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Aziraphale didn't trust the Metatron. Crowley didn't either, if the way he was holding himself was any indication. Even if he had stopped the archangel Michael from removing Aziraphale from the book of life, something was off.
Aziraphale glanced back to Crowley.
"Yeah, well, I brought you a coffee from the shop," the Metatron said. Aziraphale glanced back to Crowley again, who was shaking his head slightly. "It's an oat milk latte, with a hefty jigger of almond syrup."
"You brought me a coffee?" he asked.
"Are you going to take it?" The Metatron asked.
"Oh, well," Aziraphale started, not sure how to get out of the situation.
"He doesn't like coffee," Crowley said, which did happen to be true, "or oat milk for that matter. You're not particularly keen on almonds either are you angel?"
"No, actually. I'm surprised you remembered," Aziraphale said, turning away from the Metatron. He was surprised that Crowley hadn't made up some lie to get him out of it, and had instead used titbits of information that were all true.
"Ah, of course I did angel!" Crowley said, sounding how he did when someone tried to call him nice or kind, or even good. "If you don't want the coffee Metatron," he said, turning his attention to the frozen Metatron, "I'll gladly drink it."
"Oh, no, it's fine," The Metatron said, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Crowley jumped up from the armchair, much to the surprise of both Metatron and Aziraphale. He grinned in that almost manic way Aziraphale had come to love, and snatched the coffee from the Metatron.
Crowley pulled the lid of and sniffed at it.
"Oh you definitely did something to this!" He said. The Metatron's eyes widened. Aziraphale wished he could say he was surprised. It was to be expected from a being who had seemed so happy about mass nuclear destruction, he supposed.
"Now, I can't tell what you did," Crowley went on, swishing the coffee around for a moment, "but this doesn't smell like any oat milk latte with almond I've ever had." With that Crowley tipped it back. Aziraphale felt like the world had stopped around him. That drink had been drugged in someway, and there Crowley was downing it like it was nothing. Like the laudanum poison incident.
Aziraphale reminded himself that the poisoning incident had worked out well in the end, and if this was reminding him of that then surely this too would work out fine. He trusted Crowley, but he didn't know if he trusted Crowley with his own safety.
The Metatron reached over and snatched the cup back.
"You imbecile!" The Metatron shouted at Crowley.
"Oh, sorry, did I ruin some scheme or something?" he asked with an actual smile. That was strange.
"You know, whatever you did to that coffee may have ruined my plans actually," Crowley went on. He glanced back to Aziraphale and leant over to The Metatron. "I was going to take him to the Rits. Well, after this big speech I had planned. I haven't finished planning the speech yet. But I was going to take Angel to the Rits for breakfast. It's one of his favourite places you see."
The Metatron took a stop back. This was not the typical reaction to the drug The Metatron had added to the traitor's drink.
"Word to the wise, don't drug an angel when they have a demon around," Crowley hissed at him. His tongue stuck out as he actually hissed too.
"Oh Crowley will you ever stop drinking poisons?" Aziraphale asked as he grabbed the Demon's arm and pulled him back.
"You're beautiful," Crowley told him. Aziraphale flustered. He hadn't been expecting that.
"Could I ask, just quickly, what's going on?" Muriel asked, stepping forward.
"Well, it would appear that Crowley just saved me from drinking poisoned coffee from the Metatron," Aziraphale explained.
"Aren't Nina's coffee cups white?" Crowley asked, pointing to the mostly empty cup the Metatron was still holding. "You know what? We can think about that later. You know why Angel?"
"Um, I can't say I do," Aziraphale said, grabbing onto Crowley as he swayed forward towards him.
"Because I'm admiring art," he whispered, "and you're much nicer to look at than a coffee cup." Aziraphale was sure that he had no been gripping onto Crowley's arm he would have started flailing his hands around as he tried to respond.
"I'm rather afraid, Metatron, that you are no longer welcome in my bookshop," Aziraphale said. He was rather surprised when that sent the Metatron flying out the door. If that was all it took to deal with unwanted guests, he wished he had known that the night before when all those demons where storming his shop.
"Sober me up, please, because I think if I'm not very careful I'll say something stupid, like about how much I love you," Crowley said. He suddenly turned bright red. Aziraphale preformed the quick miracle, and was surprised when Crowley didn't immediately slink away from him.
"I uh," the demon managed before he gave up. He straightened himself up, smiled at Aziraphale, and grabbed his jacket. He wasn't exactly an expert on kissing, though there had been the odd one here and there through the centuries.
Crowley pulled Aziraphale in hard, he let his lips do the talking for him. Which really, in a way, they already did, even when he wasn't using them to kiss an angel.
Aziraphale had less experience than Crowley, and as such flailed around for a moment. One of his hands ended up in Crowley's hair, and the other ended up at the Demon's waist. Crowley pulled back a little while later.
"I," he tried starting, "um," he gave a fake cough, "I really do um."
"I love you Crowley," Aziraphale said, interrupting him, "I have for quite some time now."
"Angel, I adore you. You, there's something about you that makes me feel safe. And I know, yeah, I know that angels are meant to make people feel safe. But I'm a demon, I'm not meant to feel safe around you. There isn't much of anything I wouldn't do for you," Crowley said.
Muriel, who both of them had forgotten about, clapped behind them.