[ Oh. That's what it feels like when the edge of a thread is pulled away instead of grasped. Unpleasant both ways.
Aziraphale filters in the answer. Feels the way the tail end of it hovers between unknown but not entirely surprising with a little rush of genuine fondness. The growing urge is to go back, to dig-- pry at Crowley's curled fingers and take what he held onto. Make good on the warning and break him open. Rip something else precious out of him. It would be easy.
He squeezes his own hand. Not so much because it bolsters his self restraint as it is to remind himself he's here. ]
That's enough. More than. [ It was clearly well and beyond the point of even feigned comfort. He won't leave the cracked door of an I think. Any more and the fallout pressure in his chest might actually make him ill. The hunger doesn't end. But it wouldn't; the hunger isn't his.
Now they can both get back to not looking at each other. Dare he say, he'd rather look literally anywhere else.
Which does make the current state of their living situation unfortunate. ]
I-- [ Two paths diverged in a yellow wood. One towards gratitude, one towards guilt. A secret third one he's already trying to grow over that leads to saying tell me everything you've ever hidden away from me whether it was for a good reason or not. Bit of a jumble. Heaven would have a field day. ] I'm terribly sorry.
[ On the bright side, maybe he's starting to get the hang of properly apologizing for things in this relationship. ]
no subject
Aziraphale filters in the answer. Feels the way the tail end of it hovers between unknown but not entirely surprising with a little rush of genuine fondness. The growing urge is to go back, to dig-- pry at Crowley's curled fingers and take what he held onto. Make good on the warning and break him open. Rip something else precious out of him. It would be easy.
He squeezes his own hand. Not so much because it bolsters his self restraint as it is to remind himself he's here. ]
That's enough. More than. [ It was clearly well and beyond the point of even feigned comfort. He won't leave the cracked door of an I think. Any more and the fallout pressure in his chest might actually make him ill. The hunger doesn't end. But it wouldn't; the hunger isn't his.
Now they can both get back to not looking at each other. Dare he say, he'd rather look literally anywhere else.
Which does make the current state of their living situation unfortunate. ]
I-- [ Two paths diverged in a yellow wood. One towards gratitude, one towards guilt. A secret third one he's already trying to grow over that leads to saying tell me everything you've ever hidden away from me whether it was for a good reason or not. Bit of a jumble. Heaven would have a field day. ] I'm terribly sorry.
[ On the bright side, maybe he's starting to get the hang of properly apologizing for things in this relationship. ]