[ Since Armageddon decidedly didn't happen, Aziraphale has been thinking more and more about his meet-ups with Crowley, what Crowley has done for him - Hamlet, the books he saved from the bomb, the stain on Aziraphale's coat - how it would make him feel warm and appreciated and ... loved. When Crowley's hand touches his arm, Aziraphale recalls the moment they stood in the rubble of the church and Crowley held out the bag of books he hadn't remembered to save but Crowley had, and he recalls it all too clearly. How their hands touched, how Crowley walked away like it was nothing while offering him a lift home, how he had only been able to stare at his back for far too long.
Truthfully, neither of them can know for certain. It could be he's only overthinking things suddenly, worrying, as he is wont to do, and so Crowley is only trying to comfort him, because there isn't much else he can do. Aziraphale won't know either way until he actually gets back to London. But he wants to believe that anyway.
It's not like Crowley has ever tried to deceive him.
He closes his eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. It's fine. Everything is fine. ]
no subject
Truthfully, neither of them can know for certain. It could be he's only overthinking things suddenly, worrying, as he is wont to do, and so Crowley is only trying to comfort him, because there isn't much else he can do. Aziraphale won't know either way until he actually gets back to London. But he wants to believe that anyway.
It's not like Crowley has ever tried to deceive him.
He closes his eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. It's fine. Everything is fine. ]
No. Of course not.