[It's so familiar, this back and forth, the bickering they've been doing since Crowley first slithered up to Aziraphale on that wall, six thousand years ago. Now there's just an entire extra page on the menu to select from, whenever he wants to tease about something.
Despite any teasing, he goes so easily when he's pulled forwards, the sunglasses disappearing instantly so that there's nothing between them. Crowley tucks his head into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, wrapping his arms around the angel, fingers curling into the back of that well worn coat. It's softer under his hands than he expected it to be. Comes from being loved, he imagines.
And then the coat doesn't matter much at all, not when he's suddenly overwhelmed by the rush of love coming from Aziraphale. Even if it did burn, he's not sure he'd be able to tell him to stop. It isn't anything like Her love, and he's glad of that because it's infinitely better. Something freely given, something chosen, not a love that was built into them.
He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels himself sob, and fuck if that isn't mortifying, but he only presses closer as his shoulders shake. Anything he might want to say will have to wait until he can trust his voice again, but he doesn't think Aziraphale will complain about managing to shut him up for a few minutes.]
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[It's so familiar, this back and forth, the bickering they've been doing since Crowley first slithered up to Aziraphale on that wall, six thousand years ago. Now there's just an entire extra page on the menu to select from, whenever he wants to tease about something.
Despite any teasing, he goes so easily when he's pulled forwards, the sunglasses disappearing instantly so that there's nothing between them. Crowley tucks his head into the crook of Aziraphale's neck, wrapping his arms around the angel, fingers curling into the back of that well worn coat. It's softer under his hands than he expected it to be. Comes from being loved, he imagines.
And then the coat doesn't matter much at all, not when he's suddenly overwhelmed by the rush of love coming from Aziraphale. Even if it did burn, he's not sure he'd be able to tell him to stop. It isn't anything like Her love, and he's glad of that because it's infinitely better. Something freely given, something chosen, not a love that was built into them.
He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels himself sob, and fuck if that isn't mortifying, but he only presses closer as his shoulders shake. Anything he might want to say will have to wait until he can trust his voice again, but he doesn't think Aziraphale will complain about managing to shut him up for a few minutes.]