[ As it turned out, being in love with a demon was tricky business, as Aziraphale had feared it to be. For one, he knew Heaven would not approve, and he kept Crowley as his secret, close to his chest, careful never to mention him at all. And when asked about him directly, he may have protested just the slightest bit too much; leaving a conference with Heaven left his heart pounding and always sucking in breath like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it in.
Not to mention that his dearest had an excess of courage, always jumping right into the deep end. There he was sat with the only thing that could physically destroy him, with the only love that would endanger his very person. And he had already risked life and limb for Aziraphale, several times, most recently in a very church bouncing around like his feet were on coals; the more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. And he knows that Crowley wants to talk, wants to take him back to the bookstore and ask him what’s really on his mind, and he is much too scared to have this conversation right now. He’s even more terrified that he won’t be able to resist, with the two of them alone again in the place he loves most where they first confessed their love and Aziraphale had felt, in the moment, the happiest and most invincible he’d ever felt. No, he knows he will take it all back, undo all the distance he’s tried to maintain these last ten years, find himself where he wants to instead of where he should be. What he says is: ]
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
[ And that’s part of it, but only because he feels so confronted now, by what took six thousand years but now feels as if it’s teetered suddenly over the edge. The truth is, he may never come around for fear of being found out, but he’s also too much a coward, too selfish a person to give up on this friendship. It tears him apart, breaks his heart cleanly in half to say this, to see the look on Crowley’s face. God, why is he so expressive, even when Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes? No, he has to leave the Bentley, look away and stand tall, even as his legs shake and his head spins and his whole person rebels against itself.
He shuts the door, his face dispassionate, unmoving. He’s never felt like such a liar. ]
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Not to mention that his dearest had an excess of courage, always jumping right into the deep end. There he was sat with the only thing that could physically destroy him, with the only love that would endanger his very person. And he had already risked life and limb for Aziraphale, several times, most recently in a very church bouncing around like his feet were on coals; the more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. And he knows that Crowley wants to talk, wants to take him back to the bookstore and ask him what’s really on his mind, and he is much too scared to have this conversation right now. He’s even more terrified that he won’t be able to resist, with the two of them alone again in the place he loves most where they first confessed their love and Aziraphale had felt, in the moment, the happiest and most invincible he’d ever felt. No, he knows he will take it all back, undo all the distance he’s tried to maintain these last ten years, find himself where he wants to instead of where he should be. What he says is: ]
You go too fast for me, Crowley.
[ And that’s part of it, but only because he feels so confronted now, by what took six thousand years but now feels as if it’s teetered suddenly over the edge. The truth is, he may never come around for fear of being found out, but he’s also too much a coward, too selfish a person to give up on this friendship. It tears him apart, breaks his heart cleanly in half to say this, to see the look on Crowley’s face. God, why is he so expressive, even when Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes? No, he has to leave the Bentley, look away and stand tall, even as his legs shake and his head spins and his whole person rebels against itself.
He shuts the door, his face dispassionate, unmoving. He’s never felt like such a liar. ]