𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

His hand moves of its own accord and covers Aziraphale's. He'd taken Aziraphale's hand once before, when they were in the hotel, waiting for something they thought was coming for them. It had felt right, it had felt like they were connected. Of course, Crowley had promptly disconnected the moment the danger was out of the way and that was----well, that was how they were, wasn't it? Always just a bit apart.

Now, all they have in the whole world is each other.

"Let's not think about leaving yet," he says. "We just got here."