Date: 2019-08-08 07:02 pm (UTC)
sauntered_downward: (Default)
Aziraphale doesn't say no. Which, by Crowley's standard, is a leap. There's not a no, not an of course not, and he's not pretending anything anymore. Maybe that's the permission Crowley has been looking for? Maybe that's all he needs, is just to know that Aziraphale would, even if there's no way they could.

After all, Alpha Centurai doesn't have wine or bookshops or parks for them to stroll around in. No cars, no televisions. Maybe one day they'll tire of the running and make the decision to leave for there, but they can't now. Not with all of their comforts still here. Not when they're in the only place they've ever belonged---not that Crowley has ever really belonged anywhere. If they can ever enjoy them with a moment to breathe.

But it is on the table for later.

"Doesn't sound so bad," Crowley says. A pause. A breath. "Romantic, even."
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