( underneath the soft fabric of crowley's dark pyjamas beats his frantic heart, quick as fluttering hummingbird's wings and twice as brilliant. it feels like a precious, fragile thing. something that has already been shattered and scorched, left tender and raw behind the cage of his ribs.
but it sings for aziraphale, clear against the underside of his palm.
his fingers curl, tightly bunching up in crowley's shirt in a gesture reminiscent of holding that heart of his. there is something that aziraphale wants to say, but the words seem to die in his throat.
all the same, nothing seems appropriate anyway. )
I suppose it has.
( he says eventually, clumsily.
there may not be words profound enough to convey what aziraphale wants to say, wants to convey in this moment that holds so, so much weight. it is more than the two of them tucked into a little nest, more than promises for a future ahead of them.
his hands tremble.
aziraphale closes the distance.
he gives another another push at the line between them or perhaps this one is more of a punch, much like how he had once forced open a hole in a mighty wall of eden. he leans forward, pressing a soft and lingering kiss to crowley's forehead.
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but it sings for aziraphale, clear against the underside of his palm.
his fingers curl, tightly bunching up in crowley's shirt in a gesture reminiscent of holding that heart of his. there is something that aziraphale wants to say, but the words seem to die in his throat.
all the same, nothing seems appropriate anyway. )
I suppose it has.
( he says eventually, clumsily.
there may not be words profound enough to convey what aziraphale wants to say, wants to convey in this moment that holds so, so much weight. it is more than the two of them tucked into a little nest, more than promises for a future ahead of them.
his hands tremble.
aziraphale closes the distance.
he gives another another push at the line between them or perhaps this one is more of a punch, much like how he had once forced open a hole in a mighty wall of eden. he leans forward, pressing a soft and lingering kiss to crowley's forehead.
it is more than just a kiss. )