His laugh is fond and almost purring; as he steps into her arms his heart swells, nearly aching with satisfaction and joy. It will always feel like a miracle to him, that they can be this close with nothing between them but love—that, like the rest of humanity, they can claim their own little corner of the world and make their way together.
“I’m afraid it’s rather small,” he says, a touch apologetically. “Possibly rather anticlimactic after all that, but I can’t say I have any regrets.”
Aziraphale shifts slightly in her embrace. Behind her back his left hand rests over his right.
“I don’t think I ever told you about the first miracle I ever managed successfully.” Leaning against one another as they are, Aziraphale can feel the faint thump of Crowley’s heart against his own. “I was terrible at it, at first. Right at the beginning. Couldn’t keep anything solid for more than a few minutes. At least not until I put a little fragment of myself into what I was making, just to keep it anchored to reality. Didn’t have to do that again, mind, but something about that helped me get the hang of it.”
Carefully he draws the silver ring off his finger. It’s been there very nearly since the beginning of time—he could have released the energy that made it, let the material vanish back into the firmament and reabsorb the tiny spark of his soul he’d put into it, but he’s never wanted to. It’s his first success, a little reminder that he’s capable of greater things than he thinks. And it’s the only thing that’s been his right from the start, the only constant in his world.
Even in the low light, the small silver wings gleam as he holds it up.
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timeasmymeasure
Take your time! :D also welcome to this headcanon.
Date: 2020-01-02 11:09 pm (UTC)“I’m afraid it’s rather small,” he says, a touch apologetically. “Possibly rather anticlimactic after all that, but I can’t say I have any regrets.”
Aziraphale shifts slightly in her embrace. Behind her back his left hand rests over his right.
“I don’t think I ever told you about the first miracle I ever managed successfully.” Leaning against one another as they are, Aziraphale can feel the faint thump of Crowley’s heart against his own. “I was terrible at it, at first. Right at the beginning. Couldn’t keep anything solid for more than a few minutes. At least not until I put a little fragment of myself into what I was making, just to keep it anchored to reality. Didn’t have to do that again, mind, but something about that helped me get the hang of it.”
Carefully he draws the silver ring off his finger. It’s been there very nearly since the beginning of time—he could have released the energy that made it, let the material vanish back into the firmament and reabsorb the tiny spark of his soul he’d put into it, but he’s never wanted to. It’s his first success, a little reminder that he’s capable of greater things than he thinks. And it’s the only thing that’s been his right from the start, the only constant in his world.
Even in the low light, the small silver wings gleam as he holds it up.
“I’d like for you to wear it,” he says.