[ Settled in the soft warmth that is Aziraphale, Crowley curls his arms around his shoulders and holds him close. ]
Just. Happy. Didn't know you were the type to go in for photography.
[ It's more than that, of course. Always is with either of them.
Crowley, for one, had spent a much larger portion of his life than he'd ever care to admit buying into the idea that he's unworthy of love. After all, when the Almighty Herself rips you open, tears out your Grace and casts you out like garbage, it's not exactly great for one's self-esteem.
He at first never expected to feel love again, and then he never had expected to have it reciprocated, and then, even if it was, it would have to be treated as some furtive thing. The best Crowley could hope for was to be a shameful, dirty secret, kept to the peripherals and never daring to ask for more for what danger it might put them both in; especially Aziraphale. If there were pictures, they were to be tucked away in little lockboxes, brought out only in the dead silence of night; not in albums or frames or plastered on an Instagram account to rile up a bit of Envy in the mortals.
Of course he can't just go saying all that, not when he doesn't even know where to begin explaining why he's so moved. It's just the little things that always hit him the hardest, because they are a sign of much, much bigger things. ]
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Date: 2020-06-10 11:09 pm (UTC)Just. Happy. Didn't know you were the type to go in for photography.
[ It's more than that, of course. Always is with either of them.
Crowley, for one, had spent a much larger portion of his life than he'd
ever care to admit buying into the idea that he's unworthy of love. After all, when the Almighty Herself rips you open, tears out your Grace and casts you out like garbage, it's not exactly great for one's self-esteem.
He at first never expected to feel love again, and then he never had expected to have it reciprocated, and then, even if it was, it would have to be treated as some furtive thing. The best Crowley could hope for was to be a shameful, dirty secret, kept to the peripherals and never daring to ask for more for what danger it might put them both in; especially Aziraphale. If there were pictures, they were to be tucked away in little lockboxes, brought out only in the dead silence of night; not in albums or frames or plastered on an Instagram account to rile up a bit of Envy in the mortals.
Of course he can't just go saying all that, not when he doesn't even know where to begin explaining why he's so moved. It's just the little things that always hit him the hardest, because they are a sign of much, much bigger things. ]