Aziraphale allows himself a single moment to be overwhelmed by gratitude, to be silently and desperately glad that he’s not too late. That he’s done what he needed to do. It shivers down his arms, bending his back so he curves down to kiss the top of Crowley’s head.
The angel smells terrible. That’ll go away too, in time.
“I won’t shave you bald,” he says at last, his voice gaining a lightness that’s only partly forced. “But I think I can manage short without resorting to that. And Fernand can neaten you up if I make a mess of it.”
Unspoken between them is the understanding that Aziraphale won’t simply get rid of the hair before Crowley can do whatever he has in mind. Aziraphale may put it aside to avoid getting tiny itchy bits of cut hair everywhere in the tub, but only as far as a nearby table, not the Mediterranean.
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timeasmymeasure
Will this turn into a bonfire of hair and commendation? :D
Date: 2020-05-04 08:06 pm (UTC)The angel smells terrible. That’ll go away too, in time.
“I won’t shave you bald,” he says at last, his voice gaining a lightness that’s only partly forced. “But I think I can manage short without resorting to that. And Fernand can neaten you up if I make a mess of it.”
Unspoken between them is the understanding that Aziraphale won’t simply get rid of the hair before Crowley can do whatever he has in mind. Aziraphale may put it aside to avoid getting tiny itchy bits of cut hair everywhere in the tub, but only as far as a nearby table, not the Mediterranean.