𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

They picked this hiding place well. No one is here to stop them this time. No demon about to stop the plane, no humans causing issues outside the window, no disaster about to occur. No, the only one stopping them right now is themselves. Or, well, maybe just Crowley stopping himself. Things take time. Things take six thousand years to progress. He can't move forward in the matter of minutes, that would----well, that would be too fast. Aziraphale had once told him he moved too fast.

But, no, Aziraphale isn't telling him he's moving too fast. He's just there, not flinching away, not moving away. It's only Crowley stopping this now.

"Six thousand years, angel," he says, quiet under the music. "You must already know."

This time, when he leans in, he presses his lips against the angel's.