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"No, no one's killing anyone. They're all having miraculous escapes," Crowley said with an exaggerated sigh. "It wouldn't be any fun otherwise."
Aziraphale sighed, relieved at Crowley's assurance. He understood that Crowley was a demon, so of course he would dabble in 'giving people what they want' from time to time. But really, enabling murder at a time like this? They had more pressing matters on their hands, such as preventing the ultimate destruction of the world.
Thankfully, Crowley didn't let his ridiculous temptation get too out of hand. As far as Aziraphale could tell, no one outside the Manor had died. There were a few injured, but nothing a visit to a real hospital couldn't fix.
A smile spread across Aziraphale's face. Of course Crowley didn't let anyone actually die. He was better than that, and he'd proven that many times for Aziraphale.
"You know, Crowley," he began, causing the demon to raise a brow at him. "I've always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice..."
In a flash, a scowl took over Crowley's features as he shot forward, arms outstretched. He grabbed Aziraphale by the collar of the jacket he'd miracled clean mere moments ago, forcefully pushing the angel against the opposite wall, ready to tell him off for insinuating he was anything but a demonic demon.
He drastically miscalculated how hard to shove him.
Aziraphale's body came to a stop against the wall, but due to the amount of force Crowley had put into the initial push, his own body slammed full force into Aziraphale's, causing his head to swing further forward than intended.
His lips crashed against Aziraphale's in a messy, open-mouthed kiss just before he could say anything. The rant he'd been about to go on skidded to a halt in his mind when he registered what was happening.
The shock of 'I'm kissing Aziraphale!' quickly morphed into 'Oh no, I'm kissing Aziraphale.' and he hurriedly pulled his head away, eyes wide behind his glasses.
Both beings stood stunned for several seconds, still flush against one another, both processing what had just occurred. Aziraphale's eyes drifted back down to Crowley's lips, which were making a poor attempt to apologize for the accident.
"I, er, that, I didn't mean for, that wasn't - mmph!"
His explanation was abruptly cut off by Aziraphale threading his fingers in Crowley's hair and pulling him in for another, more deliberate kiss.
This time Crowley's whole brain short circuited, all coherent thought having completely flown out the window. Heat flooded his cheeks. Was this really happening? He carefully tilted his head to kiss back at a better angle, his eyes slowly slipping shut.
The realness of the situation was made very clear as Aziraphale groaned softly, dragging one of his hands down to circle Crowley's waist and pull him even closer.
Six thousand years of pent up want came surging through Crowley's veins all at once. He pressed forward, his arms circling the back of Aziraphale's neck, it was so much, he needed to feel more.
Aziraphale pulled back ever so slightly, causing a noise that most definitely was not a whine to escape Crowley's throat. The angel gazed up at him with lidded eyes, as if asking permission go any further.
"Angel, please," Crowley breathed, half convinced he was going to discorporate if Aziraphale didn't kiss him again. "Keep, keep going, please, more..."
He needn't have worried, Aziraphale's lips were back on his in an instant, muffling the pleasured moan he made in response.
One of his hands found their way into Aziraphale's soft blond hair, and he shakily tangled his fingers in it as Aziraphale began pressing chaste kisses along Crowley's face, slowly moving down to the demons neck.
Aziraphale settled at where Crowley's neck met his collarbone, and Crowley gasped sharply when Aziraphale sucked hard on that spot. His hips thrust forward against Aziraphale's leg involuntarily, turning his gasp into another loud, surprised moan.
Someone nearby cleared their throat awkwardly, startling the two entities. They hastily pushed away from each other, Crowley looking down the hall to see who had just dared to interrupt them.
The woman in question apologized for walking in on them, and Crowley recognized her as the nun he'd seen the night he delivered the Antichrist.
Oh, right! The Antichrist, the end of the world. Right.
They would have to make time to talk about their 'intimate moment', as the nun had put it, later. For now, they had a boy to find.