[They can't both cry. It's just not done. Someone has to hold it together and hold the other, and so he does, stroking his hair, his back, lips resting against his ear. He doesn't believe he can really touch the pain prompting the release. Fear of how it would feel to be cut away from the Love that fuels his existence is a large part of what has driven his behavior for the entirety of it.
There's a reason the demons are held as stark examples of what happens to disobedient angels. It's not that Hell is dank and unpleasant.
He can't be Her. He can only be himself. Now that there's no obvious reason to withhold, no one standing behind them looking over their respective shoulders and waiting for them to bungle it all up, he doesn't. It's all Crowley's, for as long as he wants it and will stand it from him like this, incandescent and fierce, gentle and soft, and no contradiction for somehow managing both.
The most profound experiences have always been beyond words. He lets out a shaky sigh. There are thoughts moving beneath the surface, nothing he allows enough air to breathe yet. This is for them. Everything else can just wait its turn.]
no subject
There's a reason the demons are held as stark examples of what happens to disobedient angels. It's not that Hell is dank and unpleasant.
He can't be Her. He can only be himself. Now that there's no obvious reason to withhold, no one standing behind them looking over their respective shoulders and waiting for them to bungle it all up, he doesn't. It's all Crowley's, for as long as he wants it and will stand it from him like this, incandescent and fierce, gentle and soft, and no contradiction for somehow managing both.
The most profound experiences have always been beyond words. He lets out a shaky sigh. There are thoughts moving beneath the surface, nothing he allows enough air to breathe yet. This is for them. Everything else can just wait its turn.]