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Summary
"Could you tell me about it?"
"About what, angel?"
There was that expression on Aziraphale's face, one Crowley had seen a dozen times; a burning curiosity fighting with the delegations of God-given privacy. He placed one hand over Aziraphale's clenched fist, his unshielded eyes encouraging. Aziraphale sighed.
"Your Fall."
or
A promise made between late-night drinks.
Series
- Part 1 of Nix's GOtober 2023