𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

The angel looks at him, close as they are, with a thoughtful look on his face, albeit a gentle one. It’s funny, really, how things feel a little bit less...well, not less pressing, as they do very much need to ensure their own survival, but, in the very least, time seems tp have slowed down, even if just for a few hours. Lying here, like this, with him, after what they just shared, makes everything else not feel as overwhelming. And the irony of that detail, considering what had always kept them from true honesty, kept him from facing what was there, is not lost on Aziraphale.

But he soon smiles. Bringing up a hand to hold onto Crowley’s, he reaches the other to the back of the demon’s neck, brushing his thumb on the small hairs on his nape.

“That would be too dangerous.” And he’d make more of a fuss about it, but the moment calls for softness. He’s happy to deliver. “Much rather have you safe. Here.” A beat, and a coy, quiet tone. “With me.”

Not that the angel believes he can guarantee safety. But he can try. And having Crowley rush into Heaven making demands seems to maybe go directly against that.