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Crowley isn't sure how this will go. He just yelled at Aziraphale for an offer Metatron made without giving him a chance to say what he said, and now, the demon is crossing the room of this bookshop that's on a corner in London. He grabs Aziraphale by his lapels and he presses their lips together.
He didn't know what to expect here, but it wasn't for Aziraphale grasping at his own jacket and kissing him back. This is the very last thing possible that the demon was expecting out of his demon.
"I told Metatron no," Aziraphale confesses when the demon and the angel finally pull apart from their kiss. "He took Muriel."
"Wha --- why did you tell him no?" Crowley asks, his thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion as the tall, lanky demon looks at the shorter angel.
"Because I knew you'd say no and you'd be here," Aziraphale replies, surprising Crowley. "Crowley, I don't want to be anywhere you are not. I want us to be us... for a thousand and more years. Just you and I."
"Oh, Angel..." Crowley uses his left hand to cup Aziraphale's face and he smiles. "That is all I want. You and I, us, for a thousand and more years."
The two kiss again, unable to resist the pull, and a bright light shines in the English bookshop, preventing humanity to see them locking lips and they back up to to the couch, their lips not disconnecting once.