[Aziraphale almost says something silly, like, there certainly isn't enough room in the Bentley to do anything properly, but what is a car compared to two supernatural entities with centuries of catching up to do? Surely, the Bentley would somehow find the space to accommodate them.
Well, if it hadn't burned to a crisp and exploded. He doesn't even think of that, every part of him absorbed in Crowley, trembling in his lap, the low vibrato of his voice saying all of these very sinful things about his precious car and doing incredible things to Aziraphale's imagination. Moving against him like this is already so much, almost too much, hasty and fast and just a little over-steeped in emotions.
Because Aziraphale's fantasies have all been very, say, soft— maybe one day he could have taken Crowley's hand, and they wouldn't have had to say anything, and perhaps they'd have even kissed, all very slow and gentle...
That was, of course, when Aziraphale had tried to convince himself that he could behave himself around Crowley at all. When he tried very much to tell himself that if he happened to enjoy Crowley's company, if he needed him in any way, it was purely professional, and he never really believed it but he tried anyway. Being so definitively proven wrong is excellent.
He blinks at him when Crowley pulls him back, face flushed and eyes wide. Personally, Aziraphale thinks he's being terribly loud right now, all little gasps and soft sounds—]
I would have thought you'd want me to tell the whole world how I feel about you, by now.
[But sure, he will make little gasping noises in a car, that's alright.]
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Well, if it hadn't burned to a crisp and exploded. He doesn't even think of that, every part of him absorbed in Crowley, trembling in his lap, the low vibrato of his voice saying all of these very sinful things about his precious car and doing incredible things to Aziraphale's imagination. Moving against him like this is already so much, almost too much, hasty and fast and just a little over-steeped in emotions.
Because Aziraphale's fantasies have all been very, say, soft— maybe one day he could have taken Crowley's hand, and they wouldn't have had to say anything, and perhaps they'd have even kissed, all very slow and gentle...
That was, of course, when Aziraphale had tried to convince himself that he could behave himself around Crowley at all. When he tried very much to tell himself that if he happened to enjoy Crowley's company, if he needed him in any way, it was purely professional, and he never really believed it but he tried anyway. Being so definitively proven wrong is excellent.
He blinks at him when Crowley pulls him back, face flushed and eyes wide. Personally, Aziraphale thinks he's being terribly loud right now, all little gasps and soft sounds—]
I would have thought you'd want me to tell the whole world how I feel about you, by now.
[But sure, he will make little gasping noises in a car, that's alright.]