When Crowley runs his thumb across his knuckles, that's when Aziraphale finally looks at their hands. When he's finally forced to face what's happening, under the idle conversations, under the drinking, the bad music. There, in the dark, in the hidden booth, on the table. Their hands, and everything it means.
Crowley brings up Alpha Centauri, and there's a twinge somewhere in Aziraphale's mind. Images of the bandstand, the street in Soho. Of Crowley offering, scolding, begging him to go. Of Crowley leaving every time he pushed him away, but always coming back to him.
He meets Crowley's eyes, and there's something besides uncertainty there, in Aziraphale's. There's something, but even Aziraphale couldn't say what it was.
"Alpha Centauri." He repeats, quietly. He has to break the gaze at a point, glancing off somewhere, maybe his drink, maybe at someone passing by. He smiles, but it's faint. There's...heaviness. There's some guilt from moments past. "Quite a bit far."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-08-08 12:59 pm (UTC)Crowley brings up Alpha Centauri, and there's a twinge somewhere in Aziraphale's mind. Images of the bandstand, the street in Soho. Of Crowley offering, scolding, begging him to go. Of Crowley leaving every time he pushed him away, but always coming back to him.
He meets Crowley's eyes, and there's something besides uncertainty there, in Aziraphale's. There's something, but even Aziraphale couldn't say what it was.
"Alpha Centauri." He repeats, quietly. He has to break the gaze at a point, glancing off somewhere, maybe his drink, maybe at someone passing by. He smiles, but it's faint. There's...heaviness. There's some guilt from moments past. "Quite a bit far."