She reaches for his hand, brushes her fingertips over a patch of skin that hasn’t been bare in millennia, and his breath catches at the question she asks.
All of a sudden the moment has become an exchange, private and quiet as any moment human beings share. This can’t simply be a gift—this is a declaration, and it has to be mutual. Otherwise it would be, as she rightly points out, incomplete.
(Incomplete, as he’d tried to resist admitting in the depths of lonely silent moments, like himself without Crowley around. The world has always been a beautiful place, with incredible delights to offer, but all of them are so much richer shared with this one soul. Once he’d thought that meant that his own soul was in some way lacking, that his loneliness was in some way his own fault; now he knows better. The greatest of these is love.)
I know that feeling. I owe you some, I think!
All of a sudden the moment has become an exchange, private and quiet as any moment human beings share. This can’t simply be a gift—this is a declaration, and it has to be mutual. Otherwise it would be, as she rightly points out, incomplete.
(Incomplete, as he’d tried to resist admitting in the depths of lonely silent moments, like himself without Crowley around. The world has always been a beautiful place, with incredible delights to offer, but all of them are so much richer shared with this one soul. Once he’d thought that meant that his own soul was in some way lacking, that his loneliness was in some way his own fault; now he knows better. The greatest of these is love.)
“I’d be honored,” he whispers.