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Summary
Crowley softened, watching Aziraphale’s terrified eyes imagine the lonely existence he was dangerously close to. He began to feel the drafty air in Heaven that was just a little bit too cold, a headache forming from the blinding white that covered every inch of that space. The looming threat of being tossed into the fiery pits of Hell over the tiniest hint of disobedience, with nobody there to come to his rescue. The cold stares of his colleagues, each and every one of them glaring at him with disdain and disapproval over the blasphemous ways in which he’d chosen to spend his time on earth. It was cold, so cold.
“Please don’t leave me alone.”***
It's 1941 in London, England, and Aziraphale & Crowley have had a very eventful evening. The night is almost over when they're sat in the middle of a dimly-lit bookshop, wine glasses in hand. Things may start to go awry when they get a little too drunk, and start admitting things they probably shouldn't.