duckshaveears: (~ what's this then)
Crowley ([personal profile] duckshaveears) wrote in [community profile] faemused 2020-03-26 04:39 pm (UTC)

I'm trying to make it not suck *too* much. I don't want them actually fighting.

Crowley fidgets. Impossible to miss that he's uncomfortable, that he's got a burr in his tail about something. He takes a breath, planning on disavowing it and trying to run this conversation back onto the usual tracks and away from dangerous territory--

But Aziraphale is looking at him, his eyes uncertain and guileless and not quite hurt (not yet, shit, shit, he really shouldn't have gotten into this), and the thing is that Crowley is a terrible liar unless he's planned ahead. Which he didn't. He fell into his trap all on his own, dug the ground and laid the spikes and then stepped into it anyway.

Crowley sighs heavily and runs a hand back through his hair, which makes it spike and stand on end a bit. "What I said," he says, glancing quickly at Aziraphale. His eyes are bright yellow, hesitant and guarded. "Wondered if you and he ever..."

The question trails off, and he waves a hand frustratedly in the air. "Don't make me say it, angel, I know it's none of my business, and even if the pair of you did there wouldn't have been anything wrong with it, just, I wondered and then I couldn't stop wondering and I keep wondering and if you're going to dump the bottle of wine over my head and tell me I'm a pillock, which I am, just, just go ahead and get it over with, yeah?"

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