraphale... all of him, everything, and Crowley nuzzled into that pure, exquisite splendor, felt the warm tingle as the other molded himself back against him. I know you! he exclaimed in utter delight, and felt Aziraphale's laughing response. And I know you! came the joyous reply.

It shouldn't have happened.

But then, some things cannot be stopped.

Crowley felt the world go wonky, knew Aziraphale had felt it too, and laughed aloud.

* * *

A moment or a lifetime later, a demon and an angel opened their eyes and saw each other. And each found the other to be beautiful. A moment's contemplation - what had they done? Ah yes... thrown themselves completely into each other, tangled their auras together until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Gotten themselves well and truly stuck with each other until the end of time. It was strange. It was frightening. It was more than intimate - a complete surrender of self to the other. It was absolutely breathtaking. And it left their selves still thoroughly enmeshed in each other.

Brilliant blue eyes glittered shyly behind the protective cover of a few silken golden bangs. "Hello," Aziraphale whispered.

A sly smirk curved perfect lips. "Hello," Crowley replied just as softly, gazing in muted amazement at his angel.

They stared at each other for a long moment, giddy little grins on their faces, feeling better than they ever had.

"Breakfast?" the angel invited at last, extending a perfectly-manicured hand out to the demon.

The demon's eyes sparkled wickedly. "Delighted," he purred, taking it.

The door shut quietly behind them.

And the dawn broke gloriously over the horizon. A truly wonderful day was about to begin. Birds awoke and began to sing. People woke up and realized they actually loved their spouses. Cats did not wake up and jump on their owners. Teenagers got up on time. It was a truly miraculous morning.

The serene beauty was shattered by the noise emanating from a little bookshop in Soho.

"Oi! Aziraphale, that tickles! Ahh! Stop it! Bad angel! Sit!"

A plummy chuckle. Then, a second voice fractured the golden elegance of the dawn even more.

"Oh dear, I didn't mean for that to happen. Oh well. Jam?"

A shocked gasp. "Angel!"

Or perhaps the noise enhanced the ephemeral beauty of the morning.

* * *

-The End-

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