It Started Out With A Kiss (How Did It End Up Like This)

Hyphothetical

1941: Soho

Having had a successful magic show and having fooled one of hell's "brightest" demon, Aziraphale and Crowley were surfing the wave of triumph. Of course, that involved hors d'oeuvre and alcohol, quite an extraordinary amount of alcohol.

"Did you really say that to King Henry VIII?" Aziraphale asked with a slurred disposition. "I mean to his face?"

Crowley burped quietly. "Wha? You don't believe me? 'Course I did."

"But to call him a cheating fat lard, and to his face?"

"Whe –" Crowley hiccupped, "where was the lie? Hmm? He was cheating. He was fat. And he was in my direct sight of vision."

"Well yes, I suppose but he lashed out at everyone at court that day." Aziraphale recalled as refilled his glass. "Poor fellow, the one with the hat, his groom." He sighed. "Never saw another day after that."

"First of all, I had nothing to do with that chap's death. I did not tell him to fuck the queen. Second, the fat lard was already having a bad day."

Aziraphale shot a smile in Crowley's direction. "What is it now?"

"Do not think I did not know you would secretly arrange meetings between Queen Catherine of Aragon and her daughter Mary."

"Ngk." Crowley shook his head in displeasure.

"I did no such thing."

"Oh? I thought I heard a rumor of a certain man with your description helping the desolate queen."

Crowley drank the remaining liquid from his glass with one gulp. "You heard wrong." He stood on wobbly knees. "Right. Off I go then." The room spun for a millisecond and after a dark moment, he found himself staring at the ceiling.

"Hello there." Aziraphale's voice rang close to his ear. "You passed out for a minute or two."

Crowley turned his head to find Aziraphale lying next to him on the bookshop's floor. "That's my excuse, what's yours?"

The angel turned to Crowley with a sigh. "I was going to help you up but as soon as I began to look down upon you, I had the urge to throw up." Crowley scrunched his nose in disgust. "I wouldn't have thrown up on you, I would never hear the end of it."

They lay there in a comfortable silence, both staring up at the ceiling, too drunk to move, or rather, too comfortable. They were close enough to feel each other's body heat and for some odd reason close enough that their fingers somehow managed to intertwine with each other. Neither knew whose heartbeat was beating erratically within their palms, but they did not care or acknowledge it. Friends held hands after all, and as Aziraphale had said hours ago, that is what friends were for, were they not?

"I felt bad." Crowley was the first to speak. "Mother, daughter separated like that. Nasty punishment, even for hell's standards."

Aziraphale turned his head and witnessed a soft expression on Crowley's face. Yes, the presence of drunkenness was plastered on the demon's face but there was something else written on him. Aziraphale's eyes soften as well.

"Don't call me nice. I know that look."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to. I could smell it a mile away."

The smile on Aziraphale returned in fullness. Mainly so because the bookshop became inflame with the presence of love, pure love. He was so very much in love with the demon, and it was that particular night he had come to terms with it. He was thankful Crowley could not feel the love searing from him, it would be too embarrassing to deal with.

"You always did have a soft spot for children, Crowley. I can picture you having to care for one." The angel moved his head back towards the ceiling. "Ah, yes, babysitter Crowley, imagine that."

Crowley laughed at the ridiculous notion. "I tend to look at them from afar, it's best that way on 'count of the eyes and whatnot."

"Imagine having one of your own." Aziraphale chuckled lightly. "They would have to get used to your eyes, maybe even have the same shade as them."

"Don't even." Crowley entertained with a laugh. "I wouldn't wish my eyes on any poor child. They could have your eyes." Aziraphale turned his head to Crowley as quickly as the demon had said those words. "Or," he cleared his throat, "maybe another color. Green, hazel, brown, pink."

"Pink? My dear, there is no such thing for humans, and it sounds as if you want them to have every color of the rainbow."

"The universe also has such colors. Purple even." He raised his hand and pointed to the ceiling. "Stars up there are bright amber with gorgeous shades surrounding them. Oh!" He exclaimed excitedly, "The color of the galaxy, that is always a lovely shade."

"With your red hair then." Aziraphale chimed in gleefully.

"Nah, your hair will do."

The angel's laugh echoed through the bookshop and his hand tightened. "Are we having a hypothetical child?"

"I 'spose." Crowley smiled ear to ear. "Would only have one with you, if possible. I've known you longer than anyone so it would be logical."

"Oh, so not because you care for me but as a convenience. Too lazy to find someone on your own? Look, there's an angel, he'll do."

Crowley's laugher was loud, making Aziraphale join in. "Exactly." They both turned towards each other, cheeks flushed. "Can I try something but promise me we shall never bring it up and pretend it didn't happen?

"You have my word as an angel and as a friend." Aziraphale's voice was barely a whisper.

Crowley slowly leaned in towards his good angel friend and with the hand that was not occupied with the angel's own, he gently placed it on the back of said angel's neck and pulled him closer to him. Aziraphale's lips tasted of the delicious wine they had been enjoying all through the night. His lips were plumb and soft against Crowley's. In turn, Aziraphale sighed into the kiss. For him, it was gentle, and he could feel how careful Crowley was trying to be. There was no hunger behind it, only, dare he thought it and felt it, love. Aziraphale felt such love in the kiss however, he did not know if it was his mind playing ticks on him but his angelic being was screaming it. As they parted, they locked eyes.

"What would you name them?" Aziraphale asked softly. "What would you name our hypothetical child?" He asked again after seeing Crowley's baffled expression.

Crowley smiled and leaned in again to steal another kiss.

1941: Somewhere In Wales

"Storm is not letting up anytime soon I'm afraid." An elderly woman informed her husband.

"Came out of nowhere and listen to that thunder." The woman's husband had just come back from attending their farm. Thunder clapped loud enough to be mistaken for bombs.

"Goodness!" The woman exclaimed as a blot of lighting struck near their front porch. Not a minute later, the husband was as startled as his wife when they both heard a knock at their door. "Well go on then." The woman encouraged when her husband did not dare to move.

The husband moved carefully towards the door and slowly opened it. "My word! Wife, get a towel. There's a girl, and she is soaking wet.