Atothena
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Summary
“You’re staring.”
“Oh dear,” says Aziraphale, completely unapologetic. “How rude of me.”
Crowley begins to smile something slow, bright, and lovely, but he schools it with a bite to his lower lip. Aziraphale thinks of the way he looked two millennia ago, pressed up against the wall with Aziraphale's blessing healing his wounds, the only demon to experience divine ecstasy and live to tell the tale. How Aziraphale's hands itch to do it again, and again, and again. Crowley opens his mouth as if to say something, but then stops and spins around instead to go back to stirring the curry.
“Shut up,” he says to the stove, flustered.
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Bookmarked by Atothena
06 Dec 2023