Current mood:	bouncy
Current music:	The Beatles

Hello, this is my first time posting here. This piece is just part of a longer story that I'm writing with Tea_And_Snark. It can stand on it's own, though, which is why I feel that I can post it. Also, I want feedback. (Trans: I want loads and loads of praise.)

Disclaimer: All of these character are mine! Wait, I can't get away with that, can I...




Now was definitely the time to tell Aziraphale about his dreams and revelations.(1) He had been growing closer and closer to that other fellow, and Crowley couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He flirted briefly with the idea that he might already be too late, but Crowley was incapable of considering it very seriously.
Because, underneath his world-weariness and cynicism, Crowley was an optimist. He had one powerful belief, almost as strong as true faith. He believed that eventually, he would always wind up on top. Something seemed to be looking after him, although he didn’t know who or what it might be. The obvious answers weren’t likely in his case.
And this time, he felt certain that the odds against him weren’t higher than a vanload of hippies on a blotterful of Owlsley’s Old Original. Aziraphale had known him for over six millennia, and he would probably be delighted and flattered, as well as incredibly pleased with himself for finally provoking such a change in the demon. He would go on about ineffability and about how Crowley actually was a decent fellow, deep down. And Crowley would win.
In this way, Crowley reassured himself as he sped towards the bookshop.
“Aziraphale,” he called as he entered the shop, brandishing a bottle of 1914 Moet Chandon. “We have something to toast, and celebrate.”
“Yes, my dear?” Aziraphale replied, emerging from the shelves.
“It’s something that you’ll be pleased about,” said Crowley, grinning. “Something that you were right about.” He manifested two chairs, and they sat down. Crowley opened the bottle, and Aziraphale sniffed appreciatively.
“What was I right about this time? And why are you so pleased,” he enquired cheerfully.
“You were right when you said that I wasn’t completely bad, inside. You said something to that effect, when we were preparing to attack my boss. And I’m pleased about it, because I’ve realized something wonderful.” He poured into their glasses, removed his dark shades, and let Aziraphale see his face. "I love you."
Even before Aziraphale replied, Crowley saw the confusion, embarrassment, and rejection in the angel’s eyes. Crowley’s mind started to spin, and a chain of images flashed through his head in less than a fifth of a second. The demon recalled his Downward Saunter, and wondered if a more dramatic and painful sort of fall from Heaven would have felt like this. He suspected that it would have.

(1) It had taken less than a day to interpret the damn things, but he had still hesitated to approach Aziraphale.