primoapologist



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    Aziraphale doesn’t say anything for a moment. This is usually the part where he withdraws his arm. Instead, his fingers flutter at Crowley’s waist, a split-second pressure that’s gone as fast as it is light. He doesn’t remove his hand. “Why did you sit up?”

    Crowley wasn’t expecting that question. He stutters unintelligibly for a moment, trying to figure out how to ask Was I not supposed to? without, you know, actually saying that.

    (Or: Crowley constantly overthinks, and Aziraphale finally puts his foot down.)

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    27 Jun 2020

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    Because they can’t see each other more than once every few decades, Aziraphale suggests that he and Crowley write to each other to pass the time apart. As quills for their letters, they exchange wing feathers: a gesture of great intimacy that Crowley is convinced only he perceives the depth of. But time will tell that it’s not just him who sees it that way.

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    03 Oct 2019

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    The Pig breaks down hours from home and there is only one hotel room available. Because that's how these things work.

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    05 Feb 2019