Chapter Text
A long time, it felt.
They were holding hands. They had been holding hands for a while now, strolling through the park. It was a sunny afternoon, a rare event even in the midst of summer and Crowley had invited him out. There had been customers in his bookshop and there was a guest author coming to do a reading of one of their latest romance novels.
Of course he had said yes.
Crowley was talking about something, something concerning a recent discovery one of his colleagues had made. Aziraphale was listening intently. Not unlike a foreign language he had grown up around, he couldn't make out the meaning of the words, but didn't have to, to feel the warm blanket of familiarity they enveloped him in.
He let himself be lulled by them, by 'exoplanet' and 'ephemeris' and 'density'. Fine, he might have known that last one but everything else coming out of the other man's lips was nothing but a beautiful melody.
But while the secrets of the universe still remained a mystery to him, the language of Crowley was much less of one now. He knew how Crowley's voice shook with mirth after he had made a crude joke only a fellow astronomer would understand, could tell when he was voicing his displeasure over a series of words Aziraphale had no way of deciphering. And that was enough, he hoped.
Aziraphale knew, realistically, he would have to come clean at some point. But goodness, it had been months now, how could he even broach the subject? How could anyone say, "Look, darling, I adore you. Your passion and your desire for knowledge, the spark in your eyes whenever you so much as look up at the night sky. It's the most gorgeous part of you and that is saying a lot. But I, on the other hand, would not be able to tell the Moon and the Sun apart if not for the very obvious light cues."
Yes, not something you could ever tell the distinguished astronomer you had been dating for a few months now, was it? Crowley might think him an idiot. Or worse, a lying lunatic. Which was not something Aziraphale ever wanted to risk happening.
Besides, he was doing surprisingly well, if he could say so himself.
Crowley's eyes fell on him, lingered. As if he was able to read his thoughts and was eager to prove him wrong.
"What did you think about it, angel?" the other man asked, a certain edge to his voice that Aziraphale had grown to expect alongside questions like these. One that filled him both with dread, but also, strangely enough, something warm and sticky, right at the bottom of his stomach.
He could say he hadn't heard of the discovery before. That was usually the way he dealt with these sorts of questions. Deny and misdirect until Crowley was sufficiently distracted.
He could but he had also, he realised suddenly, already confirmed he knew about it. In his defence, Crowley had asked him the question before leaning forward and swallowing Aziraphale's ice lolly right down to the hilt. Which had not left him with any other choice but to nod his head frantically and try to think of anything else that was not those sinful lips wrapped around something warm and distinctly-shaped.
Crowley was looking at him, smiling at him. Perfectly gorgeous and patiently expectant. Aziraphale kissed him.
Just, tugged on their linked hands until the other man was crashing into his chest before reaching forward to curl a finger under his chin. Tipped his own head up, a questioning look in his eyes, a twitch of Crowley's smile that said he knew exactly what Aziraphale was doing but was still helpless to stop it, and they were kissing.
It wasn't the first time they had kissed. No, that had been so long ago now, at the end of one of their coffee dates. With Crowley wrapped around him, long fingers on his cheek, guiding him close. It had been soft and perfect and amazing. Every one of their kisses was.
But it was the first time he had kissed Crowley in order to stop that particular line of questioning.
Not the last though. No, not by a long shot.
Their dates were already in the double digits and Crowley had almost stopped asking him questions about astronomy. Oh, he still asked questions. Just, more about his interests. His bookshop, his clients, the book he was currently reading.
Aziraphale was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, uncertain how he had managed to avoid a conversation he had been dreading from the first moment he had spoken to the other man.
Not today though. No, today he had finally invited Crowley to his bookshop. And had maybe, possibly, shyly, explained that his flat was just upstairs. Just in case. If Crowley was wondering where he lived.
They were on the sofa, together, passing a bottle of wine back and forth. Their wine glasses stood brave and well-used on top of the table, having been forgotten sometime around the 4th bottle.
Crowley was curled around him. That had happened the moment Aziraphale had first sat down. The other man was perched happily on top of him, knees bent over Aziraphale's lap, head tucked against his chest. His eyes like stars as he blinked up at Aziraphale with a lazy smile.
Oh, but he really was breath-taking.
Aziraphale's fingers curled around a sharp jaw, thumb tracing full lips that fell open the moment he gazed upon them.
"Beautiful," he whispered and watched as blood pulsed underneath soft skin.
"You are," Crowley hissed at him, with far less venom than he was capable of, he was sure. His hand curled around Aziraphale's. Didn't tug him away, just held him. Solid but gentle. "You are like a star, you know. Bright. Pretty. More to you than meets the naked eye."
Aziraphale felt himself flush too, felt that warmth in his chest tighten its hold, shiver in both delight and hunger for more. He leant closer, ever so slightly, drawn by the other man's invisible gravitational pull.
It seemed Crowley wasn't finished. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips pulling into a serene half-smile.
"Should call you my starlight instead. Though angel suits you too, doesn't it? Everything suits you."
The last words came out as a whisper, like Crowley had only ever meant to keep them to himself. Oh, but Aziraphale had heard them. Had felt them wash over him like sunlight, warming all the freezing corners of his soul. He felt himself shudder as he surrendered to the warmth.
The thing inside his chest, it was love, he knew that now. Had suspected for quite some time. It also shuddered, pulsed between them.
"Oh, darling," he couldn't help but coo. Couldn't quite help the tenderness in his voice either. "Oh, but if anything, you are my starlight. You have brought so much warmth into my life, so much happiness. I-"
Aziraphale hesitated. They had been drinking. They were drunk. While he had no doubt as to what the feeling inside him was, he didn't- Goodness, call him a blasted romantic but he didn't want this to be the first time he said these words to the creature in his arms.
He didn't have to, it seemed. Crowley blinked hazy eyes open, smiled up at him, his most brilliant smile yet. Nodded, a quick and easy thing, both an acknowledgement and a confession of his own.
For a moment, they just looked at each other. Two stars, gravitationally bound together, orbiting each other.
Crowley's smile turned sharp.
"Bedroom, angel. Now," he insisted, made to get up. Promptly fell into the other man's waiting embrace.
Aziraphale's arms tightened around him, more a reaction to the wave of arousal, deep in his core, than a conscious decision. He hesitated, still. If he hadn't wanted to confess while in this state, surely he couldn't... He shouldn't...
Crowley's hand found his own, brought it to the same lips he had been so close to kissing just moments ago.
"Just to sleep," that demon of a man whispered, his words and voice soothing, a stark contrast to the fire in his eyes. "I promise. Just to sleep."
Aziraphale nodded. What else was there to do? Even just the thought of that lovely man, in his bed, in his arms, in between his sheets, was enough to steel his legs. Long enough for him to drag himself upward at least, after which he mostly relied on muscle memory.
He was doing exceptionally well, Aziraphale thought, for someone with more wine than blood in their veins. Certainly better than how Crowley was doing, that was for sure. The other man had turned into a ragdoll in his arms, body soft and pliant as Aziraphale curled a hand around his waist, dragged until Crowley slotted perfectly against his side.
It was all going according to plan. Which might have been the reason why Crowley decided to lean his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, just as they were climbing the stairs.
And whisper, "Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, when we wake up."
It was only a miracle that saved them from tumbling down the stairs and into a heap of limbs and pain. But they did make it upstairs and into bed. And they did sleep, just sleep, curled around each other.
And tomorrow, when they woke up. Well.
It was their anniversary.
Except, it wasn't, because Aziraphale refused to acknowledge the first time he had ever gone to one of Crowley's lectures as the beginning of their relationship. That was a bit humiliating, he argued. Besides, Crowley hadn't even noticed him back then.
"Oh, I noticed you," Crowley had assured him. "Noticed you right when you walked in, gorgeous thing that you are. Besides, we can always have two anniversaries."
And then he had kissed him and Aziraphale hadn't really cared much about anything other than dragging him back upstairs.
It was their first anniversary. The next one would be in 4 months time.
They were having a picnic underneath the stars. Crowley had supplied the wine, Aziraphale had baked them a cake. They had swung by their favourite restaurant to grab something to eat as neither of them was a particularly good cook.
And that was how they found themselves, laying on a tartan blanket, wrapped in each other's arms. Pleasantly full of delicious food and gently buzzing, more from the weight of the love between them than the wine that still remained unopened. Even Crowley had barely complained about the colour of the blanket Aziraphale had dragged out of the picnic basket.
"This, there-" Crowley raised a finger and Aziraphale tried to follow it, he really did. "That's Ursa Minora. Or the Little Dipper."
Aziraphale's fingers tightened around the other man's shoulder where he knew an artistic rendition of what he was seeing in the night sky hid. He nodded, blinked at the shape Crowley's finger was drawing.
He couldn't see it, not really. In fact it looked nothing like the beautiful stars he was so used to seeing on beloved skin.
He still hummed politely. Crowley shifted in his arms, turned to him, chin resting on Aziraphale's chest.
He was beautiful, he really was. Even when he smiled like this, like he knew a secret that Aziraphale had yet to figure out. Something sharp and teasing just under the soft glow of his eyes.
"D'you remember? That lecture way back, on Greek mythology and the stars?"
With the way Crowley felt in his arms, Aziraphale was lucky enough to remember his name. And while, nowadays, saying something like that wouldn't lead to him being dubbed deranged, he was still somewhat hesitant to reveal the true power Crowley held over him. He knew his lover. He knew he would use this power for evil.
Instead, he nodded. Leant over and placed a kiss on Crowley's forehead.
He had researched the myth, shortly after that lecture. What sort of potential partner would he be if he didn't know the story behind one of his lover's most prominent tattoos.
"It was the story of Callisto, wasn't it?" he asked, eyes turning skyward. He genuinely couldn't see it. "She had a child with Zeus and Hera turned her into a bear because of it. And when she was almost killed by her son, Zeus threw them both into the sky to save them."
Why Crowley had decided to etch that particular constellation into his skin was frankly beyond him. But it wasn't Aziraphale's body, was it? And he would never do anything as insulting as to question his partner's creative expression.
The other man hummed softly, but made no other attempt to continue the conversation. In fact, he was looking at him expectantly, as if he was waiting for something, something major. His smirk twitched.
Aziraphale decided to kiss it off his lips. He didn't quite trust the look of it.
It was already 3pm and Crowley had yet to come downstairs. While the man liked his lie-ins more than was strictly reasonable, he had never spent the whole day in bed and Aziraphale was starting to worry.
"Are you quite alright, dear heart?" he asked the bundle of blankets in their bedroom, one hand running over what he presumed was his partner's head. It felt too squishy to be that, however, so he traced it to the real culprit, on the other side and more towards the foot of the bed than he would have liked. There was a stray red curl sticking from under the duvet that he patted at gently.
Crowley made a sound. It was unclear whether it had started off as something unintelligible or the blanket had been the one to swallow the meaning behind it.
Aziraphale's fingers curled around the edge of the other man's shield. "May I remove this, darling?"
Another noise, this time sounding vaguely like assent. Aziraphale still waited.
A faint "Yes" drifted from underneath the blanket and he tugged it away. Only to reveal a very flushed, very dishevelled looking Crowley blinking up at him. Oh, but the poor darling looked miserable and Aziraphale felt his heart ache in sympathy.
"'m sick," Crowley mumbled pathetically, one hand coming to rub against his red nose. He was also shivering, ever so slightly, and Aziraphale hurried to cover him with the blanket again, careful to leave his head uncovered this time. He wasn't much of an expert but he was pretty sure being able to breathe was one of the first steps to recovery.
A gentle press to the forehead confirmed that Crowley was burning. Oh, the poor dear. Aziraphale brushed a few strands of hair, plastered to his feverish skin, trying not to panic. While they had already been living together for a few months now, this was the first time either of them had fallen ill. And the urge to dash out and buy half the stock of the nearby Boots was overwhelming.
"I can see that." He tried to keep his voice soft, just in case the illness came with a nasty helping of a headache. "I will go fetch a few things, my love. Would you mind waiting for me?"
The bundle murmured something that just by inflection alone, Aziraphale knew to be sarcastic, before Crowley was further burrowing in his little nest.
How the man could be so sickly and still insufferable really was beyond Aziraphale. But perhaps he should see it as a good thing, really. Surely, Crowley wasn't dying if he still had the energy to be a pain in his ass. No. He stopped that train of thought before it had even departed the station. Nobody was dying. This was just a cold, nothing more. Probably brought on by his partner's penchant for going out without wearing any outerwear, despite the biting chill.
Aziraphale still grabbed every single medicine he could find in their flat, alongside a hot water bottle, a few ice packs, a fresh bottle of water and, on his second trip, a bowl of the soup Crowley had prepared for him a few days ago.
"We having a car boot sale?" the bundle mumbled through a little slit between blanket and sheet, through which Aziraphale could see a single blood-shot eye peeking at him.
"Hush, now. You should save your strength," he chided instead, arranging everything on the nightstand. And when that wasn't enough - the nearby desk. Okay, fine, he might have gone a little overboard. "You just stay exactly where you are and I will go research what you need to take in case of a fever."
The blanket slid down to reveal two blood-shot beloved eyes.
"On the internet, yeah?" Crowley asked, perhaps a tad too hysterical for his current condition. Or, well, Aziraphale took in everything he had hauled to their bedroom. Just the same amount as him, really. "Aziraphale, angel, please tell me you won't try to find a cure for this in a book."
His voice was rough around the edges, slightly desperate, and Aziraphale was already reaching forward to push him back into bed and under the covers. Refused to answer. Which was very much an answer in itself.
"No, no, no." His partner tried to fight being swaddled like an infant but Aziraphale was determined and Crowley was sick. "'m gonna die by the time you find something. Just- Grab me a paracetamol, yeah? Please."
Eager to finally be useful, Aziraphale was pressing the pill and a glass of water into Crowley's waiting hand in no time.
Crowley stared at the pill. Aziraphale stared at him.
"Darling, would you perhaps want me to..." He didn't dare finish that thought. His partner had a very low tolerance for being fussed over and Aziraphale had a feeling that had not changed one bit. Despite the fact the other man was barely holding onto his glass and Aziraphale's fingers were curling around thin air, desperate to help.
"No," Crowley bit out. Must have realised he was being harsher than strictly necessary because he hurried to add, voice soft despite the edge the sickness was adding to it, "Thank you, angel. I'll be okay."
Aziraphale still hovered close to the bed, ready to snap to attention the moment Crowley was done. Patiently, he waited for the pill to disappear behind lovely lips, followed by the rim of the glass. A few stray drops of water spilled over the edge of Crowley's lips, that he chased with his gaze but didn't dare chase with his fingers. Later, he promised himself. When his partner was not feeling so much on edge, he was going to fuss over him.
And Crowley would let him, because of course he would.
Then his lovely creature was passing him the glass back and settling back into bed, right side up now, and Aziraphale knew this was his chance. His fingers were running over feverish skin, pressing against the other man's forehead and cheeks and neck. Crowley leant into the touch, not much more than a grumble at the insistent caress. And when Aziraphale tucked him in again, he didn't even complain.
That should have been it. Crowley had taken his meds and was getting ready to have some well-deserved rest. Aziraphale should have kissed his cheek, swiped the hair off his sweaty forehead and left him be.
Except.
Well, except it was Thursday.
"Darling?" he asked softly, hands twisting in front of his chest with the desire to reach forward again. The bundle of blankets made a humming sound, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him further.
And Crowley looked so peaceful like this, face tucked into his duvet, features lax. He was moving, ever so slightly, shifting inside his cocoon and Aziraphale... Oh, he would hate to bother him. But he had learnt long ago that nothing came between Crowley and his love for the stars. Absolutely nothing.
Okay, well, maybe there was one thing. Their second anniversary, third if you counted it like a lunatic, had fallen on a Thursday. The other man had cancelled his class, without a fuss, without even mentioning it. Despite Aziraphale assuring him that he didn't mind celebrating it on the weekend, that the date wasn't as important as Crowley's lectures were. And Crowley had just shaken his head and kissed him. The day after Aziraphale had snuck away to purchase an engagement ring.
But that was neither here nor there. He had more pressing matters to take care of.
"Darling, I am going to call the planetarium and let them know you won't be able to make it today. Is that... Would you mind me doing that for you, my sweet?"
The bundle stilled. When it twitched next, it was to reveal two golden eyes staring at him and a smile that was sharper than it should have been, considering the other man's current condition.
"You don't have to," Crowley said. Casual, far too casual. He was already struggling into a sitting position, something bright and dangerous in the way he was looking at Aziraphale. Or would have been, had it been at the start of their relationship. Before Aziraphale knew the softness that hid behind that prickly exterior shell.
"Oh, no, I don't mind, really-"
Crowley shook his head. The smile twitched. "No, I mean you can do it, can't you? Teach the class for me?"
Aziraphale shivered, not unlike the way Crowley had been, up until now. Was he sick too, had he caught whatever the other man had? Oh no, he thought giddily, whatever shall he do?
But there was no reason to go for the nuclear option quite so soon, he reasoned with himself. He tucked it away in the corner of his mind, reserved for this ruse he had been maintaining for years now and instead went with the regular options. Avoid and deflect.
He waved a hand, smiling just like he did when he got a customer in his shop. 'Of course, I want to help you! Oh, but-'
Crowley was quicker. He was fully sitting up now, smile more teeth than lips.
"It's on the implosion of Supernovae. You know that, angel, we have talked about that countless times."
Had they? Of course some of those words sounded familiar, but then again those words were, specifically, 'on', 'the' and 'of'.
Aziraphale was slightly sweating. Goodness, but why was Crowley choosing today to poke holes into his lies. Could Aziraphale use his feverish state to get out of this conversation? Surely, if he rushed out of their bedroom, Crowley couldn't very well follow him. He would have no choice but to succumb to his sickness and fall asleep.
No. What a vile thing to even consider. No. Aziraphale had to confess, it was only right.
He stepped forward, like a man destined for the gallows. If the gallows in this case were a heavenly soft bed that also contained the love of his existence. He perched himself on the edge of it.
"Darling-"
"You do know what happens when supernovae implode, don't you, angel?"
"Darling, I fear I must confess-"
"We talked about it just last week, remember, starlight?"
Aziraphale took a deep breath. He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about how he was going to confess. More and more lately especially, as it felt abhorrent, considering marriage when he was still harbouring such a secret.
But in his mind, it was going to be over a nice romantic dinner, food and wine to soften the blow. He would start with an apology, before he hurried into the meat of his confession. And Crowley would, hopefully, forgive him after some grovelling and promises to do better.
Instead, he was surrounded by all the medicine they had in their flat, a slowly melting ice pack, a tepid water bottle and a feverish Crowley, who would not stop smiling at him.
A feverish Crowley who was tugging off his shirt to reveal soft, ink-stained skin below it. Almost on reflex, Aziraphale stared. He couldn't help it, no matter how many times he saw the constellations on his lover's skin. Beautiful and bright and breath-taking, more so than the ones in the night sky. That last bit he could never say out loud, though, lest he risked being thrown out of their home for real.
It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realise now was not the time for someone with a fever to be taking off any of their clothes. He reached forward, fingers curling around the soft material Crowley was already balling into his hands.
"Do you know what this is?" Crowley asked, twisting slightly to present the round of his bare shoulder. There, a dash of colour spilled over beloved skin, the dark purple of the cosmos, two stars shining distinctly in bright blue. Somewhere underneath them, a different one, smaller and reddish in colour.
Aziraphale had seen that particular patch of skin countless times, had kissed and ran his fingers over it just as much. He knew it, like he knew every other tattoo and freckle and curve and dip of his darling's body. He still stared at it, as if seeing it anew. Because he was.
"That's-" He hesitated, the pool of dread at the bottom of his stomach now an ocean. "That's not the Little Dipper, is it?"
It was a question as much as he was an astronomer. Aziraphale felt his throat wobble around it, still.
Goodness, but that had been the first thing he had said to Crowley, hadn't it? The very first time they had spoken to each other and Aziraphale had made an utter fool of himself.
Crowley laughed, a wheezing little thing that must have hurt his lungs, and Aziraphale hurried to lay a hand on his chest, aching to sooth him. But the laughter itself didn't sound malicious, didn't feel like the other man was making fun of him. In fact it was joyful, the sound a person would make, who had finally heard the punchline of a joke they had been waiting forever for.
"You knew?" Aziraphale still asked. Despite himself, he could feel his muscles relax into this new reality, in which Crowley had always known about his greatest shame. And apparently still loved him.
The other man curled a hand around the one still on his chest. Squeezed tight in reassurance that Aziraphale hadn't realised he needed desperately.
"'Course I did. Satan, starlight, you are a horrible liar, did you know that?" The words were light and teasing but they still made Aziraphale flinch. Crowley's other hand was already curling around his chin, thumb stroking soothing circles against his cheek. "I don't mind. The tattoo, it's Alpha Centauri, darling. Would have told you that a lot damn sooner if you weren't so insistent on this charade."
"All this time?" Aziraphale asked again. It almost felt like his brain was stuck in a loop, to remain like this until the world started making sense again.
With the way Crowley was smiling at him, he suspected that wouldn't be the case for a very long time.
"Tried to hint at it at first, with all the lectures on binary stars and Greek myths. Must have pointed at the Little Dipper a hundred times before I realised you weren't even paying attention."
Crowley laughed again, before he was tugging the other man's frozen in shock body closer, infinitely gentle. Laying a kiss on each eyelid, his cheeks, the upturn of his nose, before his lips found Aziraphale's. The kiss was slow and soft, so full of reverent desire that, all at once, Aziraphale realised he had nothing to worry about, after all.
Crowley, apparently, decided to make sure of it.
"I don't mind," he said again, eyes a little hazy with delirium that could have been caused by either the fever or the soft feeling pulsing between them. "I don't know half the authors you cite on a daily basis, angel. Don't have to, to want to listen to you."
They looked at each other, a shared smile, mirrored on two different but equally love-smitten faces.
"Why now?" Aziraphale couldn't help but insist. He knew he had no reason to complain, the only secret that he had ever kept from the other man had turned out to be a non-issue. This was perfect, the best he could have hoped for.
But he was also curious.
All at once, Crowley's face burst into flames, so much so that Aziraphale could almost feel the blood rushing under his skin, so close that they were. In one swift motion, his partner was drawing away and burrowing back into his cocoon of blankets. He still left his head uncovered, be it from the innate desire to keep breathing or because he was aware Aziraphale would never let him be otherwise. A fact Aziraphale did make use of shamelessly, letting his fingers run over a burning cheek before they were disappearing in the forest fire that was the other man's hair.
"I don't want to press, dear heart. Would you like me to let you rest, instead?"
He knew Crowley would tell him, eventually. There was no reason to continue this conversation, especially considering the state of the other man. Patiently, he waited for the affirmative answer he knew he would receive, mentally going over his catalogue of medical books. He might even try the internet, he reasoned with himself, although he did not trust it one bit. Just so he could say that he had, when Crowley inevitably questioned him.
"Ngk," Crowley replied eloquently, which did make Aziraphale smile. Some things never changed, indeed. "Look at you, caught you lying for close to three years and I am the one getting flustered? Utter bastard you are, starlight, has anyone ever told you?"
Aziraphale smiled, a soft, indulgent thing. "I believe they have, yes."
Well, one person had. But it was also the person who knew him best so he tended to believe them when they made such observations.
Crowley grumbled again. But he also shifted slightly, pressed into the other man's wandering hand so Aziraphale knew he wasn't that bothered about it.
"Look, I just, I wanted- If we are to- You know, get- If our relationship is to move to the next level, I just didn't want there to be any secrets between us." The last sentence was almost the length of one breath, so quickly had it been uttered. Aziraphale could only make out the individual words by force of habit. He grinned, letting all the happiness he felt bubbling in his chest, slip through his lips. Crowley rolled his eyes at him, his face one big scowl that could not even begin to disguise his own glee. "I know how much you like to fret."
"Of course, my darling," Aziraphale agreed easily, leaning forward to press another kiss to that beloved, silly creature. And when his lips connected with burning skin, he was safe in the knowledge it had nothing to do with Crowley's illness. "Thank you for always considering my feelings."
"Sod off," the other man grumbled. Yet his voice was dripping with the same softness it had tumbled into so long ago now and had never quite managed to shake off.
They remained wrapped around each other for some time, before Crowley's eyes were drifting shut, body relaxing in the other's hold. Aziraphale realised his work here was done.
"Please rest now, my lovely," he whispered against his partner's lips, leaning down to kiss them one last time. "I will contact the planetarium to let them know you will not be available today and will be back in a few hours with more paracetamol."
He wasn't sure if he would even receive a response, with the way Crowley's breathing was already evening out, his features lax and beautiful. And yet, even half-asleep, the other man still made a noise to acknowledge his words and something in Aziraphale's heart squeezed impossibly tight. That lovely, gorgeous creature.
He did call the planetarium, who were more than understanding. And then he found every one of his medical books and started reading.
But not before going to fetch the engagement ring he had hidden in one of his Jane Austin's books. He had a feeling he might need it a lot sooner than he had expected.