"Can't imagine you in a tee-shirt," Crowley says, as if he could easily imagine the Bentley flying in the air and that wasn't at all disconcerting. He wonders what has happened to America, what has happened to California throughout this. All those beautiful beaches, probably boiled away through the first wave. He supposes they'll find out, as they're rebuilding.
"I usually don't," he says. "Probably for the best. Can't imagine what a demon would dream about." He remembers a handful of dreams in his entire lifetime, now that he thinks about it. Maybe he'll have more.
He likes this, the feel of Aziraphale's hand in his hair. It's a kind of intimacy they could never have had before. They only even really shook hands in the confidence of Aziraphale's bookshop, much less anything else. He relaxes his head into the crook of the angel's neck, allowing himself to just...enjoy it, for as long as they have it.
no subject
"I usually don't," he says. "Probably for the best. Can't imagine what a demon would dream about." He remembers a handful of dreams in his entire lifetime, now that he thinks about it. Maybe he'll have more.
He likes this, the feel of Aziraphale's hand in his hair. It's a kind of intimacy they could never have had before. They only even really shook hands in the confidence of Aziraphale's bookshop, much less anything else. He relaxes his head into the crook of the angel's neck, allowing himself to just...enjoy it, for as long as they have it.