Centuries fall away as their lips touch, and for a moment Crowley could almost believe they're back in Aziraphale's castle by the lake, surrounded by a wall of mist thick enough to let them pretend they were hidden from the eyes of Heaven and Hell alike. It'd been a good illusion, that.
But this part...this was never an illusion. Not the tender way Aziraphale calls him my dear, not the sweetness of the kiss.
"Like it might forgive me in time," he says. "Though it definitely wants me to suffer first. Can't blame it, I've abused it pretty badly."
And the rest of himself too, to be honest. Crowley is uncomfortably aware that he's done himself no favors lately. There's a little bitterness mixed in with his sardonic amusement. It's a hell of a thing, when an angel can't trust his own judgement.
He sighs and takes another kiss, then sits up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, wincing at the sharp burst of pain in his temple as he moved. "Ugh. Riding in a carriage for days with this head should count as penance, even with your company. Did you finish all your errands?"
Not suffering so much, just details. He's been there a while.
But this part...this was never an illusion. Not the tender way Aziraphale calls him my dear, not the sweetness of the kiss.
"Like it might forgive me in time," he says. "Though it definitely wants me to suffer first. Can't blame it, I've abused it pretty badly."
And the rest of himself too, to be honest. Crowley is uncomfortably aware that he's done himself no favors lately. There's a little bitterness mixed in with his sardonic amusement. It's a hell of a thing, when an angel can't trust his own judgement.
He sighs and takes another kiss, then sits up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, wincing at the sharp burst of pain in his temple as he moved. "Ugh. Riding in a carriage for days with this head should count as penance, even with your company. Did you finish all your errands?"