Aziraphale doesn’t have any more to give. They’ve all slipped through his fingers like a sieve, lost to him as soon as there stopped being any further division between their respective sides. That barrier didn’t exist between them anymore and so neither did the crux of the reason why Aziraphale couldn’t accept Crowley. There was no one that he needed to concern himself with appeasing or trying to be obedient towards any longer.
So, what was left? Just them, wasn’t it?
It’s exactly what they both wanted.
Too bad that it doesn’t make this any less overwhelming. With Crowley this close and being this direct, Aziraphale feels like he can’t breathe. All of the air seems to be caught in his throat and his hands suddenly unsteady.
“Ah, right,” he says. His voice sounds shaky even despite his best efforts. He feels a little cornered and definitely anxious. He clears his throat in an attempt to compose himself a little better or at the very least to sound that way. “Well, yes. I mean, yes,” he continues, speaking quickly.
It’s a bit too fast.
“I am,” he repeats, confirming. I am ready.
He knows that much to be true; he might as well be able to say it clearly. At least that much should be done. There’s no reason to be nervous or unsure. Crowley is asking him because he, himself, is interested and Aziraphale had just expressed his mutual interest. They’re both interested, both willing, and all that needs to be done is for Aziraphale to say so and he has.
This is it. This is him saying so.
It’s ridiculous to feel as hesitant as he does. He reminds himself that much, but it does nothing to squash the dizzying feeling inside of his stomach and head. His hand tightens a little further around the stem of the wine glass, knuckles white, and he can’t seem to stop talking. “But do you think the timing is right? What with-You know, everything else? And being here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing as he flicks his gaze from Crowley’s eyes to the line of his jaw.
“I don’t mind waiting. Until later. A better time, that is.”
oh good, this is the 50th comment
Aziraphale doesn’t have any more to give. They’ve all slipped through his fingers like a sieve, lost to him as soon as there stopped being any further division between their respective sides. That barrier didn’t exist between them anymore and so neither did the crux of the reason why Aziraphale couldn’t accept Crowley. There was no one that he needed to concern himself with appeasing or trying to be obedient towards any longer.
So, what was left? Just them, wasn’t it?
It’s exactly what they both wanted.
Too bad that it doesn’t make this any less overwhelming. With Crowley this close and being this direct, Aziraphale feels like he can’t breathe. All of the air seems to be caught in his throat and his hands suddenly unsteady.
“Ah, right,” he says. His voice sounds shaky even despite his best efforts. He feels a little cornered and definitely anxious. He clears his throat in an attempt to compose himself a little better or at the very least to sound that way. “Well, yes. I mean, yes,” he continues, speaking quickly.
It’s a bit too fast.
“I am,” he repeats, confirming. I am ready.
He knows that much to be true; he might as well be able to say it clearly. At least that much should be done. There’s no reason to be nervous or unsure. Crowley is asking him because he, himself, is interested and Aziraphale had just expressed his mutual interest. They’re both interested, both willing, and all that needs to be done is for Aziraphale to say so and he has.
This is it. This is him saying so.
It’s ridiculous to feel as hesitant as he does. He reminds himself that much, but it does nothing to squash the dizzying feeling inside of his stomach and head. His hand tightens a little further around the stem of the wine glass, knuckles white, and he can’t seem to stop talking. “But do you think the timing is right? What with-You know, everything else? And being here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing as he flicks his gaze from Crowley’s eyes to the line of his jaw.
“I don’t mind waiting. Until later. A better time, that is.”