[Frankly, it's terrifying to promise someone eternity. Aziraphale realizes on some level that he's probably already promised this thing - his loyalty, his love, forever - to God, but ah— had he, really? Hadn't that just been assumed? And here, with Crowley—this one is a choice. His choice.
So it's terrifying but it's just fine, and something hangs in the balance in those seconds Crowley looks at him, infinite in their own right, before he moves again. And Aziraphale, like he was put on this earth to stick close to every romantic movie trope in the book, needs only the feel of Crowley around him and those barely-whispered words to come with a shudder, hands squeezing desperately at his hips, his waist— just to hold onto him like this for a little longer.
He's still then, just breathing, until the fussy part of him cuts in with Hmm! Messy, and he tilts his head to nose against Crowley's cheek. Hello, love.]
Ah. [What, hmm, what do people say...] How about that?
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So it's terrifying but it's just fine, and something hangs in the balance in those seconds Crowley looks at him, infinite in their own right, before he moves again. And Aziraphale, like he was put on this earth to stick close to every romantic movie trope in the book, needs only the feel of Crowley around him and those barely-whispered words to come with a shudder, hands squeezing desperately at his hips, his waist— just to hold onto him like this for a little longer.
He's still then, just breathing, until the fussy part of him cuts in with Hmm! Messy, and he tilts his head to nose against Crowley's cheek. Hello, love.]
Ah. [What, hmm, what do people say...] How about that?
[Aziraphale.]