A/N: Finally done! This has been super fun to write, definitely one of my favorites. I tried to make the ending sweet but if it comes across as a mega cheese fest then let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Otherwise, thanks for reading and please consider leaving a review! Check me out on Tumblr (username athenasdragon) if you want to scream about these husbands with me.

III

"It's been a blast, angel. Let's do this again some time. Gotta run, you know how it is, people to see and things to do, or is it the other way—"

"Crowley?" Aziraphale looked up in surprise from behind the counter. "You don't mean you're leaving?"

"That's exactly what I mean. Your duty is fulfilled."

Aziraphale came to stand in front of his friend. Crowley's cheekbones stood out even more than usual beneath his sunken eyes. He still wasn't wearing his sunglasses; the angel could see his eyes jumping around the room without ever landing on him. The suit, at least, looked a little better, and Crowley's ravaged wings were hidden once more.

"I can't very well let you go off by yourself again, my dear," Aziraphale protested gently. He didn't mention that he had more personal reasons for wanting the demon to stay. Maybe if he could hold him back just a little longer, he'd reconsider the Arrangement.

"And I can't let you waste any more time on me."

"That isn't fair! You would do the same."

"Would I?" Crowley hissed, rounding on the angel. Aziraphale stumbled backwards a step. "Maybe you've forgotten, my dear, that I am a demon. I don't do the right thing. I do what suits me, what suits Hell, and what is the most damning for everyone involved." Despite the harsh words, his voice was strained and desperate. "Why can't you just underssstand that, Aziraphale! You say you see good in me but it's all just a reflection of you. You're deluding yourself."

The books looked on in silence while the two faced off. Despite his small retreat, Aziraphale couldn't help but notice that their noses were only a few inches apart. If he didn't know better, he might have thought that the shimmering at the edge of Crowley's eyes was unshed tears.

Slowly, cautiously, he raised a hand and let it rest against the side of the demon's face. Crowley shuddered but didn't wince away. "You're wrong," Aziraphale murmured. "I didn't help you because it's my job as an angel, or because I think that I can save you somehow. I helped you because you're Crowley. I am your friend." He stroked his thumb across Crowley's cheekbone and the demon exhaled and closed his eyes. "And I know that you would help me—as you have so many times—because you are mine."

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed his lips to Crowley's. Conscious of the pain he must still be experiencing, he wrapped his arms around the demon's waist to pull him closer. There was a strange swooping sensation low in his stomach at the contact and he angled his head with the intention of deepening the kiss.

Crowley made a strangled noise and pulled away. "But you said—"

"I know what you were doing, trying to push me away like that. It was really very sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet."

"I'm not sweet," the demon huffed.

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "I hope that's what you were doing, anyway. Otherwise this would all be very awkward."

Without breaking eye contact, Crowley snaked a hand up Aziraphale's back and threaded it into his hair. "You were playing along with me?"

"Yes," Aziraphale choked. He found that the delicious sensation of the demon's fingers against his scalp made speech difficult. "I don't want to—to stop the Arrangement. I don't want to lose you."

Crowley darted forward and kissed the angel again. Somehow, against all expectations, Aziraphale had the skills to make his knees go weak. He moaned softly and flickered his skilled tongue against the angel's lips in an attempt at retaliation.

Now Aziraphale broke the kiss, gasping. He scowled at the demon. "That's not fair."

"I don't play fair, angel." Crowley ducked down and pressed the points of his sharp teeth into the soft skin where Aziraphale's jaw met his neck. Just as quickly, he licked across the indentations they left and blew to raise goosebumps. Aziraphale shuddered and pulled back to see Crowley's smirk.

"Does this mean the Arrangement still stands?"

"Well," the demon drawled (rather breathlessly, though he would never admit it), "it might need to be amended slightly. I don't think this situation was ever discussed." The fingers of one hand still played with the hair at the nape of Aziraphale's neck.

The angel groaned. "Perhaps we should take this upstairs."

Crowley started, his hand freezing on Aziraphale's neck, before relaxing and laughing softly to himself. "Oh, you mean literally upstairs. I thought you meant, you know—" And if he didn't quite finish the sentence, it was really very understandable because his mouth was otherwise occupied.

He didn't mind.

It had started raining again. As far as the two in the bookshop were concerned, it should have been sunny and brilliant, perhaps with a rainbow—but that's the weather for you.

Aziraphale traced a finger lightly over the curve of Crowley's back. "And your wings? They're really feeling better?"

"Well, one of them doesn't feel anything at all." Crowley rolled over with a grunt so that he could speak face-to-face with the angel, who was propped up on a suspicious-looking pillow. "But it does hurt less. You took good care of me, Az. Don't worry."

Aziraphale leaned down to press a kiss on the flushed skin of the demon's shoulder. "I'm glad."

A look of something akin to guilt passed over Crowley's features. "Er, if anyone comes asking about this by any chance…"

"You tempted me into it. Or I was undertaking an experiment on the possibility of Raising demons, depending on who asks." Aziraphale smiled. "I know."

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist and tugged him closer. "Great." He smiled, showing a hint of pointed teeth. "Perhaps you can be tempted a little further…?"

"I don't know, my dear." The angel tucked himself into the hollow of Crowley's shoulder. "Unless you were going to tempt me into sleeping."

"Fair enough."

They lay curled together in the narrow bed. Rain splattered against the window. It was peaceful—the kind of afternoon that called for a nice cup of tea and a book before a fire. For now, though, even Aziraphale was content to forgo his library.

It was a dark and stormy night before long. Somewhere, an eleven year old boy was trying to clean the mud off of his dog's paws before coming inside for dinner. A young couple ate dinner in a small cottage and smiled. A witchfinder examined a rather soggy flower display and considered a purchase.

Here, in London, an angel and a demon slept, legs tangled in blankets and hands tightly entwined. They dreamed of the first storm and all the storms since. If this squall was destined to hit the City that night, it had been destined to do so since that first roll of thunder millennia ago. Maybe they had been destined since then too. It's hard to say.

It was, after all, ineffable.