The kiss tasted of claret and impatience. They had waited millennia, sparring and spatting, staying out of each other's way. They never meant to resolve the tension in the back of a car, however beautifully restored it might have been.
In the middle of it, slick with sweat and breathless, Crowley broke off a kiss. "Wait."
"Wait?" Aziraphale said incredulously. "Why?"
"I need to know if you love me."
"Of course I do, dear boy."
"No, no, no." Crowley shook his head to emphasize his point. "I mean, as more than part of G- part of you-know-who's creation."
This gave the angel pause. "Why?"
"Because -- damn it, because I'm not supposed to, to care about you, right? Except --"
"Oh, dear." Aziraphale blushed.
"Oh dear yourself. I could get in real trouble, falling in love with an angel."
"it seems quite as though you've already fallen," said Aziraphale, with a smug smile indicating that he knew he'd made a pun.
Crowley glared at him. "Yes, well. I'm not supposed to love anyone."
"Do you think your people could --"
Aziraphale chuckled. "I haven't heard from them in a year. I don't know if they care that I'm still here."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"If you don't know by now --"
"If I did, angel," testily, "do you really think I'd have asked?"
Aziraphale looked at him silently for a few moments. "I'm terribly fond of you."
"That's not what I asked," sullenly.
"I know you," Aziraphale continued, kissing his cheek lightly. "All the evil things you've done. I don't know if I can love you, not completely, unless you're repentant."
Crowley sat up and put his sunglasses on. "I can't repent, damn you. It's not in my nature."
"Ah." Aziraphale waved a hand, and the signs of debauchery disappeared, leaving only the mild, normal, forgettable aspect he generally affected. "Well, then."
"I'll drop you in Soho, then," Crowley said, sighing, and started the engine with a glance.
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