Date: 2020-01-12 01:12 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (~ what's this then)
Crowley snorts a little. "Yeah. Festive." He sighs. His breath stirs the fine hairs on top of Aziraphale's head.

Finally he shifts a little, lifts his head so he can look down at Aziraphale. "Talk to me, angel. I can practically hear your mind whirring."

It's an entreaty more than a command. The days when Aziraphale kept his anxious fears to himself and tied his thoughts up in knots over them are supposed to be done. Crowley's fingers drift down Aziraphale's face, brushing his cheek. "We do this together, right? Like everything else. So talk to me."
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musebox for Ashfae's minions

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