𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

Six thousand years... And he couldn't even dream of a night like this.

Maybe angels are just bad at dreaming. They're certainly bad at seeing things for what they really are, whatever that could mean. Good at denial. Good at stubbornness. Good at rejecting what's not in the plan. Aziraphale had been good at those things, and not many others, but he's happy to be mostly letting them go. Well, at least those relating to his former side.

He hums quietly into the kiss, just a simple expression of the happy calmness of his mind. Opens his eyes slightly when it his broken, feeling warm and cozy and fuzzy, and all those little words associated to when one is happy and content.

He pulls his hand away from Crowley's and touches his cheek in turn, admiring the demon's face for a moment. Just letting the thoughts and the now gently float through his mind. There is a lot to think about, many new things to process. But he'll take a little while longer of looking at his demon, thank you.