That croaked out 'no' is not terribly reassuring, but at least it's something. More comforting is when he hops out of his seat like one of those prank snakes that pop out of a can of peanuts. All right then, he's off to pick his own song, likely something loud and screechy and safe. That's fine. He shouldn't have expected anything more than that.
But then Crowley murmurs those words and the butterflies in his stomach re-grow their wings and fly right up into his throat. What. Was that why Crowley was so silent? Afraid that Aziraphale thought that? Because he didn't, he never did, not even when Crowley swore that he was off to Alpha Centauri and he'd never think of Aziraphale again. Not even when Aziraphale hoped that he would, not because he wanted Crowley gone, no, never, but because if Crowley was up in the stars, maybe he'd be safe. Safe from the fighting, safe from whatever punishment Hell had in store for him.
Oh, but those words warm him, too, down to his very essense. He'd never leave Crowley, either.
He doesn't have time to say any of this, especially not in his addled state. He simply watches Crowley fumble through the songbook like a desparate man, until the emcee takes pity on him and simply asks for the song title, he'll punch it in, you can go next, sir, no need to wait.
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timeasmymeasure
Me too. :)
Date: 2019-09-06 09:32 pm (UTC)But then Crowley murmurs those words and the butterflies in his stomach re-grow their wings and fly right up into his throat. What. Was that why Crowley was so silent? Afraid that Aziraphale thought that? Because he didn't, he never did, not even when Crowley swore that he was off to Alpha Centauri and he'd never think of Aziraphale again. Not even when Aziraphale hoped that he would, not because he wanted Crowley gone, no, never, but because if Crowley was up in the stars, maybe he'd be safe. Safe from the fighting, safe from whatever punishment Hell had in store for him.
Oh, but those words warm him, too, down to his very essense. He'd never leave Crowley, either.
He doesn't have time to say any of this, especially not in his addled state. He simply watches Crowley fumble through the songbook like a desparate man, until the emcee takes pity on him and simply asks for the song title, he'll punch it in, you can go next, sir, no need to wait.