The thing about hope, that insidious little creature curled up waiting with all the ills of the world, is it works a certain way.
The same way sleep does, funnily. The same way love does.
It's either there or it isn't. You can't make yourself have hope, you can't make yourself sleep, and you can't make yourself love someone. The harder you try, the less it's likely to happen. Once hope, or sleep, or love has you there's no shaking it. No fighting it. It's there if you want it or not.
Crowley, deep in the clutches of love, doesn't care about strawberries.
He brings up Ariadne's video anyway, letting it play for Aziraphale. Obviously the angel does care about strawberries, obviously he wants to see it. So, see it they both will.
"Maybe you can still try one," he says, and chances pressing their arms together a little more -- as much as he feels allowed to. He'd stop if Aziraphale seemed averse to the touch, after all.
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The same way sleep does, funnily. The same way love does.
It's either there or it isn't. You can't make yourself have hope, you can't make yourself sleep, and you can't make yourself love someone. The harder you try, the less it's likely to happen. Once hope, or sleep, or love has you there's no shaking it. No fighting it. It's there if you want it or not.
Crowley, deep in the clutches of love, doesn't care about strawberries.
He brings up Ariadne's video anyway, letting it play for Aziraphale. Obviously the angel does care about strawberries, obviously he wants to see it. So, see it they both will.
"Maybe you can still try one," he says, and chances pressing their arms together a little more -- as much as he feels allowed to. He'd stop if Aziraphale seemed averse to the touch, after all.