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Summary
Crowley's come to a few conclusions regarding the night Aziraphale handed him a tartan-wrapped thermos: it's time to make poor life choices and hyperfocus elsewhere a while to wash away these pesky feelings. How will he do that? Planning heists he doesn't have to, for starters. And dancing toward a certain blond-haired blue eyed young witchfinder, for second...
Crowley didn’t call off the church heist so much as he failed to get back in touch with his would-be crew in a reasonable amount of time. After that night in the Bentley, he’d needed time to himself.
There was a promise in Aziraphale’s words that spoke of a future together, but when could that ever exist? So long as there was Heaven and Hell, the angel would live in fear. Crowley wanted to be enough but, systems of oppression being what they were, that wasn’t really on him, was it?
Aziraphale had to set the speed. And he’d pulled on the handbrake.
Series
- Part 1 of Liar