Crowley relaxes a little as Aziraphale's arms fold around her, the familiarity of it grounding. When he apologies, she outright snorts. As though anticlimax is a problem their evening is likely to have, either in this moment or later when they finally get to bed. As though it's possible for Aziraphale to somehow let her down, after everything he's given her.
It occurs to her that every gesture of the evening, all of them, are in fact the same thing: Aziraphale's love. Differently expressed, some more tangible than others, but the same at heart. Love might be a four-letter word but Crowley's more than willing to give it, and to accept it, even if accepting such abundant amounts of it is a steep learning curve for a demon. Even such a demon as Crowley.
So she's easier as they hold each other, listening. Surprised and interested.
Staggered all over again as he holds up a ring she recognizes as well as she recognizes his face, his voice, and she realizes what the story he's just told her means. What he's giving her to wear. What it contains.
Once again, Crowley goes absolutely still, her eyes unblinking as she stares.
After a few minutes of silence aside from their quiet breathing, she reaches up and touches--not the ring, but the finger that's worn it for as long as she's known him. "Your hand will look all wrong, without it. Incomplete." She takes a deep breath. "Maybe you'd let me make you one to wear in its place?"
Yay headcanon! There are a few other threads I think I owe you too. Inbox is a mess.
It occurs to her that every gesture of the evening, all of them, are in fact the same thing: Aziraphale's love. Differently expressed, some more tangible than others, but the same at heart. Love might be a four-letter word but Crowley's more than willing to give it, and to accept it, even if accepting such abundant amounts of it is a steep learning curve for a demon. Even such a demon as Crowley.
So she's easier as they hold each other, listening. Surprised and interested.
Staggered all over again as he holds up a ring she recognizes as well as she recognizes his face, his voice, and she realizes what the story he's just told her means. What he's giving her to wear. What it contains.
Once again, Crowley goes absolutely still, her eyes unblinking as she stares.
After a few minutes of silence aside from their quiet breathing, she reaches up and touches--not the ring, but the finger that's worn it for as long as she's known him. "Your hand will look all wrong, without it. Incomplete." She takes a deep breath. "Maybe you'd let me make you one to wear in its place?"