Chapter Text
My body’s made of crushed little stars and I'm not doing anything
Something had changed the moment Aziraphale had touched down (if you could call it that, since they were basically floating mid-"air" in the middle of the universe) next to another angel.
Aziraphale couldn't take his eyes off the other angel. He watched as the other's eyes lit up as he watched all the stars around them start their job for the next however many years–which Aziraphale was hoping would be longer than six thousand years now–and he couldn't help himself, he felt admiration and maybe a tiny itsy bitsy crush start to form.
And sure, all angels knew love and they had love for all. But Aziraphale had a feeling that the love he was feeling wasn’t quite the same, and, well.
How could he not get a crush on the being next to him? With a smile like that.
"Look at you, you're gorgeous!"
Aziraphale felt his wings perked up as he looked next to him a little too quickly, and then his expression and wings faltered at the same time when he realized that the curly haired one next to him wasn't talking to him. He meant the stars. "Ah."
But when he watched the other Angel’s face light up–literally and figuratively–he couldn’t find himself to be so heartbroken over it.
Not to mention how the angel's eyes sparkled and how the constellations were reflected in his eyes. Enough to make Aziraphale gasping for air that he was positive he didn't even need, but here he found himself, struggling to breathe, struggling to think.
Aziraphale shoved the memory away, shaking his head slightly.
Aziraphale took a shaky breath before closing the distance between himself and Crowley. "Come with me–to heaven!"
He knew it was impossible, probably. Crowley would never agree. But, it was the only way he could think of to protect Crowley in that moment. What else was he supposed to do? There wasn't anything he could do. The Metatron had been clear, the threat was clear.